HEATHERS: THE MUSICAL SENTENCE STARTERS
Veronica Nott was NOT a leader. Popular? Sure. A trendsetter when it came to fashion? Sometimes. But NOT a leader - and so when someone shouted at her to take a DRINK after she had already had one too many for her TINY FRAME? You bet your ass she yelled happily and took the shot that had been offered to her. The liquid BURNED but she only LAUGHED and tossed the plastic shot glass somewhere behind her. Normally she would have CARED about throwing trash onto the ground, but she was simply having too much FUN to think straight. Or walk straight for that matter.
There was nothing more invigorating than a party. The booming bass, the shouting, the jumping, dancing, sweating bodies of party-goers all bumping and writhing against each other... and of course the alcohol. It was filthy. It was disgusting. And it was just his scene.
Nathan didn’t know any of the kids, or even what was being celebrated, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking in. See, being homeless, you got a knack for weaseling your way into places you didn’t belong, all the while pretending that you do -- especially if there was free food to be had.
He mingled, he flirted, and in less than ten minutes he was no longer Nathan Young the crasher, he was simply “Nathan”, that kid you might have known from that one high school, who you might have had that one class with. No one seemed to notice or question his terrible American accent; they were all probably too drunk to care. The cute girl standing in front of him certainly was.
“Whoo, yeah, that’s it, love!” Nathan laughed over the din and tossed back his own shot. “Hey-- ya wanna dance?”
