Mikaela slumped against the wall, her mane of curls falling over her like a shield. The cigarette between her fingers burned dully on, no longer the focus of her attention. People chattered mindlessly from the other room.

I give up, she decided. No more pretending to be interested in all the future soccer moms and trust-fund kids. It was obvious that she had no place among them; nor had she ever. The contrast between Mikaela and the others was glaringly obvious, almost embarrassing. How could he possibly want to be here?

No use in sticking around. She stood up slowly and ground the cigarette under the heel of her shoe. Running a hand through her hair, she made her way back to the main room.

Briefly, she considered finding him. Let’s get out of here, she would say. We have better places to be. But he was laughing and she was so, so out of place, so she left without another word.