Has to Be Love
“Too many cars, streetlights, stoplights, store lights … Lachelle’s hair is up in one of those messy updos that makes her look like she tossed her hair together, when in reality it took her like twenty minutes. Mine hangs straight around my face, and I tug my bangs forward again. Smooth my lips together. They’re used to ChapStick, and the gloss feels thick and sticky.
“They’re up here.” We push through a door into another narrow hallway.
Nerves dance through me. Will I stand out as the high-school kid? The scarred girl? Will I manage to fit in? Please let me blend enough so I don’t feel like an imposter.
After what feels like seconds while my feet just keep moving forward, Lachelle’s dragging me through a door and into a room that’s filled, but not packed with people. Cigarette smoke burns my nose, but it’s not so thick it’s hard to breathe.
“I’m Edgar and your host.” A guy yells over the pounding music. His shoulder-length brown hair falls forward as he does a mock bow.
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