V. Cheers

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Plastic cups were tossed to the dirt already, careless and noisy whenever the soles of my boots crushed them. Seems to me like everyone here was young and eager, bored or not legal.

Convincing Nonna to let me go didn't take any convincing at all. She reminded me to say no to drugs, avoid unprotected sex, and also to pull up my shirt because my cleavage is making itself a..."whore."

Not that my skin fit skeleton shirt could forgive the stares I got from unknown eyes. It was not the fault of my attire, but simply the reason that no one has seen me around before.

Myra walked beside me, digging her fingertips into my arm as she fervently dragged me to the ice and alcoholic beverages stand.

"Does anyone ever worry the police could show up at any moment?" I asked Myra as she just finished asking for two red solo cups of probably beer.

The dark-haired girl shrugged her shoulders, as if the thought was not a very big one.

"Nothing we're doing is legal, though here it seems to feel as if it is. Not that no one's worried, it's that everyone is busy happily prancing around with something exciting to blabber around about," she explained to me briefly. "I never understood the purpose for secluding alcohol from us. We always get our hands on it, courtesy of the pastor's daughter, too."

I slightly laughed. Myra reached behind her for the two cups, motioning me to grab the one she has asked for just for me. I simply took it, stared, and thought nothing too much of it. Maybe there wasn't poison in it.

The liquid never soothed my throat, rather burned it and continued to discomfort my empty stomach. It tasted like something fruity, yet lit with intoxication.

"Imagine when the pastor finds out his daughter sleeps with most of the town and even distributes the alcohol," I breathed out, almost in awe that all of this seems to be completely oblivious to many of the adults. One of them not being my grandmother.

Myra sipped her drink and chuckled against the rim. "Oh god, the whole town would be on night watch. We have a curfew, but really, when does anyone follow their curfew?"

"I don't know. But it surely isn't a priority in this place," I murmured, eyes scanning the scene before me.

A couple of cars were parked, group of people here and there. Even ones with books held to their faces appeared, munching on something legal while others smoked something twice as illegal.

"I guess you could say that. None of us are really bad kids. We just do what feels fun," she told me, eyes searching for someone in the crowd.

My eyebrows furrowed. "Who are you looking for?"

"Bryan. His birthday party is tomorrow and I want to make sure he's aware I'm coming so he better not invite Holland or I'll break his arm." Myra sighed, the focus of her attention simply on this one guy she seems to really like.

My lips turned into an amused smile, eyebrows remaining furrowed from my slight confusion.

"Why his arm? And who's Holland?" I questioned her slowly.

With slight frustration, Myra said, "Holland is some girl who can't seem to know the policies of dibs. We were friends up until she threw a greasy, french fry in my face and called me a slimy whore."

Dibs. They were probably fighting over this Bryan guy, which I most likely would expect to be the total package because why else would these two girls want him? Unless I've misjudged the situation and Bryan is wealthy.

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