P.S. I Loathe You.

The next few weeks wasn't even real. I could swear that my internal clock adjusted to the same as everybody else's, and the original 'breakfast' time - seven in the morning 'till eleven, was scrapped, replaced with a more flexible ten in the morning until twelve brunch hours. I slept in, usually, and took up the late night shifts - and threw out the Prada top - coffee and organic cotton did not like each other. Instead, I opted for black shirt, black loose-fitting sweats and a crappy tent-supplied apron. Attractive? Hardly. But it kept me clean, and that was what I needed. To stay clean and sane.

I didn't see much of the people at the party after it had happened - I saw a glimpse of a smirking Peter and an awkward, shuffling Patrick a few times, but I had heard that a bunch of people who had been at the party were fired for doing illegal substances. Ick. I was not a fan of needles, or snorting shit up my nose. Just because I was rich didn't mean I liked to do illegal crap.

Hell, I hardly ever skipped a yellow light.

Anyways, the next stop was somewhere in the Midwest - and I was about to melt off my ass. It was a hundred degrees, and adding that with the lack of air conditioning and sweaty bodies and people eating greasy fried food made for grossness - but somehow, Taylor had found out that the local pool stayed open until midnight today.

Guess where me, her, Pete and Patrick, and a bunch of other kids were headed.

I dressed simple - embellishment or doing my hair would be a waste since I'd probably get dunked in the pool by somebody. A red bikini, and shorts as cover-ups was shoved into a cheap plastic bag, not wanting to ruin a perfectly good Dior bag or anything, so I could change later. Everybody piled into a tiny van somebody had rented, and with three cases of beer in the back, we set off for the pool.

--

The water was cold. And it felt good to have clean water against my skin, as I dived in perfectly. Thank you, summers spent in the Hamptons. A bunch of drunk boys clapped as I rose to the surface as other random kids tried to copy me. Patrick was standing in the corner, t-shirt and shorts still on. He shuffled his feet, looking a little out of place. Huh.

I swam to the edge, and clambered out, water pouring off my skin. I'd really need to jack someone's shampoo and wash my hair, I thought, feeling at my slightly greasy hair. Sliding over to his feet, I poked his leg.

"Why aren't you in there?" I asked, casually watching Pete do a cannonball and splash a bunch of girls who were trying to preserve their hair, causing screams of "Jackass!" to echo through the pool.

"I don't really... Swim." Patrick replied, taking off his glasses and wiping the lens on the edge of his dirty shirt. "It's not that I don't know how to, I just don't." he managed, shuffling his feet again.

There was a quiet silence - then a little 'ping' in my brain as an idea flashed.

"I dare you to dive into the pool with me."

"What?!"

"I'll do it too, come on." I got up to my feet and grasped Patrick's protesting, flailing arm, as people started to notice. I finally tugged him to the edge of the pool - and he looked terrified.

"Can I at least take off my glasses?"

"I'm gonna count to three, and by three, we're gonna jump in. Together."

"Does that mean no?"

"One..." Pete started cheering.

"Two..." Patrick started counting nervously with me, and a bunch of kids started cheering along as well.

"Three!"

I leaped, tugging Patrick as well - and for a fraction of a second, I was weightless. Floating through the air, I looked back to see that Patrick had jumped as well, and he looked terrified - yet excited.

Then we landed in the water at the same time - a wave of cold air, then the icy water touching my skin, wrapping me in the cold embrace.

He'd done it.