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“Mr. President! Mr. President! How do you feel about the bonfire being cancelled?”

The soles of Kingsley’s boots crunched on chalky rocks and the back of the heels scuffed against the dips in cracks, causing Kingsley to trip up multiple times in her excitement to keep up with her interviewee. The brunette’s calves burned beneath her brown skinny jeans from walking backwards for so long – well, three minutes wasn’t so long, but Kingsley swore off exercise at the ripe age of ten after tripping in front of the whole class during the mile run.

“Fuck off, Quinn.” Kingsley’s interviewee muttered, but the girl kept her video camera concentrated on his face regardless. 

“Were you one of the seniors setting the party up?” She continued on, eyes wide as she stared at him through her camera. “What are you going to be doing on this wonderful Friday evening without the bonfire party?”

The guy – he wore a sloppy t-shirt with a ketchup stain and had unkempt blond hair – attempted to move her camera away with his hand, but Kingsley vaulted backwards to avoid the greasy thumb from semi-permanently leaving a mark on her lens. When the tall, muscular slob halted in his steps and gave Kingsley a deadpan look – that, thankfully, she caught on tape – Kingsley stopped too and gave a defiant stare at him over the black outline of her camera.

“The bonfire’s been relocated to Beaumont Cove, alright?” He huffed, running his fingers through his corn-stalk locks, unintentionally giving his worst impression of a [i]L’Oréal[/i] commercial. Kingsley smirked at the thought, zooming in on the questionably black crumb entwined in the strands. “Now, will you leave me alone, bitch?”

Kingsley was too slow to react to his words, and by the time she turned around to follow after, he was already halfway down the path to the dormitories. Kingsley let out a long breath, her shoulders relaxing and her calves quivering from the [s]emotional trauma[/s] exercise they just went through.

She wasn’t surprised in the least about the news – of course they would find a loophole around the rule, they always did. Kingsley can just imagine one of them, letterman on and a gross smirk on their face as they sneered, ‘Rules were meant to be broken.’ [i]Meant to be my ass[/i], Kingsley thinks bitterly. Kingsley Quinn hadn’t been planning to go – not at all – but the thought was more than a little tempting and it [i]was[/i] her only chance to go to it. After this year, she’ll be a functioning member of the capitalistic scummy society that she would rather spit on, she might as well have fun while she can, right?

Kingsley slipped her iPhone from her pocket and flipped through her contacts – Davis, Penelope, Elizabeth, Lily, – ah, there she is. Kingsley tapped out a quick text – or two – and sent:

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/tBod6Py.jpg?1[/img][/center]

She waited a second, for a reply, but when it took longer than that, Kingsley reluctantly slid the device back into her pocket. Kingsley walked towards the entrance to the school, skipping up the steps, and entered the building, all the while glaring at the walls as if it was their fault for the obnoxious, ear-bleeding ringing in her ears. [i]Which it was because god forbid this school have a normal bell system[/i]. 

Kingsley stuffed her ears with her headphones, drowning the sound out with mellow music, ignoring the straggling students who haven’t left the building yet – despite the actual assault on their ears.