Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns these characters. I don't.
My roommate and I are complete opposites. We like to stay up late but other than that, she sticks to her side and I stick to mine.
She's secretive and feisty and raw and real and it's like I'm fictional compared.
Anything that is against the rules, she likes.
The first day I arrived to this school she told me about a party out of town.
She used to tell me all the time about these parties. It seemed as if they were happening every night. But as each invitation was declined, the parties seemed to have been spread further and further apart each week.
Maybe they were still happening every night or maybe she had just stopped mentioning them.
However, my response is still the same.
Today I search my desk; my fingers curl around anonymous papers, flipping and folding and searching until I find the right one.
The six words are written down in scrawl but I can still read it.
I have a taxi come and get me and I read off the six words to him and he seems confused by my attire and my sound of voice and my presence in general but he starts the cab anyway and we drive. We drive for a while until we are not driving at all and I am standing on an unfamiliar block.
I follow the sound. Like a dog. I follow.
In a building, there are lights and noise and vibration; it's bouncing off the walls of the building, bouncing off the walls in my chest cavity.
I walk in deeper, caressing my middle with my arms. I walk straight into the chaos of dancing strangers; they hold their hands up high as their bodies maneuver and wander, grinding and sliding.
The music zips through my spine and I find myself being wafted in. And then I hold my hands up in the air too, with sultry. My body moves with the others, gliding and wrecked, like the others. Hands fall to my waist and I am laughing breathless laughs.
And when it looks like the sun has hit the sky, I go to leave.
But I leave nothing behind; no clues, no indication as to where I was.