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Everything.
She’s practically drugged with all the luxury and is currently reaching cloud nine.
To say I’m not intimidated myself would be a lie. I’ve always disliked places that make me feel out of my depth. Places where I hold the importance of an insignificant insect that can be crushed at any time and won’t be remembered.
That’s the prominent emotion coursing through me right now.
I want to go back.
Or disappear somewhere where I’m not under a microscope.
I thought escaping Aunt Sharon and Uncle Bob’s house was all I needed, but this scene is probably not what will make me feel better.
So I take a drink—or two. Okay, maybe three.
It’s diluted alcohol anyway, but it tastes like rosemary and something exotic. Definitely better than the beer Caroline stole from her alcoholic father so we could try it.
That was no different than unsanitary water mixed with the stench of cigarettes.
Caroline smacks my hand when I reach for another drink. “Don’t look so desperate.”
“Uh, hello? I only came for the drinks and food, Callie.”
“Then do that in a corner, not where everyone can see you acting like a ghetto rat.”
I stare her square in the eye. “You’re a ghetto rat yourself.”
“I don’t act like it.”
“When was the last time you had a proper meal, Miss I Don’t Act Like It?” When she doesn’t reply, I scoop up some luxurious-looking snacks and push them against her mouth. “That’s what I thought. Now, eat before your stomach starts making embarrassing noises.”
She grumbles something, but she does eat, and then accompanies me on the mission to be full for days to come.
After a while, though, her focus returns to her previous mission, and she rakes her gaze all over the crowd.
“Maybe desperate should’ve been your costume, not an angel.”
She smiles at my dry sense of humor. “Don’t know about you, bitch, but I’m getting out of that hellhole even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I’m getting out, too.”
“Wanna bet who’s going to do it first?”
“We can do it together.”
“Not with your ‘I’m gonna do it myself’ attitude. Now, help me hunt.”
I definitely don’t, and keep stealing food and drinks behind her back. What? I’m malnourished at home and started working part-time to pay for my meals. The drinks, however, are an extravagance I’m allowing myself in order to forget and bide my time until I can leave.
My chance comes when Caroline finds her prey for the night—a blond guy in a fallen angel costume.
As soon as she hits it off with him, I slip out of their little group before she shoves me at one of his friends.
I pull the strap of my dress over my shoulder, cradle a plate of pastries and a drink, then disappear out back.
The night’s air stabs my bare arms and I consider looking for my jacket.
Stuffing my face with some chocolate cake, I start my way through the vast, dimly lit garden.
