Cassia Bartnett, lacrosse star.
Jace Everard, fellow lacrosse star.
Two kids that aren't ready to be in relationships? Absolutely.
What could possibly go wrong?
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Another night, another party.
Even better, it was one of the three nice (aka not rainy) days of the year.
And I was stuck in some frilly dress with some itchy mask over my eyes at some frivolous masquerade "ball".
Sounds awesome, right? Literally nothing could make me happier.
Except, I dunno, anything but this.
I hated the color yellow. It was one of those colors that you were supposed to like, because you're supposed to be bright and happy and kind and put together and perfect. Believe it or not, I don't have anything against the color pink. Pink would be awesome, if it wasn't associated with femininity so much. Same with blue. Shouldn't colors just be colors?
I'm rambling now. I'm sure nobody wants to read a bunch of rambling, so I guess I can describe it a little better.
The dress itself wasn't bad; It was a lighter yellow, with little gold touches that I thought were completely unnecessary. There was a little too much tulle for my liking, but it least it wasn't some tight-fitting short piece that my dad would call me a slut for wearing.
My sister was in her own "absolutely adorable" baby blue ensemble, and my mother couldn't stop fawning over her. Man, there was no way to tell that my mom hated my dad for the fact that my sister existed, not on days like these.
That sentence probably made no sense.
The ride to wherever the hell this ball was being held was uneventful, my mother somehow already managing to have a glass of wine in her hand. I don't know how she got away with that in the car, but I guess my father didn't care and if anybody would pull us over, it would be him.
The party would be a bunch of rich kids and their rich parents. Maybe even their rich grandparents, if you really wanted to get the slurs flowing. Nobody at these parties liked me, but I couldn't blame them. I didn't like me, either.
"Bartnett," my father told the valet, tossing him the keys.
I watched the kid's eyes light up, although I guess "kid" isn't the right word — he was probably older than me.
