Hate for stuffy, fake and formally dressed parties sprouted in me from a young age. Since it was a costume party I was planning to wear a long black hooded cape that could overshadow my face and 'Han fu' (type of traditional Chinese clothing) underneath because it was loose and extremely comfortable and so I don't have to change before I go to bed. I also included a metallic silver mask with gold outlines just incase my hood happens to 'accidentally ' fall off.
One of my mothers maids apparently saw the cape/cloak and reported to my step mother, and being the treacherous scarlet women she was she of course made my life as exceedingly hard as possible. As if forcing me in an embarrassingly revealing sleeveless one piece dress wasn't enough she also confiscated my cloak! Every thing I wore was made by her favourite French designer to 'maintain' our families image. When I politely as a junior of the family asked for my cape to be returned, my step mother snorted with disgust and contempt as she roughly shoved me in the limo along with my luggage before irritatingly reminded me to not loose face (don't shame) for the family.
As she abruptly turned around and trotted off - (not before rudely slamming the door in my face) my lips secretly curled into a smile before returning to its normal state. Once I made sure the witch with a terrible fashion sense left, I reached into one of my suitcases and pulled out my original 'costume' and casually hung it on my arm as if I the Butler with a tea towel.
By the time of my arrival loud music was audible from the gate of the inner campus. It sounded like the ballroom - yes the filthy rich school has a ball room - would explode from the immense power of sound waves any moment.
Once I made my way into the buildings and stood before the beautifully transparent glass door to ballroom I felt the strong oscillation travelling through the ground and entering through the soles of my poor feet tormenting them.
'Hnnn- I really don't want to enter'
Through the glass door the familiar yet strangely foreign image of people dancing from the tango to salsa and suddenly freestyle, talking with plastered smiles around the delicacy filled buffet table really errked me out. But ever more devastating was that there was no where to hide, every corner they were people- everywhere. Suddenly a digesting sweet voice interrupted my train of thoughts.