The most rad pool party ever. Caroline Cassnon, a 'stiff' wants to shed her rputation, so she throws an awesome (huge) get-toghter with all sorts of people (and nut-jobs, and egos...) While at the party, many new (and strange people are introduced ;)
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No one knew how to throw a party better than I did. This was going off exactly as I planned, which was quite frankly, sexy. As a matter in fact a certain Frank, my older brother, thought that this wouldn’t be a success. Ha, he had just made a complete idiot of himself for ever assuming that.
I kept my smile on my face as I lounged in one of my parents’ many chairs in our spacious backyard. The sun was at the most perfect heat intensity, thus not giving my skin a hell of a party. That was perfect, because unlike last summer, I won’t start out with sunburnt skin.
I pulled my large Dior sunglasses over my eyes and watched everyone from where I was sitting. There were many people, even though I initially intended to invite only thirty-five. Yet, all those thirty-five people invited their friends, and their friends decided to invite their friends. I didn’t hate that really, because their friends happen to be very yummy boys from Fortune Smithson Academy. Mm.
“I stand corrected sis,” Frank said as he approached me, sitting in the chair next to mine. He was rubbing the back of his neck, which was slathered in sunscreen already. On top of his coppery hair was a baseball cap for Passion in the Departure Lounge, his favourite unknown band. I marvelled at the way he managed to make himself look so cool with all of the sunscreen plopped onto his prefect nose.
My hand reached across for the drink on the side table. I took a sip and looked up at him from my sunglasses, “What do you mean Frankie?”
He sighed, seeming annoyed with my cool casual demeanour. He waved his hand and asked, “Caroline, do you actually have to make me suffer through this?”
Letting out a chuckle I replied, “Yeah, I have to.” While I bit my straw, I pointed out, “It’s finally my turn to be right, you know after you had your years of glory...” I sat back and burst into a fit of giggles, being right never felt so good.
Frank rolled his eyes at me and slumps his shoulders. He was scanning the posh scenery and said, “Listen, I don’t even know how you pulled this off. I thought you were a stiff.”
I scowled at him. I hated whenever he called me that. I wasn’t a stiff. I was so loose; I was the most casual person here. How could he even say that?
“Hey, how’s it going Frankie?”
My brother and I turned around to see Brent Cooper standing over us. Brent is Frank’s friend, from Fortune Smith Academy. I think they met at Brent’s ex-girlfriend’s party or something like that... I didn’t care, what I cared about was for him to ask me to be his girlfriend. I felt my cheeks flame, although, he wouldn’t even think of looking at me that way—as long as Frank (overbearing) was around.
“Not bad, what’s going on with you?” Frank answered back as he and Brent high-fived each other. Ugh. That was the only thing that got to me. Brent still high-fived people, it was mortifying.
Brent shrugged, “Meh, the usual, my father wants me to get a job,” he shuddered. Then he said, “Oh, and I’ve scored a few tickets to see Passion in the Departure Lounge...”
Frank stood up in his seat, “Whoa, what?” He almost made his voice crack as he started to yell, pushing Brent all the time he did it. “No way! No freakin’ way!” When he calmed down, he asked, “How many tickets?”
“Hmm...About enough for all of us to go...”
I looked up now, gaining interest, “Me too?”
Frank looked down at me and scoffed, while Brent gave an awkward look. I kept staring at Brent, who was now looking down on the floor, avoiding me.
“Well...” I prompted.
Even Frank looked at him, waiting.
Then, Brent laughed and said, “Stiff, I don’t think your brother might enjoy having you tagging along with us—it might cramp his style.” He gave a tight apologetic smile as he shrugged. A short moment later, he glanced over his shoulder and exclaimed, "I gotta go tell Harrison and Jake, they just arrived now—dude, are you coming?”
Frank nodded his head, “Yeah.” Before he walked away though, he gave me one glance. It was the look that he got every time he saw me looking sad or hurt. His mouth twisted into a tight frown. Then he said, “Don’t worry, Brentford’s just a dumbass, okay?” He smirked and left.
That might have reassured me, but knowing what Brent said just crushed me. I idolized Brent, ever since I was a hopeless nine year old—that was the first year I got to know him. He and Frankie became friends way before my brother switched from Fortune to go to Compton Prep. They were friends ever since they were twelve, when they had to sit next to each other in detention for the whole month in their First Year of Entrance Exams. They had aggravated the teacher by asking him too many questions about preparations for the test.
Anyhow, the moment I saw Brent, it was like seeing the Prince in Shining armour that I usually drew in my art books, dark glossy hair, darkest bluest eyes, a sexy smile (yes, even though I drew his mouth in with a red crayon), Brent fit that description in perfectly. He was perfect. We are perfect for each other, I just knew it.
Even if now, that my heart had a little piece of it taken out by his crude remark, I still loved him. No matter how many crude remarks he said to me (i.e. stiff, chicken legs, scarecrow, broad); I still felt something whenever I heard him say a word to me.
I lied my head down onto my chair and listened to the music blaring from the speakers. Fiona had made that mix tape for me, before she left for England this summer, she wanted me to use it when I had this party. Fiona wanted to stay here so badly so that she could celebrate the hardest she’s ever partied, without ending up sick on the bathroom floor by the end, or half naked, dancing on the kitchen table—both accounts happened before—she just wanted a great time. So she said I should play the mix tape in her absence.
“Hey, heads up!”
Before I was able to react, a ball hit me in the face. I almost fell out of my seat. It didn’t hurt all that much, it was just the humiliation that came with being hit.
“Whoa, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to throw it at you!” Some guy’s voice sounded.
When I looked up, the sun was blocked out of my view. I looked up and saw the guy; I didn’t know him, which just made me even more pissed. I had the ball in my hands and tapped it hard. I wanted so badly to throw it at him, but I stopped myself, the hostess can never act that way. She shouldn’t.
He held his hands out in front of me, a queue for me to throw it over to him. Instead of handing it gently, I threw it, causing him to run for it. I watched as he went after it. I grinned, settling into my chair, satisfied with my work. I took my glass and sipped away, thinking about how gracefully, I managed to get vengeance.