The Circle

22 | Sparks

I walked beside Kaia and Selene, and Bronte is on the furthest left of the line we form. Every single one in our little group is irrevocably different, our appearances, style and clothing contrasting to each other as we walked side by side. Four pair of expensive heels touched the ground in synch and we walked towards the crowded mansion in front of us.

I felt intimidated when we first drove inside the estate, but now pure defiance coursed through my veins. The undiluted jealousy made me feel cold inside and as much as I didn't like how I was feeling and acting, I couldn't help it. I wanted to meet Chelsea and see what she was like, see the type of girl Kit really liked.

Oh God, I became the scorned girl.

I shook my head and focused on the party, chanting I don't care, I don't care, I don't care  over and over in my head. There wasn't a person in school that he hooked up with and he wasn't a proper player, but he was still a textbook fuckboy nonetheless. He might have looked at me with longing blue eyes as I came down wearing my dress, and played games while he stared at me in the car, but I was not going act patheticly.

I refused to be that girl.

People stared at us as we neared the entrance of the house. They silently observed as we climbed the steps. The boys walked just behind us while clad in their fancy blazers and one of them wore the infamous leather jacket he always threw on.

The crowd near the massive, carved out door kept staring at us like there was something awfully spectacular about our group I hann't realized that my friends -- normal, laid back people -- were regarded as the crème de la crème of society in Connecticut. 

I tried to ignore my nakedness and remembered to look confident. I raised my eyes and noticed that people were staring at my face curiously, their expressions slightly confused. Everyone in that place knew my friends but they hadn't the faintest clue of who me and my brother are. That made us the strangers in the party, the new people walking with the popular crowd.

The scent of imported french cigarettes and Chanel N.5 was intoxicating in the middle of the mass of carefully groomed bodies. The party had been going on for a good two hours and it seemed as if all the guests had arrived. 

"Let's drink!" Bronte suggested perkily and I laughed at her excitement. She might be the genius of the group but she definitely didn't fit into stereotypes.

We walked to the bar in formation and people whispered around us once again. It felt strange to be the center of attention. When I attended social events in London I never stayed with the true popular crowd. I simply stayed with people who were just barely there. Everyone watched the popular kids like they were celebrities, hoping for something scandalous to happen so that the girls' glossed lips would have the pleasure to share brand new gossip from ear to ear. They hoped that someday they would have the chance to climb the social ladder, and in the meantime they either wanted to kill or wanted to be the popular kids, and sometimes both.

I  thought that it was bull and normally stayed partially dissociated from everyone else. I didn't feel the appeal which my so-called friends felt from the shallow, uncultured people who dominated the elite schools around town. It just felt too phony to me, even if I was born and raised in that setting and lived inside it for the duration of my whole life. It was boring and fake and everything I hated. And the worst thing is that I conformed to it, changing myself. 

But I could understand why people looked at my group of friends with such unrestrained admiration. Everyone was abnormally beautiful and smart, and all six of them were polite and well-mannered. Well, they were like that most of the time, anyway. They give genuine smiles and simply preferred to have a good time instead of creating havoc. They were a breath of fresh air.