the reckless & the brave ; cerys

According to a study made online, a youth is arrested for a crime involving drugs every 7 minutes while every 4 minutes, it involves alcohol. What had urged Adelina to research about these statistics? Frankly, she didn't know the answer herself. Was it possibly because her father has had that lifestyle when he was her age? Perhaps it was due to the downfall of society today? It was a sad thing to say that teenagers could acquire drugs and booze easier than becoming the top of their class. Technically, Addy already adapted to that lifestyle and yet, was aware of the grief that came out of it. The sixteen year old's life was a roller coaster that only went up at the moment. Soon, she would be falling.

Contributing to her soon death, she decided to ruin her life even more by sneaking into a club. Getting a fake ID was almost as easy as getting AIDS at a frat party. Besides, why wouldn't she utilize what she had? Tonight, Addy made an effort to look good. You only live once, after all.

Outside the club in downtown Manhattan, she flashed a saccharine-sweet smile to the bouncer as she handed him her fake ID. He shone a flashlight to it before glancing back at the young girl. He returned the grin, handing back her ID. "Have a nice night, Denise."

Choosing her fake name as Denise was a private joke between her and the guy who granted her the ID. They met backstage at a fashion she participated in and he commented that she looked like a young Denise Richards. The boy had tattoos running down the length of his arms and greasy, black hair peeking out of a grey beanie. He may have been a photography by day, but he had a secret identity of making money out of illegal items.

Adelina made her way to the bar, slipping onto a stool as she ordered a fruity cocktail. She may look tough on the outside, but each rebel had to have a weakness. In her case, it was that she was a sucker for girly drinks. When the bartender handed her a triangular shaped glass, she pushed a bill towards him, but he waved it off. Being pretty had its perks sometimes.

Speaking of perks, she reached down to tap her pocket. Her photography friend had, gratefully, provided her with a pack of Marlboro marijuana cigarettes. They were tough to find, but fortunately, connections were something that she had.

As she swirled the drink in its glass, she pondered on what she would do for the rest of the night. Go back to Camp Half-Blood with the stench of alcohol on her lips? No way! Chiron would have her ass hanging by the fireplace at the Big House by dawn. She could stay at Central Park for the rest of the night, smoking until the sun rises, but part of her believed that her night would turn upside down.