On The Fifth Day

Day One

The party was on track to be one of the biggest of the year. I knew it was gonna be great because I, for one, was hosting. Don't get me wrong, my friends were decent hosts, but no one could hold a candle up to me. No one could hold a candle up to my nice, spacious backyard. It was half concrete and half grass, and had an above ground pool. It was a perfect spot for summer.
I felt hands on my shoulders and jumped. I turned around and Alex, one of my best friends, was smiling at me.

"Can you believe it? The year is almost over! We're about to be high school graduates! Aren't you excited?"

I nodded at her absentmindedly, gaze on the table cloth in front of me as the wind picked up its edges and fought for dominance over my party. A cup full of liquor, I think it was beer, toppled over onto the ground. A blonde girl, like me, made a beeline for the red solo cup.
"Sam! Why did you choose to have a party the summer on the windiest day of the summer?" I rolled my eyes at Paige, my other best friend. "Because silly," I said, smoothlu walking over to the bottle of vodka my mom had bought for us and twisting up in the top, downing some of liquor. It burned, but it was a smooth kind of burn, the kind that you wanted to feel trickling down your throat, because it meant energy. I meant tranquility. It meant relaxation, it meant better mindset for better days.

"Why not? It's a week from graduation, I couldn't wait anymore."

Paige rolled her eyes at me and turns Alex, who was walking up to her and patting down the flyways of her short red hair.

"Alex, Sam is cursed by the wind." We all giggled as we heard footsteps behind us. I turned around and looked. Shelby, my neighbor. She wasn't really popular, but she was not anobody either. She was in the same grade as us, so I decided to invite her to the party. She smiled and waved, dark skin gleaming under heavy sunlight. She had perfect white teeth which I was jealous of. It reminded me of the chip in my front tooth when I failed to ride a bike when I was nine. I grew a smile at the memory, then turned back to my two best friends.

"I'll be back."

I walked past Shelby and into the house. It smelled like vanilla, the scent my mother hated but I loved. I had lit about five vanilla candles before everyone came over because I could not be known as a girl whose house smelled like dog. Even though I loved my dog, my house couldn't smell like that. Everything had to be in perfect, tiptop condition. After all, I was one of the power trio. Everyone watched everything I did. Everything I did had to be perfect, had a to fit a standard, had to be scrutinized under a microscope by my peers. Sometimes it was exhausting, but it was exhilarating to live life this way. It was exhilarating to party, to live, to laugh, to know that there was gonna be another party tomorrow, and I had my best friends by my side in the school hallway, and no one was  ever gonna bully me again.

Samantha Presley used to be a name that was mocked  very openly in the school hallways when I was younger. In elementary and middle school, all they ever wanted was friends. All I ever wanted was to be loved, and accepted. And now I had that, and I had to keep up appearances. And if that meant making sure my house smelled good, and making sure I had the best liquor available, and making sure everyone had a good time in my presence, then so be it.

I strolled into the house and glanced at the ornate mirror my mom and sister insisted on putting in the middle of the hall. My hair was in a messy bun, but the cute and stylish kind instead of the type that make people gag. My hair was naturally blonde, but I had added some toner to give it a more vibrant color. My eyes, unfortunately, were dark, and they weren't pretty like Paige's. In fact, I thought they were the ugliest thing about me. I knew someone who had the prettiest eyes once. But we didn't talk about her.

I took two more steps before spotting my mom with her wine glass, sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen. She smiled and waved. I walked over to her, looked down at her glass of chardenay, and scoffed before picking up the glass to have a sip. Not my favorite, but I didn't mind how wine made me feel.