I walk to the soda table, setting my empty cup down and reaching for an almost-empty bag of barbecue chips. I reach my hand into the bag and pull out the broken pieces of chips that are left, putting them quickly into my mouth and then licking my fingers. I turn and see Russel pull out his phone. I smile, watching him. At first Russel just seemed annoying, but the guy's actually pretty entertaining. I turn away, walking to the kitchen to wash my now-sticky fingers, leaving my cup on the table along with many others-all waiting to find out if they will be picked up. Also wondering if when they are picked up, they will be carried away by their previous owner or someone who took the wrong cup, spreading bacteria throughout the party-goers.
"Hey," Thomas says, walking up from behind me. I turn, startled, and smile. "Hi. Again." He looks nervous, "Um, I have to go...take care of something. Do you think you could, uh, make sure...nothing gets, you know, broken, or anything, while I'm gone?" Thomas seems really worried. I nod, "Yea. Of course. No problem." He smiles, "Thanks, Venice. See you soon." He turns and walks quickly toward the front door, slamming it behind him. I turn and look at all the people, slightly proud that Thomas left the place in my care. Of course, it's not like there's anyone else he could really entrust the place to...except Laylee, of course, but she's one of those people that come and go as they like. "Hey, Venice," a slick, deep, liquid-y voice says from behind me. I turn to see Marley behind me. She's wearing a U-neck deep blue short sleeve top and tight True Religion jeans with slingback black heels. A large dark green stone on a thick black leather string rests on her chest, the hook of the necklace showing by her collarbone. Her dark hair swiftly surrounds her shoulders, and she has thick mascara and dark eyeliner around her dark green eyes. She smiles slickly, and I notice the bags under her eyes, sloppily disguised by foundation. Marley has late nights: I've lived next to her since I was four, and we both have large yards, (not unlike everyone else in the area,) but our houses are close enough to hear the yelling that goes on in hers every night. When Marley and I were in seventh grade, I was up in my room, looking at the stars, when I saw her run out of her house, slamming the door. She ran over to a big oak in front of her house. Something told me to go out to her, so I walked down the stairs and out of my house, closing the front door quietly and tip-toeing down the creaky stairs in my front porch. I hopped the short fence between our front yards and walked up behind her. I heard her sobs and short breaths, and for some reason, I just dropped down next to her and put my arms around her. She turned her head slightly, saw that it was me, and cried in my arms for a good hour. I took her to my house that night and she slept in my room. She didn't say anything about what had happened to her, and in the morning she thanked me and went home. We didn't suddenly become friends, hanging out at school and sharing shoes. She didn't come over to me and thank me in the hallway. Instead, we just kind of eased up on each other. Before that incident, we had just kind of ignored each other's existence, each slightly resenting each other- me resenting her wealth, friends, and looks, and her resenting, I guessed, my family and fearlessness, not worrying what anybody thought about me and not feeling alone when I sat by myself at lunch everyday. So we just kind of smiled at each other every once in a while, talked occasionally during class-just acted more comfortable with each other. "Hey, Mar," I say, smiling sadly at her. I can't seem to look at her without hearing the yelling, seeing the tears that had dripped down her face so long ago. "So," she says, smiling, "how are you?" She looks toward the front door, "You dating the slacker?" she smiles. It's funny to me how even Marley, Erica, and their friends resent Thomas- despite the fact that they themselves are slackers, if not quite so much as Thomas. "No," I say, laughing slightly, "definitely not." She raises and eyebrow, "Unfortunately?" she asks, and I laugh again, nodding, "Yea. Unfortunately." Marley can read me like a book with a magnifying glass over the words.
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