when I wake up | {nyte}

There was something to be said for the way the detention center had altered her life. She had gone into it a frightened little girl, ashamed of what she had done, and came out a hardened woman, ashamed she had been caught. She almost enjoyed the looks she got, the whispers of: "That's her! That's Adele!"

"That's the girl that was spying on the Peacekeepers!"

That was not true, necessarily. She was not spying: she was learning. If the dumbasses had taken the time to read her journal they would have seen the notes.

"-- Forceful hand
-- Power in numbers
-- Shoot to kill"

But she was punished all the same, wasn't she? She was punished by the people she idolized simply for idolizing them, which seemed like a joke to her. It seemed like a joke to everyone she bothered explaining it to, in fact, but mostly she didn't care. The new aura that was created around her, the new feelings people felt when they watched her walk were sort of thrilling in a dangerous sort of way and addictive in a way that was just strong enough to keep her high from it.

She made a show of doing what was expected of her: Smoking cigarettes, attending parties, drinking. And to her own shock, she liked it. She liked being normal. She liked feeling like one of those teenagers who did something despite the chance of ending up behind bars instead of trying to be the people that put them there.

Which is why she found herself sitting in a bar with Ada. It was obvious she was uncomfortable. Hell, Adele couldn't blame her. Adele was changing in a way Ada wasn't okay with, and part of her hated that Ada's love turned out to be so conditional. The other part of her hated that she was no longer the one person Ada wanted to spend all her time with. "Loosen up," she said, nudging her friend. "You haven't even finished one drink!"

"I actually don't feel well. I think... I think I'm gonna head home early."

Adele watched as her friend (they were still friends, right?) stood and gathered her belongings. "Sorry." and just like that, she was gone.

Adele rolled her eyes. Fine, if Ada wasn't going to accept who she was, she would find someone who would. And if things went the way she planned, validation would come in the form of the cute boy a few seats down.

He already seemed thoroughly drunk, which was good. She sometimes hated how long they wanted to wait around before they had swallowed enough liquid courage to take her home. "I won't bite," she promised when she caught him shooting her a glance.

"It's Adele. Adele Santiego."

ϟ
table by zoe