Matt Wells lived on the good side of town, at the edge of Oakley Woods.
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Becky and I arrived late and entered the party like we were movie stars entering a premiere. Or rather I did.
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Poor Becky hung tightly to my side like she was visiting the dentist.
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"It'll be okay," I reassured her.
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"It's a party!" But I knew why she was nervous. We were subjecting ourselves to ridicule when we could have been safely at home watching TV like Trevor said. But why should the snobs have all the fun? Just because Matt's bedroom was the size of my living room? Just because we didn't wear clothes that were "in"? So that meant I should sit home on my sixteenth birthday?
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I felt like Moses parting the Red Sea, as a crowd of snobs dispersed from the hallway upon our entry. Our classmates eyeballed me, decked out in my usual Gothic garb. Too bad Tommy Hilfiger wasn't there. He'd have been flattered. Everyone was wearing his clothes like a school uniform. The sound of Aerosmith rocked throughout Matt's living room. A thick layer of smoke hung above the couches, and the smell of beer permeated the air like cheap incense. Couples who weren't staring disapprovingly at us were staring adoringly at each other. It was going to be useless to try to talk to anyone.
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"I can't believe you showed up," Matt said, spotting us in the hallway.
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"I'd take a picture, but I don't know if you'd be visible!" Yet despite his bark, Matt wasn't as cruel as Trevor.
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"Beers are out back," he then said. "Want me to show you the way?"
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Becky was in awe of Matt. She shook her head and locked herself in the hallway bathroom. Matt laughed and headed for the kitchen.