Chapter Text
The glasses shown around, bouncing light off the pearls, beads and other shiny things. It blinded anyone who could stare long enough. Unfortunately, Sam's dress had plenty off of those shiny things, even if it was black. She shifted in the dress, not wanting to even remember what she looked like today. The only thing she chose on her was the color of her dress. The rest was all courtesy of her mother, and the club's rules. So gone was her hair of choice. Instead, extensions were fastened into her, and her hair was curled, sprayed and quaffed to the point where she could feel the dead weight on her scalp. She had the feeling that the makeup was even worse.
"I want her to look like a doe, a fresh, pretty girl. Nothing too dark. The dress is enough," Sam remembered her mother's words, and the way the makeup artist went at her face. The agreement she had with her mother was enough to be the ropes tying her to the makeup chair. What was she there for, an hour before she got done? Fuck! Even Paulina, who wanted her to look as bad as possible during the pageant, took less time than this lady! And of course, the woman pleased the hell out of her mom and made her look like the next Miss Amity Park. Great. Now she had beauty pageants stuck in her mind when she thought about her face right now. And another beauty competition was the last thing she wanted to be a part of.
On second thought, maybe being taken hostage by a crazy dragon prince might've been an upgrade. At least that was exciting, and she got to raise hell until Danny came to get her. But despite the lack of ghosts, the place couldn't have been deader. No wonder her parents insisted she went. Insisted, and threatened to reinstate the restraining order. So here she was, at Amity Park's Beauties Of Refinement Event. And that's exactly what it was: a BORE. Sam sighed. At least she couldn't see anyone from her school here so far. None of these people even looked like they were from Amity Park. Not that she cared about seeing any of them as herself, but that would mean there was proof that she was dressed like this.
The quartet played, music amplified throughout the room as a majority of the other snobby rich kids showed themselves off like trained seals or their girlfriends, boyfriends, siblings, whoever they could get their hands on. The only way it could've been worse is if their parents were there. They'd not only be showing the kids off, they'd be showing themselves off too. Sam went over to the punch bowl, pouring herself more to drink. She took a small taste, disappointed. With what she heard about these kids, she's surprised that the drink hasn't been spiked. Then again, security was kind of tight on the way in - and that was just the normal guys. Seems like they wanted to take extra precautions with all the ghost attacks and ended up even getting some Guys in White agents. At least these guys looked pretty green, and just as bored as she was.
Sam was half tempted to approach them, strike a conversation and talk her way out of here instead of using the secret exits she saw. But no way she'd let herself live that down, especially with what those guys would do, and tried to do, to Danny. No boring party was worth the betrayal. But at least she had her ways All she had to do was give herself a little time so no one noticed she was gone. So with an annoyed sigh, she took a sip from her punch, saccharine with expensive syrup and pretension. Sam turned to go to the darkest corner of the room when she was face to face with a tall guy with Rolex and a smug grin on his face. His blond hair was uncomfortably slicked back and his five o'clock shadow somehow made him worse than it did dashing. And that's who he reminded her of actually. An older, greasier version of Dash. But this guy went past failure. His eyes said it all: I'm a success and I know it. And you'll be my next victory. Sam tried to move past, only to be blocked on either side by him.
"Hello," he smiled, his Chiclet teeth showing underneath smarmy lips.
"Hi." Sam answered curtly as she tried once again to move past him.
"The name's Portland. James Portland. What can I call you other than beautiful?" He asked, taking a gentle hold of Sam's hand.
Sam almost had to laugh, feeling the sense of nausea overcome her just from the vibe of this guy as she pulled her hand away. "Yikes." She excused, only for the guy to not get the message. Shocker.
"I'm offended. Luckily, I'd rather myself than that against you."
If she was just nauseous earlier, she definitely threw up in her mouth now. "Absolutely not. And trust me, this is not a good day." Besides, this guy had to be like, twenty one or something. No way he actually fit under the eighteen year old cut off.
"Well my day's better just seeing you."
"I'm sure it is. But I'm not interested." She said, getting up and turning her back to him as she began to leave. She soon felt a rather firm grip on her arm. "What the hell? Let go." She snapped, pulling her arm away.
"Oh come on, it's a party. Lighten up a little sweetheart." He said, getting a hold of Sam's hand again. "Don't you wanna have a good time?"
"She'd probably be having a much better time if you backed off creep." Sam froze as a higher pitched, slightly accented voice came behind her. No. It couldn't be. There was absolutely no way it could've been. "Didn't you like, shower before you came here or is your hair always that nasty?" She heard again. Sam saw her pink gloves before anything else, but she didn't need to look at her.
Paulina