disaster || h.s.

disaster - a short story.

hs au | one shot

book the first.

copyright 2014.

And so it begins.

• • •

"Disaster is my middle name," the boy shouts over the sleazy music that echoes through the classy, cream-colored ballroom full of teenagers.

He is drunk on champagne. His bow tie has been knocked slightly askew, and a large hand grasps the elegant stem of his current glass, which he's waving around dauntlessly as he speaks. The boy is from a wealthy family, I know. He is a captain of his prep school's celebrated lacrosse team. He's been a member of this yacht club for his whole life, just as I have. He claims to have gone to the semi-annual dances here since the sixth grade, although the middle school version of this dance is much less exclusive, and they serve Capri-Suns instead of champagne.

"Do you need a refill?" He yells, finally taking notice that I haven't adhered to the trend of extreme intoxication that is beginning to sweep through the cavernous hall.

I catch him glancing at my breasts, and I self-consciously yank up the front of my flower-print strapless dress. Staring is rude, and this guy doesn't seem like he ever got the memo.

He's quite attractive, but also quite drunk. That combination is nothing but bad news. Especially when I have a boyfriend.

"No, thank you," I politely scream back, motioning with my full cup of plain old water. The kids here that are drunk- it is not their first time doing it, and certainly not their last. But I know from experience that what you abuse will do nothing but abuse you back.

"Did you, like, sneak in vodka?" He questions, looking at me like he wishes he had thought of that first.

"No, no... It's champagne, white champagne. But, uh... I've got to get going now. I'll see you later," I blurt anxiously, spinning around on a heel and ducking away, submerging myself in the crowd.

"Wait!" I hear a cry from behind me, but it fades quickly into the roar that is making the dimly-lit chandeliers tremor slightly above our heads.

I hate these dances. I had no desire to come to this one, but my boyfriend, Gunner, forced me to attend. Stupid Gunner.

Truth is, I don't like Gunner very much anymore. We met through our parents. When I first caught sight of Gunner, I thought I could fall in love with the handsome boy who stood blushing before me. However, that feeling faded too fast. He, like the boy with the crooked tie, attends a prep school that I don't go to. He's a spoiled, rich brat, and I know for a fact that he's cheated on me in the past. I've heard all the stories. I just could never bring myself to break up with the guy who I have been dating for almost two years.

I hope I can strengthen up enough to get rid of him soon.

I keep an eye out for the handsome dirty-blond. Last I saw him, he was standing in a corner, holding a beer bottle and probably smoking something with his friends from school. I don't care for them, and the way that they all wear the same baby blue pants and white button-down shirts. They are dangerous; they look harmless at first glance, but it's all a trap.

Wandering about, I get the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Yes, my friends are here, but they're grinding on strangers, and even on each other. I spot them here and there, and I make a point to look away immediately.

Parent "chaperones" stand against the walls, sipping expensive wine and laughing at their drunk children. This town we live in, it is a strange one. Rich, privileged, picked on by everyone on the outside. Hated universally, except when there's a party. Then, everyone loves us. Parents often supply the liquor and weed. The people here complain about the "stupid rich people" stereotype, but then go and prove it to be endlessly right. They don't understand that their efforts to remove the heavy assumptions only make things worse. It's tiring, but I know I could never leave this place. I'm stuck, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's not Gunner, or school, or even my big, deep-rooted family that's keeping me here. I need a valid reason to stay, but I don't have one at the moment.