The Davenport Mansion wasn't just a house.
It was a palace disguised as suburban real estate.
The second Amy stepped inside, she was swallowed by flashing lights, pounding bass, and the overwhelming smell of perfume, chips, and teenage ambition. A chandelier bigger than her entire dorm room sparkled above the crowd, glittering as though to say: yes, peasants, you don't belong here.
Amy's heart thundered in her chest. She had actually made it. She was here. The forbidden, exclusive, only-the-cool-kids-allowed senior party.
Sarah would have said she'd survive five minutes, tops. Amy mentally declared she'd last the whole night.
"Impressed?" Ethan asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music.
Amy tried to play it cool, casually flipping her hair. "Eh, I've seen better."
Then the chandelier flickered like something out of The Great Gatsby and a group of seniors started a synchronized TikTok dance in front of the marble fireplace.
Amy's jaw dropped. "Okay, I've never seen better."
Ethan laughed, handing her a cup of soda. "You'll get used to it."
"Used to it? Ethan, this is like… like High School Musical if it was directed by Beyoncé!" Amy exclaimed, nearly spilling her drink.
He shook his head with a smile. "You're something else, Locker Inspector."
Amy froze, heart skipping. Was that… flirty? Did he just—
Before she could process, a shrill voice cut through the music.
"Well, well. If it isn't Amy Greene."
Amy turned slowly. And there she was. Chloe Davenport. The queen herself, shimmering in gold sequins, standing with her entourage like she was hosting the Met Gala.
Chloe's smirk was enough to send freshmen into hiding. "How interesting to see you here. I don't recall your name on the guest list."
Amy's brain screamed: lie, Amy, lie like your future depends on it.
Out loud, she said with absolute confidence: "I was personally invited… by the chandelier."
Silence. A beat of confusion. Then Ethan snorted into his drink. A couple of seniors laughed nervously. Chloe's smile tightened, like she wanted to strangle Amy with a diamond necklace.
"Well," Chloe said coolly, "enjoy the party. While it lasts." She glided away, heels clicking like an evil Disney villain.
Amy blew out a breath, clutching her chest. "Okay. Not my smoothest line. But at least I didn't trip over the champagne fountain."
"Give it time," Ethan teased.
Amy groaned.
For the next half-hour, she tried desperately to blend in. Which, in Amy terms, meant doing the exact opposite.
She attempted to dance but ended up elbowing a sophomore in the ribs. She tried mingling with Chloe's glittery entourage but spilled nachos on someone's designer heels. And when a group of guys started a beer-pong game, Amy shouted, "I volunteer as tribute!" and somehow managed to knock the table over before the first round.
By the time she collapsed on the leather couch, she was sweating, out of breath, and fairly certain Chloe was plotting her social execution.
Ethan sat beside her, still laughing. "You really don't do subtle, do you?"
Amy covered her face. "Subtle is overrated." She peeked at him through her fingers. "I made a total fool of myself, didn't I?"
He grinned. "Yeah. But… you're kind of fun."
Amy blinked. Fun. Not a disaster. Not embarrassing. Fun.
Before she could respond, the chandelier above them flickered again—and then with a loud POP, the lights went out. Screams filled the room. Music cut. Darkness swallowed everything.
And in the middle of chaos, someone whispered near Amy's ear:
"This is your fault, Greene."
Amy froze. She didn't recognize the voice. But one thing was certain—her night had just gone from awkward comedy… to something else entirely.
******************
The Davenport mansion plunged into complete darkness.
Screams, squeals, and the sound of chips crunching under panicked sneakers filled the air. Someone shouted, "It's haunted!" Another yelled, "Save the cheese dip!"
Amy Greene, of course, was stuck in the middle of it all.
"This is fine," she whispered to herself, clutching the armrest of the leather couch. "I always wanted to experience a glamorous party blackout. It's very… cinematic."
"Greene," the mysterious voice hissed again in the dark. "I know this is your fault."
Amy whipped her head around. "Excuse me? I don't even know where the circuit breaker is. I'm barely qualified to operate a toaster!"
No answer. Just the sound of footsteps vanishing into the chaos.
Before Amy could panic, a phone flashlight clicked on beside her face, blinding her.
"Relax," Ethan's voice said warmly. "It's just a power cut. Probably too many ring lights plugged in at once."
Amy blinked against the light. "Oh thank god. For a second, I thought I was about to be assassinated. By Chloe. With a curling iron."
Ethan chuckled, offering his hand. "Come on, let's get out of this mess before the stampede crushes us."
Amy took his hand—only to immediately trip over someone's purse and nearly drag him down with her.
"Graceful," Ethan teased, pulling her back up.
"I meant to do that," Amy muttered.
They navigated through the chaos together. Amy caught snippets of frantic conversations:
"Where's the Wi-Fi?"
"Is the karaoke machine dead?!"
"Don't tell me my TikTok draft is gone…"
Clearly, the blackout was a tragedy of modern proportions.
Finally, Ethan led her out to the mansion's backyard, where fairy lights still twinkled. The night air was cool, calm—the total opposite of the chaos inside.
For a moment, Amy just stood there, catching her breath. "So… does this mean the party's over?"
Ethan leaned against the railing. "Depends. Are you the type to give up after one blackout?"
Amy squared her shoulders, pretending she hadn't nearly had a meltdown five minutes earlier. "Please. Amy Greene doesn't give up. Amy Greene… improvises."
"Is that what you call knocking over the beer-pong table?" Ethan asked, smirking.
She pointed at him dramatically. "That was a statement. A protest against the objectification of ping-pong balls."
Ethan laughed, shaking his head. And just like that, Amy felt a tiny thrill of victory. She hadn't ruined everything. Not yet.
But her victory was short-lived.
Because just then, Chloe Davenport swept out onto the patio, her golden dress glittering even in the dim lights. Her entourage trailed behind like backup dancers.
"Oh, there you are," Chloe purred, eyes narrowing at Amy. "Enjoying the party, Greene? Because I think it's time we discuss what happens to people who crash where they don't belong."
Amy froze. Ethan straightened. A crowd of curious seniors started gathering.
And Amy Greene knew—this was it. The showdown.
Senior year wasn't just going to be dramatic.
It was going to be war.