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𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑺𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆
𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑
Ariella stumbled to a halt, nearly colliding with Valerie's back. The clearing before them pulsated with booming music and the flickering glow of several bonfires. Bodies swayed and gyrated in the firelight, a tangled mess of limbs and laughter. The air reeked of woodsmoke and something decidedly less pleasant—cheap beer.
A groan escaped Ariella's lips. This was precisely the kind of scene she'd sworn off years ago, back in the suffocating social whirl of Metropolis.
With its relentless pursuit of a salacious story, The Daily Planet loved painting her as a party girl, a socialite with a hidden wild streak. The truth, as always, was far less glamorous. Parties brought back memories she desperately tried to bury, remnants of a life that felt light-years away.
Oblivious to Ariella's internal turmoil, Valerie nudged her forward with a mischievous grin.
"See? Told you it'd be fun!" she shouted over the music, her voice thick with a hint of slurred cheer.
Ariella forced a smile.
Fun.
Right.
The only warmth came from the distant bonfires, offering little comfort against the icy bite of the night air.
Her thin green sleeves offered scant protection, and she glared at Valerie. "I wouldn't be this miserable if you hadn't made me leave my jacket in the car."
Valerie just winked. "Building character, Ari. Besides, I bet someone will give you their jacket in no time."
Ariella rolled her eyes.
Picking fights with Valerie was a losing battle. The girl was a force of nature, and Ariella knew she'd probably end up dragged into the bonfire's warmth by the night's end.
A fresh gust of wind whipped through the clearing, sending a shiver down Ariella's spine and whipping her hair around her face.
Valerie, oblivious momentarily, yelled over the music, "Come on, Ari! Let's get you warmed up by the fire."
She grabbed Ariella's arm, pulling her towards the bonfire's flickering light.
As Ariella walked, her gaze swept across the gathering.
It seemed like most of the school was here—a chaotic mix of bobbing heads and drunken laughter. But as they drew closer to the bonfire's warmth, Ariella's stomach lurched. Huddled around the crackling flames were the usual suspects—the football players, all brawn and bravado, and their accompanying cheerleaders, all smiles and short skirts.
