Mystic Force

1

[A final look over, wait another one just in case, one more wouldn't hurt?]

Riley Skyes is now the glorified age of 21, and like most, she flocks to the streets to have her first drink. It calms her senses to know that this one is legal, even if the taste is vile. However at parties, she prefers to dance more than anything, no matter how similar her moves mocked a dying bird.

As she checks her make up and dress for what seems to be the 10th time, her nervousness is evident in her lined eyes. Her curvy and amber shaded body seems to just fit the almost scandalous attire. But why are her hands shaking?

The night is almost born, the sunset yawning over the busy streets. Her apartment bedroom, held on the 5th floor, is only lit by her dresser, the yellow hued bulbs frames the mirror. The mess of over night bags, dropped makeup and large canvases are the theme of her room.

"You look great Riles," Webby, her best friend, says. "I just wish I had curves like that. Just appreciate what you have! You know, your eyes are glowing brighter than usual." Webby stands and plays with Riley's dyed kinky curls.

Webby is a pale, tall girl with a smaller frame and lanky build, the two have been together before words formed in their toothless bodies.

"These aren't curves, they are lumps of skin," Riley says in response, an arched eyebrow pointing at Webby. "You look great though! Boys look at you all the time, how don't you have a man?"

"I don't think you notice but most guys these days want curves not nerdy sticks." Webby argues but is cut off, by an external source.

"Did I interrupt this pity party?" Faith said, letting herself into the apartment.

She is a petite college freshman with the confidence of a Senior. "Riley we're using your car since I walked here, and Webby sit down hun I'll do your hair."

She drops her bag with the rest of the accumulating mess on the bed, the sheets are lost in random items. Faith is another good friend of course, her presence completes the trio.

"Like we don't always use my car on girls night." Riley giggles at her sarcasm. "You know I'm not going to let you borrow it, no matter how many gifts you give me. My Rose, my baby; find another way to get to frat party next weekend."

"How'd you know I'd ask?" Faith pouts, looking up to Riley. "You're no fun! What's one party going to do with it? And why did you name your car Rose?" she collects her clothes from her bag, going to change in the bathroom.

The girls chit chat for a while, which helps Riley's nerves settle. For a moment it didn't feel as if she is alone to fight this scary world, a feeling of dependence on her friends made a smile slowly rise. But there is a feeling of doubt tonight, her ankles shake slightly in her heels.

The night is coming into full bloom as the reds and oranges of the room slips away.

"Well I'm ready to go," Riley inquires. "Meet me outside when you're ready."

The other two grunt in response as Riley heads downstairs with her purse tightly on her fingertips. She is glad she could get away, as soon as the other girls notice a hint of uncertainty, Riley knew they would call off the night.

When she reaches the garage of the apartment complex she starts her 2011 Camaro named Rose for its unique painting, which she did herself. This is a perfect time to calm her nerves, she takes deep breaths as she grips he leather stirring wheel. It is embarrassing enough for this to be her first time to a club, for her to be this nervous is worse; her lays her head on the wheel. After a few minutes the other two girls get to her car and they drive off.