The road to Nicole Nuñez's house glowed in the dusk — long, gold-paved stretches that hummed with music and laughter spilling from open car windows. It was the last Saturday before school resumed, and the air itself seemed to shimmer with something bittersweet: the kind of anticipation that belongs only to endings disguised as beginnings.
Dave, Leah, Cierra, Amara, Paul, Diane, and Chad arrived in a single, crowded minivan, shedding their sand-dusted clothes for party gear. Dave drove, one arm hanging loosely out the window, the other steady on the wheel. The low rumble of the car's engine mixed with the rhythmic thump of a summer playlist, the bass vibrating through the seats. Leah sat in the passenger seat beside him, her hand lazily tracing circles on his arm as she scrolled through her phone. Her golden hair caught the light from the street lamps, flickering like fire.
In the back seat, Chad had his feet kicked up between Cierra and Diane, a half-finished soda can balanced precariously on his knee. Paul was squeezed in the middle seat, holding it together with the patience of someone who'd long accepted his role as designated tagalong. Amara sat by the window, her cheek against the glass, lost in her own reflection.
They were seven shadows in motion — the golden ones, the beautiful ones, the complicated ones.
"You think Nicole actually got her parents to let her throw the party this time?" Chad asked over the music, his voice easy and amused.
"Please," Leah replied, eyes still on her phone. "Her parents haven't been home since probably Easter."
That earned a round of laughter, even from Dave, who reached forward to turn up the volume as a new song kicked in. The sound filled the car, bright and nostalgic. The kind of music that made the world feel endless for one more night.
Cierra smiled faintly, her fingers drumming along the window. Amara caught the movement in the corner of her eye — the faint curve of Cierra's lips, the effortless way her hair framed her face — and quickly looked away before anyone noticed.
Beside her, Paul adjusted his glasses.
"I heard Darcy Williams is bringing that sound system from last year's Halloween party," he said, half to no one, half to Diane.
Diane didn't look up.
"Cool." Her tone was light, but her mind was elsewhere — flickering through thoughts of Leah Monroe and her perfect figure and how unfair it all was. She'd spent hours getting ready. Waterproof mascara, lip tint that left a natural soft pigment, concealer applied inconspicuously on her face. She'd even bought new lip gloss. And yet, she knew the moment they stepped out of the car, Leah would glow brighter than anyone else.
When the car turned down Nicole's street, the glow of string lights came into view first — gold and pink, looping from palm to palm across the front yard. The music pulsed from somewhere behind the house, the deep throb of bass that promised a night meant to be remembered, if not for the right reasons.
"Showtime," Chad said with a grin, straightening his shirt.
Leah caught his reflection in the side mirror. "Don't embarrass yourself, Rivers."
"I don't embarrass easily."
"Then you're lucky," Cierra murmured, brushing her hair back as the car slowed.
When they pulled up to the curb, Nicole's driveway was already overflowing with cars — convertibles, borrowed sedans, and the one old minivan everyone recognized as belonging to Derrick Portman's mom. Laughter and shouting carried across the lawn, mingling with the scent of chlorine and summer perfume.
They climbed out one by one. Leah adjusted her cover-up, tugging the knot tighter at her hip. The sequined fabric caught the porch light, and when she shrugged it off, the group collectively paused. Her bikini — a shimmering pastel set with gold accents — was designed to be photographed. Compliments followed her like perfume.
"Damn, Leah," Chad said, mock-whistling. "You trying to make the rest of us look bad?"
"Mission accomplished," Dave said, his tone half-teasing, half-adoring.
Leah smiled, basking in it. Diane stood a few steps behind, her red hair gleaming against her pale skin, her emerald bikini carefully chosen yet already forgotten in Leah's glow. Her jaw tightened slightly, but she smiled anyway.
Nicole herself appeared at the doorway, drink in hand, wearing a glittery wrap that looked like she'd stolen it from a music video.
"My favourite people!" she called. "Get in here before the ice melts!"
"Don't mind if we do," Chad said, already striding past her.
Paul followed quietly, muttering a quick thanks as Nicole handed him a cup. Amara and Cierra lagged behind, walking side by side. Their shoulders brushed briefly — a casual touch that felt anything but.
"Hey," Amara said softly. "You look really nice tonight."
Cierra smiled, surprised by the warmth in her chest. "Thanks. You too."
The night began like that — perfect and unsteady.