v. what a biting party

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V.     What A Biting Party


     What A Biting Party

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  THE PARTY HAD ALREADY BEEN in full commencement by the time Bianca had drove her car up the soil ridden hills that made up the network of the Falls. The flicker of orange light illuminated through the darkness, providing some useful light that the already drunken assortment of teenagers circling near it were desperately needing. Music blared from the portable stereos lining any available surface, whether the back of someone's truck or the benches of the gazebo. Everything about the setting rang true of a teenage party- the assortment of half drank solo cups littering the ground, kegs of beer racked up near the side, heavy and exaggerated displays of affection (if swallowing someone's soul could be called that).

      Once she had put her car in park, her eyes caught on to a figure hurrying towards her. "Aw, were you waiting on little ol' me? I am the life of the party."

      Antonio let out a snort, not bothering to fight the roll of his eyes as he made his way over to the Amorettee teen's beat up car. "Oh yes, the lord and savior of parties, Bianca Amorettee is finally here! Her presence is such blessing."

      Bianca pouted. "I'm sensing some sarcasm in your voice, these prayers don't sound genuine. Just for that," she reached into the backseat and gathered the two boxes of recently made pastries, waving them across the Lockwood boy's face so that the aroma would soon register. "you aren't getting any cinnamon rolls."

      Brown eyes widened, following the cardboard box as Bianca brushed past him. "Hey, hey, wait, that's not fair. It was my idea that you should make them in the first place. Doesn't that mean I get, like, a share of the profit?"

      "But I baked these myself."

      "And I gave you the idea. Seems fair."

      Bianca snorted. "Seems like you're profiting off my unpaid labor."

      It didn't take long for the rest of their friends to surround them, each with eagerness to sink their teeth into the soft dough texture. If there were a few things each member of the group was known for, Bianca, by far, carried the title of the baker. Adopting the trait near the middle of her middle school year, the hobby had quickly taken off and long since had gained a following. Whether it was suggestions for a platter of chocolate chip cookies to a double layered vanilla cream cake, suggestions were always near.

      "At least I know I never have to stray to far away to find some taste testers." Bianca pointed to where Antonio and Elena stood, only a fraction away from wolfing down the pastry without much concern for frosting slowly beginning to coat their faces. "I always have you two slobs."

      Both brunette teens paused their movements, brown eyes similar to that of a doe narrowed in offense. "Hey," they both said in unison, but it was hard to be intimated by someone when their chin was painted in crumbs.

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