At first look, Eliza Pariseau is a normal girl. Like all seventeen-year-old kids of her country, she goes to a boarding-school-like Prep School to start getting ready for University. But there's something that differs her from the other students: s...
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Saturday, 29th March - Just after lunch. At my beloved room at the castle.
It's funny how things can change so much in just one night. One light lower, one song louder, a good amount of alcohol and everything can seem different. Every drama and every doubt come up. What a difference a party night at the dorm makes!
A difference, by the way, that's not always for the best. Just the opposite, it tends to be for the worse really.
It wasn't the first party someone threw at the dorm, but it was the first one I went to. At the other times, I'd rather stay in my room. I've never been much of person to go out a lot, besides being to some parties at the castle that were exclusive to my friends, meaning, me and my cousins. But in all honesty, when it came to student-thrown parties, I was always a bit afraid of what they might do.
And what I might do as well. Or even better, say. When I turned sixteen years old and could finally legally drink beer, my mum was sure to give me a little lecture about why she had hidden me from the public and how important it was to have this controlled until my eighteenth birthday. She used as an example all the kids that had grown in front of the cameras, all the teen celebrities that had lost their ways. She must've also used some princes around the world that, at that time, were experiencing certain problems with the media. All that to ask me to be very careful from then on. You never know, her words, what the alcohol will do to your tongue.
If it depended on her, I would never drink. But she accepts me drinking without revealing all the possible secrets about my family.
I do understand her intention of wanting me to have the most normal life possible and not being bombed since I was little with people judging me from head to toe since I won't have to assume anything. However, after a few calmer outings with the girls to bars at the city, beer nights and talks at our room, I realised that wasn't going to be a problem. Unlike Joan, who practically knows people who already know who I am, my days are made of lies. I wouldn't unintentionally let out a comment about who I was. Not even alcohol can do that to me.
On the other hand, alcohol can do worst things. It can make me make decisions which I already regret! Stupid decisions, which I really want to forget about now! For example, the moment in which I thought it'd be a good idea to throw this party.
I'll start from the beginning.
The last time I wrote was Thursday before they announced the Belforte Games. I think I've already talked about them here, way back on the first days of class. It's that competition with weird modalities the school organises every five years to celebrate our founder's, George Belforte, anniversary. He was born here, hence the name of the city and school. It's the obligation of maintaining such tradition.
I believe there will be a baseball competition, a talent show, things like that. The truth is that it doesn't matter, not to me. Every student that would like to be raffled to any of the modalities needs to sign up, sign a paper and put it in their House's box. I'll keep myself as far away from that.
