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J U N E  2 0 2 1

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J U N E  2 0 2 1

──・・𖥸・・──

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Also known as "Murder Beach", "Dirty Myrtle", and "The Redneck Riviera." All deeply unpleasant names for the city I've lived in my entire life. It's not the purity capital of the world, but people shit on it more than it deserves. But I do agree with them on one front: misery finds her home here. At least, that's my opinion.

I glance up at the clock on the wall. Five more minutes until my third year of college officially comes to a close. Five more minutes until two and a half months of summer. Five more minutes until I step into the unknown. Things that are uncertain scare me. They used to excite me.

Tic. Tic. Tic.

Three minutes until I'm forced to comply with whatever plans Selene forces me into.

Tic. Tic. Tic.

One minute until I'm one year closer to getting out of this place. I think I'd like to move to a different city. Maybe a different state.

Tic. Tic. Tic.

"Have a great summer!" My professor exclaims.

Everyone grabs their things, but none of them are out of the door faster than I am. I want nothing more than to curl up in bed and hibernate for the entire break, but my darling roommate would rather die than allow that. The thought is nice, I just wish she'd consider my feelings more often when she plans things. A little input would be nice.

The people around me buzz with their summer plans, how they intend to visit family, and all the parties they'll attend. All I can hope is that it'll be another boring summer. Quiet is what I need and crave. Maybe if I can make myself look sicker than usual, Selene will go easy on me.

Please. That's wishful thinking. That girl would party with pneumonia, and I'm sure she's done so before.

As if on cue, Selene runs over to me, her sand-colored hair sticking out at odd angles. "Dove!"

She clasps my hands between hers as she bounces up and down, excitement radiating off of her. "Yes?"

"It's summer! Why aren't you celebrating?" she asks. "This is going to be the best summer, I feel it in my bones."

"You've said that for the past two years," I point out.

"Third times the charm, silly. And this time I know it for sure."

We begin to make our way to the parking lot where Selene's jeep rests, waiting for us to climb in and turn it on. "What makes this year so different?"

"Well, there's this party on the beach—"

I groan. "I already don't like the sound of this."

"You haven't even heard who's throwing it yet!" she exclaims.

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