Just Tourists ✔️

The air crackled with the false cheer of graduation day. I'd just endured three hours of stifling formality in an uncomfortable dress and heels, all for a piece of paper that felt less like a milestone and more like a flimsy cover. "Please do not tell me you're wearing that to the party?" Blaire, my best friend and fellow weapon enthusiast, asked, her voice laced with incredulity as she pointed at my chosen outfit: jeans and a crop top.
I glared at her, crossing my arms. "What? I just stood out there in the sun for three hours for a diploma. If I want to wear jeans and a crop top to a stupid party, I will." Blaire rolled her eyes, but I knew she understood. After years of posing as cheerleaders, pretending to care about gossip and school spirit, the idea of another party was exhausting. At least, after tonight, it would all be over. Or so I hoped.
