"Will you guys S-T-F-U!" I screamed.

I was trying to study for something. It's Saturday. WAY past sunset. Desmond's crack parties always drive me crazy.

If someone hacks another glow stick at my head, I'm gonna kill people.

OK, if Delilah's coming here, I would have expected to see her run away screaming from all these idiots.

"Dude!" Des called me, I twitched. "It's a party! Have some fun!"

I flipped the bird at him.

He shrugged, "Whatever, man,"

I flipped through the pages of my textbook, bored to death.

DELILAH GET OVER HERE I'M BBOOOOORRRRREEEEDDD!

I heard a thud on the door. Des got up to get it.

"Is it Dare?" I wondered aloud.

"Why hello there, beautiful," Desmond murmured.

"Delilah?" I asked, sitting up on my bed.

Nope.

The girl that stood in the doorway was NOTHING like the Delilah that I knew!

She was Goth... Very Goth. The girl had short cropped, jet black hair that was streaked with electric blue and sexy lavender. She wore a dull black partial jacket, zipped, that reached only to her waist and a (I believe) a dark gray tank top with bloody claw marks underneath. There was a strange lump partly down the right sleeve. Her pleaded mini-skirt had a long chain on the left side and glow sticks (that matched her hair streaks almost perfectly) attached to the other. She also had dirty combat boots and fish net leggings, undistressed. Her fingerless gloves were roughly sewn together with fish net and ripped at the wrist. She wore purple glittery lip gloss and dark blue eye shadow, eyes lined with feline-style eyeliner. Her nails were long and sharpened to a point. AND she had a TAIL! Literally! It was light gray with a white tip!

And she had a cat, too; sitting on her shoulder obediently. The cat (probably female) was jet black with blue eyes. Its fur was striped with alternating pinks and purples. It wore striped green emo legwarmers on all four paws. The collar was studded with teeth and a spiked tail bracelet decorated the tip. It wore a Chihuahua-sized leather jacket hemped with rhinestones. Around the neck was a crimson red bandana, almost covering the collar.

So a Goth chick and a biker cat?

What now?

"And may I ask your name?" Desmond was sucking up to this new girl.

"My name's Night," she scowled at him, "As in 'Night of No Werewolf Moon'."

She threw her head back and howled exactly like a true wolf. The music stopped and everyone stared at her.

"And this is Crystal," she muttered, stroking the cat on her neck. The music started again and everyone acted like noting happened. "You don't know me, but my friend, Delilah, sent me here because she herself couldn't come. I love raves and I couldn't resist, even with nobody I knew."

"So you're a good friend of Dare?" Des smiled.

She flipped her hair back in a flirt and grinned, "Hell yeah; could you let me in now please?"

"Gladly. My name's Desmond Porter. Welcome to my pad. I love your kitten."

"Glad to be here."

The cat hopped off her shoulder and explored a little bit. Great, I actually thought that Dare would come over herself but she just sent a femme Desmond.

The cat jumped on my bed and sat next to me, blinking once, twice.

"Go away, Crystal," I said.

She purred and rubbed against my shoulder. I shoved her away by the chest and tried to read some more.

Crystal bounded back and rolled onto my textbook.

"Oi! Get the HELL out of my sight!"

"Crissy! Come!"

The cat jumped from my book and slithered up Night's arm. "Are you hurting my little angel?" she demanded. Crystal glared at me.

"Well, ya know what?" I exploded, "I'M just trying to fucking STUDY here! But your cat keeps ANNOYING ME! And-"

"Dude shut up, don't make a scene," she whispered to me, sitting on my bed.

"Get off my bed, whore," I grumbled.

She didn't move. "Do you know who I am?" she asked.

"No, but I'm guessing you're a rave girl, huh?"

"You know Delilah?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Sooooooo..." She put her arm on my shoulder, "Hi Izm."

"How the hell do you know me?" I widened my eyes at her.

"Have you still not gotten it yet, doofus?" she replied sweetly.

"Really, who are you?"

She unzipped her jacket and rolled down her right sleeve. The strange lump was actually layers of bandages. "Need I say more, kid?"

It was Delilah.

"Dare?" I whispered, "Why are you dressed like that? Whose cat is that? What in THE HELL did you do to your hair?"

She zipped her jacket. "One, I'm dressed like this so no one would recognize me. Two, this is Calli, remember her? I just temporarily spruced up her fur; I'll give her a bath later. And three, it's a wig."

"Oh," I closed the textbook and moved it to the side. "Well you do look pretty damn stunning and sexy."

She brushed her fake hair. "Thanks," she said, "But you're not getting laid tonight."

Ummm...

That wasn't what I was aiming for.

Was it?

But she's hot.

"Uh, I like your skirt!" I fail at starting a conversation in a position like this.

"Thank you; this is actually a vampire costume that I modified."

"And Calli?" I wrapped my arm across her shoulder.

"I spray painted her fur just for tonight."

"The tail?"

Her eyes narrowed. "This isn't real," she confessed, stroking the tip, "It's animatronic; it moves on its own."

"Where'd you get it?"

Dare was about to answer, but Desmond came from nowhere and grabbed her shoulder. "Yo! C'mon Night! This is a party; get out and dance!"

"I don't dance," she growled back at him.

He ignored that and yanked her away by the arm. "Well, don't bother my roommate; he's an asshole sometimes."

Oh yeah, THANKS Des!

I pulled out my textbook again, pretending to study, but secretly eavesdropping on 'Night' and Desmond.

"So," she said, "Can you sing?"

"Are you kidding?" he demanded, "Nobody sings anymore! And I'm not listening to a remix of GaGa, girl."

"Well nobody asked you," she snapped.

She walked away and kicked down a speaker. Des raised his eyebrows.

"You idiots call this music?" Night yelled. "Yo! Someone throw me a mike! I'll show ya how to rock!"

She used the kicked down speaker kind of like a stage. She grabbed a microphone that was thrown to her.

"DJ!" She called for his attention, "Throw on something Avril Lavinge, would ya, baby?"

The intro to The Best Damn Thing played.