THE TRASH PARTY!

This was literally a nightmare.

From the way the flame-haired girl assaulted her ears with chords to the chunks of cake that flew into the air like fireworks, Whitney had had quite enough. She took light, wobbly steps out of her corner, hoping not to collect vanilla icing in addition to whatever else had coagulated on the soles of her heels tonight. Each time she thought she had never seen a place so chaotic, it merely got worse as more people piled in through the door.

Whitney placed her hands atop her head, blowing air through her cheeks in frustration. I can't keep looking like a loser. Desperately, her eyes scanned the crowd until they latched onto a bobbing head of brown curls in one of the opposite corners. It seemed like she was alone. Perfect.

She half-stumbled, half-hurried towards the other girl, pausing when she heard Kyle call for everyone to take shots. She turned her head, noticing someone on the dance floor with two red plastic cups in their hands, and snatched one from their grasp. "Hey, what the fuck?" they protested.

"Learn to share, will ya?" Whitney snapped, her hand arched over the top of the cup. She then neared the girl in the corner, putting on her brightest smile.

"Hiii," she sang. "You're... Sabella, right?"

She adjusted the cup in her hands and took a swig, not expecting the acerbic taste that filled her mouth. Her throat constricted and face contorted, but she forced herself to swallow. She coughed. "Fun party, right?"

What in the actual fuck was wrong with her?