I almost freak to death when I go through my daily planner in the morning. I have a party to attend tonight!
All the opening ups and weird booktalks with Greek gods have made this major detail slide under.
I now wish I refused Miley. Why do I care if she hates me anyway? She probably wouldn't even notice my absence with all the alcohol in her system.
I suddenly have this brilliant idea that I will make an excuse and ditch this party. I will only have to apologize to Miley if she finds out I didn't go, the chances of which are very slim.
Bella shouts at me the moment she sees me in the kitchen, "Someone's got a party tonight!" She has this morning charm thing that makes her dance out of bed. And I hate it for the first time.
"You always do Bella," I respond as casually as I can manage,
