Seven #3
“Ehhh, parents want me to go to college.”
“Lame.”
“Nah. Think of all the parties and shit. Just like this one.”
A third voice chimed in. “Come on, guys. There’s way more to college than just parties,” he paused. “Like all the chicks!”
I scoffed loudly, causing them to look over at me.
Shit.
“You got something to say?”
“Don’t ya th-think…” I swallowed hard, only now realizing how drunk I was. “Don’t you think you’ll need a brain to get into college?”
I tried to look intimidating, but I momentarily lost my footing and shuffled to the side like an idiot. The tallest of the bunch smirked at me.
“Look, Clarke, you’ve got balls, that’s for sure, but how about you leave the guy-talk to the guys, and sit there like the pretty little girl you are.”
I balled my hands into fists. Their laughter assaulted my ears as the three boys slapped each other on the back and rallied out of the kitchen.
Why are boys such assholes? I let out an exasperated sigh as I slammed my phone onto the countertop, accidentally opening my messages and displaying Elliot’s name at the center of the screen.
“Abercrombie,” I muttered aloud. “Maybe he can tell me why his species sucks.”
I knew I was buzzed, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. For once, it was time to just… do . No thinking. Just doing. I reached for my phone, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety, and dialed Elliot’s number, hoping he would pick up.
“Hello?” he answered, his voice sounding groggy on the other end of the line.
“Abercrombie! Hey! Why are males asshats?”
“What?”
“Males? Asshats? What aren’t you understanding?”
“Clarke, are you drunk?”
“ Noooo ,” I drawled. “Okay…maybe.”
“It’s almost eleven. Where the hell are you?”
“Mason’s party, which by the way is beyoooond lame. There are way too many horny people here. Everyone just wants to have sex and shit, but I’m gooood . I’m Gouda. Like, I don’t need that, ya know? Well, not from them anyway…”
“Are you okay?”
“Never better.” I cleared my throat. “Anyways, boys are asshats, right? Like regardless of social status, you all kinda suck.”
“Did someone do something to you tonight?”
“Just boys being boys, am I right?”
“Uhhh…look, you sound pretty fucked up and the guys at this party seem lame. You should go home. Call your parents or something.”
“Why? Because you think I’m soooo irresponsible that I can’t take care of myself?” I scoffed. “Well, I am plenty responsible. I have a ton of responsibilities and…stuff. Not just Prom Queen.” I swallowed my saliva, my mouth full of spit from talking so much. “So anyways, I can handle—ooop! Shit!”
I clambered to catch a large porcelain vase, clutching it in my hands seconds before the glass shattered on the floor, all while flinging my phone to the side. My breathing wavered as I carefully set the vase back on the counter where it belonged and picked up my phone.
Where the hell did that thing even come from?
“Clarke? You alive over there?”
“I think?”
“That’s it.” I heard shuffling on the other end of the line. “I’m coming to get you.”
“W-what? No. I don’t need—”
“Be there in ten minutes.”
The line went dead.
You’d think the idea of some pseudo Prince Charming riding in on a white horse to save me would be flattering, but it wasn’t.
Maybe it was just all the alcohol I had drank, but I was so done with everyone on the planet—Meredith, Mason, Kendra, Camryn, Ryan, those three dickheads who came into the kitchen, and even the white knight himself, Elliot.
They all sucked. Fuck me for trying to have a fun night with my friends, I guess.
Guess I’d just have to tough it out alone.
Just me and my old pal—whatever the hell was in this cup .
I didn’t need some self-righteous guy swooping in to save me, and there was no way I would run crying to Meredith. I just needed to relax and maybe shut off my brain like everyone else seemed to be doing.
With another hefty sip of my drink, I waltzed back into the room of flashing lights. The alcohol wrapped around me like a warm haze, dissolving my anxieties.
I swayed my hips to the music, letting the beat take control. Propping myself against a random stranger’s shoulder, I climbed onto the coffee table, instantly drawing eyes.
Funny thing, though—it didn’t bother me like it normally would.
These people adored me, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.
Every girl wanted to be me, and every guy wanted to have me.
Too bad none of them ever would. Not that it mattered.
Most of my relationships were just shallow illusions, anyway.
No one here knew the real me—the quiet, socially anxious, book-obsessed girl hiding beneath the surface.
Maybe if I had been myself when I first moved here, I could’ve made real friends instead of collecting hollow, lifeless imitations.
All for Prom Queen, right? Smirking, I bent forward and snatched a red cup from a small brunette’s hand.
She looked way too young to be here, anyway.
“Vote Clarke Taylor for Homecoming Queen!” I shouted, holding the cup to the sky.
The crowd erupted in cheers, fueling the fire of my ego.
A surge of pride washed over me. These people hung on my every move, completely enthralled.
Playing the role of the bubbly, ditzy blonde was second nature by now.
If anything, the real challenge was being myself.
Fortunately, they were far too oblivious to realize I’d been faking it for the last three years.
Except for Elliot.
I froze, scanning the sea of faceless people that surrounded me.
Had I really fooled everyone, or were there others who saw through me?
Had the outcasts at school always known I was nothing but a fraud?
Maybe I’d spent too much time trying to win over the wrong crowd.
But I couldn’t just abandon my so-called friends.
Turning against them would mean giving up on Prom Queen, and even if I wanted to shed the mask and join the outcasts, how could I ever reach a group that saw me as nothing more than an ‘ entitled, prissy bitch ?’
A wave of nausea rolled through me, bile rising in my throat.
No way I could let anyone see me puke—especially the one group of people who worshipped me.
Forcing it down, I tipped my red cup back and chugged the rest of its contents.
I blinked hard, willing myself to stay grounded, but the flashing lights only made everything worse.
My vision blurred, the room tilting around me.
It only took one small step to the left, and I had lost my footing, tumbling off the table.
That two-foot drop felt so much higher when everything was spinning.
Closing my eyes, I braced myself for a hard thud as I tensed my entire body.
But it never came. Instead, I felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around me, stopping my impending death.
Dazed, I looked up—and met Elliot’s gaze.