Helena's Chronicles

Chapitre 1

Chapter 1 - The Party

On the list of things that interest me, accompanying Anna to a party at a shady stranger's (no matter how rich) doesn't even take the second-to-last place. And yet, here I am, with a red cup in hand, surrounded by people whose sobriety matches only my patience. And after two hours of watching my best friend being fondled by her idiotic ex, after being shamelessly abandoned by Lena, who prefers a game of beer pong to my few observations, my patience is nearly nonexistent.

Sitting on a cold metal chair in the small backyard of the immense villa, I bring my cup to my lips, bitterly regretting having filled it with soda. But I drive, and I refuse to be vulnerable in the presence of strangers. Given that it's the only thing around me tonight, I don't really have a choice. However, I will admit that I'm jealous of them. They look happy, at least.

Another sip follows the first. I've distanced myself from the crowd of uncontrollable students, hoping to find some peace in this lovely corner of the garden illuminated by a few string lights. Fat chance! To my right, is a couple being very indiscreet as they devour each other (such a kiss can hardly be described otherwise), and three stoners with red and glassy eyes passing a joint which's lingering smell gives me a headache on my left. Consider the few fools taking shots that they won't be keeping down in an hour facing me, and I think we can affirm that I am very well surrounded.

I'd rather be anywhere but here.

But I don't personally know the owner of the place, and it seems impolite to venture into his villa without an invitation. It's a shame; from what little I've seen, it's splendid. It might even be the only aspect of this party that piques my interest. As an architecture student, this kind of residence is a gem to study. The type of structure I hope to be the creator of someday.

A moan reaches me from my right, and I take it as an invitation to leave the little green space. I don't want to accidentally traumatize myself for life. I get up, careful not to pay attention to the others, slipping away discreetly. Another hour or two, and I'll get the girls, whether they've done having fun or not. I have a thesis to finish, laundry to fold, and a cat to feed. Staying up until dawn to satisfy my best friends' liver-destructive needs will certainly not hinder my plans. Oh no!

Back in the vast front courtyard, the main venue for the festivities, I don't have the chance to take more than three steps before being intercepted by a classmate. Conrad Archer Doom III lives up to his name perfectly. This guy is a walking plague.

"Hey Buttercup! So, Blossom and Bubbles left you to your fate?"

I let out a sigh of exasperation, searching within me for the strength not to slam my fist into the face of this charming young man, lest I find myself facing assault charges. He's the kind of daddy's boy who thinks he owns the world, and he won't hesitate to make my life miserable if I accidentally break his ridiculously straight nose. It's sad when you think about it; nature sometimes makes serious mistakes—putting such a handsome face on such a jerk... What a waste! And then, the nickname he bestowed upon my little group of friends is far from winning him any favor with me, because, thanks to him, everyone on campus calls us the "Powerpuff Girls" Why? Because we sort of look like them, appearance and personnality. Anna is a tall redhead with chocolate eyes, Lena a small blonde with blue eyes, and my black hair and green eyes give me a menacing look that I have absolutely no intention of softening. The only difference between the cartoon characters and us, apart from the obvious, is that I have brown skin.

"Exactly. Any idea where I could find them?" I ask him.

"The answer for a kiss," he says with a voice soaked in alcohol.