Annabel Lee ─ emily prentiss

twenty-seven

TONIGHT Bel was bringing Penelope's vision to life, wearing her new shirt, bootcut jeans, and bright red lipstick. When she looked at herself in the mirror, all dressed up, lips painted fire engine red, she felt surprisingly confident. This look was like armor, protecting her from her own social anxiety. She actually hadn't been anxious at all until Emily gave her an unnerving speech about party safety.

"No alcohol," Emily began, pacing the living room while Bel sat on the couch. "Don't drink anything that's not out of a sealed bottle. Never leave your drink unattended. Anything can be drugged, even water. Don't go off with anyone you don't know, especially if you ignore me and get drunk anyway. When you want to leave, call me, and I'll pick you up. I don't want you getting in a car with some drunk teenager. Be the smart kid I know that you are and stay out of trouble."

"Stay out of trouble, kid," Emily repeated as Bel climbed out of the car in front of Isla's massive house. She saw two cars in the driveway that hopefully belonged to this girl's parents. "I'll come get you whenever you want to leave."

"Eleven-thirty at the latest." Bel nodded. "I know."

"And have fun."

Holding a tiny purple gift bag, Bel jogged up the front path and rang the doorbell. A woman several years older than Emily, presumably Isla's mom, answered. The house was empty the last time Bel was there (which Emily did not know).

"Here for Isla's party, I assume?" she said. Bel nodded. "Follow me."

Bel followed the woman into the house. She could immediately hear the muffled sound of loud music coming from beneath their feet. The floor was vibrating.

"I'm Alissa, Isla's mom." Alissa opened a door in a long hallway. The blaring music hit Bel like a brick wall. "I hope you brought earplugs."

The door closed behind Bel as she ambled down the basement stairs, hoping she wouldn't leave this party with tinnitus. Isla had a thing for 90s boy bands—and a Backstreet Boys Never Gone Tour t-shirt to prove it—so *NSYNC was playing on full blast. As soon as Bel set foot in the indeed rather large basement, full of maybe 25 people, Isla barreled into her, giving her a big hug.

"You made it!" Isla was definitely buzzed. She was always bubbly and outgoing, but she seemed especially loose tonight. Her breath also smelled like alcohol. "We were wondering where you were. Welcome to the party! Food and drinks are over there."

She pointed to a table with a plastic purple tablecloth covered in an array of snacks, bottled sodas and waters, and, as promised, a punch bowl full of red liquid.

"Cool. This is for you." Bel held up the little gift bag. Isla took it from her. She'd gotten a Blockbuster gift card because Isla and her boyfriend Ryan were big into movies. Fittingly, there was a very, very large flat screen TV across from the four-person couch seven kids had crammed themselves onto.

"Thank you!"

Another boy came downstairs, and Isla flitted off to greet him. Bel inspected the refreshments table. When she bent over the punch bowl, she caught a whiff of alcohol so strong she nearly gagged.

"Jesus." She forwent refreshments and sat down on the floor next to her friend Freyja. "Hey."

"Hey!" Freyja also seemed to have had a glass of whatever the hell was in that bowl, because she too was more loose than usual. She sat with her legs stretched out on the carpet, leaning back on her hands. "Did you grab a drink?" She held up a plastic purple cup—purple seemed to be the theme of the party. "It's vodka fruit punch."

"I'll pass." Bel wrinkled her nose. Freyja shrugged and took another sip. The rim of the cup was smudged with black lipstick. "How long have you been here?"