The crunching of leaves alerted the fauna of the forest that the rambunctious group of always-drunk never-older teenagers that seemed to have endless supplies and means to get what they want. Who was the leader of this pack, a lit cigarrett in her pale hand? Veronica, or Vici as she was more commonly known to the group and around the school. She had no need to be the "queen bee", but she was the puppet master and these were her marionettes, Her life beforehand taught her that it is better to be the player than be the one who is played on the stage as a comedy act.
Veronica plopped down on her normal stump, taking a long drag as the others filed in, lighting the fire pit with a single spark of her deadly addiction. She leaned back, puffing out a circle of smoke as she surveyed the jocks, the preps, the all-too-perfect people crushing beers like they were the last drink on earth. Such wastes of space made her ill, but they really were her favorite toys to play with.
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