Chapter Ten...
981 Words
The moment Paloma and Kenya stepped into the party, Paloma’s eyes widened in awe. The yard was massive—lit with vibrant lights, pulsing with loud music, and filled with young adults dancing, laughing, and living wildly. Girls and boys moved to the beat, some tangled together on the dance floor, others splashing in the pool. The atmosphere felt electric, reckless, alive. It was the kind of party Paloma had only seen in movies—the kind she’d secretly dreamed about attending.
“This is insane,” Kenya said, nudging her with a bright grin. “I mean, look at this place! It’s a shame you couldn’t wear the other gown, but honestly? This one looks amazing on you. It suits your vibe better.”
Paloma smiled, grateful for Kenya’s words, even though a part of her still longed to be bolder. Kenya offered to get them drinks and told Paloma to wait at the couch. But standing still in this kind of place? Impossible. The energy tugged at her like a magnet. She couldn’t resist taking it all in.
She moved toward the couch, her eyes darting from the dancing bodies to the extravagant lights, when she accidentally bumped into someone. The girl turned sharply, and Paloma’s breath caught.
Diane.
The look on Diane’s face morphed from surprise to barely restrained fury. Her eyes narrowed, her lips curled in distaste. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Paloma smirked, unbothered. “I was invited. Obviously.”
Diane scoffed. “Just because you're popular now doesn’t mean it'll last. That little streak of fame? It’ll slip through your fingers before you even notice.”
Paloma’s eyes flashed. “Jealous that I stole your spotlight?” she said coolly. “The people love me more than you. Even your minions.”
Diane’s nostrils flared. “I will get my place back,” she hissed. “Watch your back.”
Paloma simply waved at her, amused. That only fueled Diane’s anger as she turned and stormed off into the crowd.
But Paloma barely had time to savor the moment before another voice called out behind her.
“No way. Dork? What are you doing here?”
She groaned internally. Of course. Cameron.
She turned, arms crossed. “What now?”
He grinned, his friends snickering around him. “Didn’t think you were the party type. Thought you were more of a ‘miss nerdy-pants’ kind of girl. You know—freaking genius, always studying.”
Paloma rolled her eyes. She was used to his teasing, but something about it tonight grated harder than usual.
Cameron’s gaze swept over her and he let out a mocking laugh. “You dressed like a fourteen-year-old. What, did your dad pick out your outfit?”
Heat rushed to Paloma’s face—not from embarrassment, but from pure rage. She glanced around. Most of the girls were wearing bold, flashy outfits—tight skirts, glitter, heels. She looked down at her own blue dress and cropped sweater, suddenly feeling like a child at an adult’s table.
Without a word, she turned and walked away. Laughter followed her, but she didn’t look back. Cameron had always been a jerk, but he was so much worse when his friends were watching.
A moment later, Kenya returned with two cups and plopped beside her on the couch. “Cheers,” she said, handing one over. “This party is wild.”
Paloma clinked her cup with hers and took a sip. The alcohol burned a little, but she welcomed the warmth spreading through her chest.
Across the lawn, the birthday boy—Jake—was openly eyeing Kenya, checking her out with an appreciative smirk.
Paloma elbowed her. “Go talk to him.”
Kenya hesitated. “What? No. I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“I’m fine,” Paloma insisted with a grin. “Go. He’s cute. Go make your move.”
Kenya bit her lip, then shrugged and stood. “Okay, okay—but I’m checking in soon!”
Paloma nodded as her friend made her way toward Jake. She wandered off on her own, eventually settling near a tall coconut tree overlooking the pool. The music thumped behind her, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere. She wanted to feel like she belonged here. This was the kind of night she used to fantasize about when she was stuck inside textbooks and routines. So why did she suddenly feel so… shy?
“Not gonna swim?” a voice said behind her.
She tensed.
Cameron.
Again.
She turned just enough to give him a withering look. “Why do you keep bothering me?”
He chuckled. “Just curious. Maybe your swimsuit’s all childish and pink or something.”
“Back off,” she snapped. “Mind your own business.”
He stepped closer and grabbed her wrist—not roughly, but firm enough to make her uncomfortable. “You don’t have to be like this, you know. I was just messing around.”
“You started it,” she said sharply. “You could’ve just been nice.”
“I was being nice. You’re the one acting like a—”
“Let me go,” she interrupted.
But he didn’t. His grip tightened, and Paloma yanked her hand, trying to get free. In the struggle, she stumbled back—her foot caught on a rock.
Her balance tipped.
Then—splash.
She fell hard into the pool, striking her head against something solid on the way down.
Cameron stood at the edge, unfazed, watching with a smirk. “Told you… should’ve just listened.”
At first, the crowd laughed.
But then she didn’t come up.
Seconds passed. Laughter faded. Confused whispers started swirling.
“Wait—where is she?”
“Is she joking?”
A trail of red floated to the surface.
And then, silence.
- Writer
