Chapter Twenty-Two - Ella Fordman: The Girl Behind The Mask

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            ~Chapter Twenty-Two – Ella Fordman: The Girl Behind The Mask~

 

 

            “Are you ready for our last masquerade ball of our lives?” Candice asked as we sidled up to the curb in Candice’s car, wrapped tightly in our dresses, our hair, makeup and jewelry completed.

            “Don’t say it like that,” Leslie replied, grabbing her clutch and mask from the backseat. “You’ll make me all nostalgic.”

            I laughed and slipped on my mask, which fit perfectly over half my face, and slipped out of the car, shutting it behind me. I could feel the bass of the music thrumming through the floor, enough to shake the very foundations of the house, and together, Candice, Leslie and I made my way into the crowded party.

            Immediately the temperature spiked, and I felt a sweat break out across my skin. Furniture had been pushed aside to form a makeshift dance floor, and already mask-clad figures were dancing wildly to the modern tracks streaming out of the massive subwoofers. It was no secret that Thea’s parents were loaded, and it showed in the expensive antique furniture and elegant tapestries that lined the walls. It was like stepping into a home décor magazine, and I couldn’t imagine living in such intense luxury. She had more than enough crystals to last her a lifetime.

            “Drinks?” Leslie suggested, and I nodded eagerly, eager to down one or two bottles of beer. After the last stressful couple of days, alcohol seemed like the perfect solution to my problems.

            We headed to the kitchen, which was filled with giggling friends, and several couples inappropriately making out against the cabinets. I was sure Thea’s parents would have a fit if they found out exactly what the teenagers were doing with their kitchen.

            A wide expanse of alcohol was laid out on the counter, and Candice easily picked up a Jell-O shot and downed it fearlessly, letting out a small hiccup after the beverage was swallowed.

            “Whoa,” Leslie appraised, grinning. “I thought you weren’t much of a drinker, Candi.”

            She shrugged. “I allow myself to drink one time a year: Thea’s fearless masquerade balls. It’s my last chance before study season. Better let my inner party girl out one last time before I have to study for finals.”

            “Amen to that,” Leslie replied, grabbing a bottle of beer and cracking the top open. She took a long swig and then cringed. “Ew, draught.”

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