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[indent][indent]Senior Year at any regular school might’ve been a pretty big deal. College prep on the minds of everyone, relationships entering their “make or break” stage (a.k.a. the  point where lover decide to stick it out past graduation or call it quits at that final party), and, of course everyone’s favorite part, the exams. Oh, the exams! Every teacher who wasn’t part of the art department (we all saw how disasterrific that assembly was) were going to put the students through academic hell.

But Senior Year at Rosefell? Oh, that was much worse. Exams and relationship failures took a backseat to stabbings, gang activity, and attempted murder -- and that was only if it was on a slow day. Everyone had a lot of shit on their minds and it was so very [i]dramatic[/i]. Nobody knew how to chill. They only saw the bad that life produced. Whether it was Jordan Ross doing whatever it was Jordan Ross felt like doing or the many, many, [i]many[/i] failed attempts Richard Brian gave to try and get Missy Elliot’s time of day (don’t ever call her that if you like breathing).

It was just too much for some people, in which the “some” was only one person; and this one person knew how to keep the good vibes rolling. If when everyone else failed to keep the party going, even when those who decided to cause trouble or stir the pot with existing trouble tea about to boil over, Nathaniel Blake knew just how to make everyone smile. 

He knew what people thought of him. He knew that how he held himself and how unnervingly positive he remained even when they called him lame, an idiot, and a waste of space, Nate knew that he couldn’t let anyone do get him down. He knew that he had to keep up the high spirits. He held no ill will for those who might criticize him for how he lived his life. IF they were beefing with him, then that was on them but no way was Nate going to let their Negative Nancy energy get in the way of him enjoying himself (wherever that might be).

As Nate pulled up in his mother’s beaten up jeep, a car that was able to go the distance as long as you didn’t push her too hard or too fast. He might’ve arrived at the party a little later than he had hoped, but he knew he would make it to his destination. He never had any doubt!

Once the jeep was parked and once he did a decent scan of the party, he saw a lot of familiar faces and a lot of them belonged to people he liked to think were his friends. Grooving to the music in his head, he spotted others like that new girl Cami and the blonde goddess herself, Aria talking a bit away. When he saw who was probably perfection personified, he knew this would be his night.

[color=007ba7]“Her. She needs to see my sick moves!”[/color] Nate nodded to himself repeatedly as he knew this meant for a special occasion. And what exactly did Nathaniel Blake do for special occasions? He brought out his special weapon.

As he quickly removed himself from the jeep and pulled out a seemingly normal portable boombox-looking object, it was the right size. It was smaller than most were. Compact. He could place it on his shoulder and it wouldn’t impede his movement that much. Most were around twelve pounds, but the one that Nate held in his hand by the handle was about five pounds (give or take). It was fitted with a smartphone feature that would play anything from his Spotify.

Before anyone around him would know it, as Nate The Great, who was sporting his trademark beige and red fedora (no sunglasses since it was, well dark out), a sleeveless light blue shirt, and Hawaiian swim trunks/shorts that served as swimming trunks, he was grooving to the bumpin, funky tunes of Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars’ [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bi4W3zGwY7I]Uptown Funk[/url]. He played it loud enough so that he could hear it over the increasingly loud beats the rest of the party was hearing. But he didn’t care! Nate the Great was a man on a mission!

Nate wasn’t the type to know limits. He had it in him to make grand gestures, to make those sort of statements that were bold and probably impractical (not to mention unrealistic). He also loved rather simply. When he crushed on someone, it was known and felt from a mile away. Because he wasn’t one to be subtle about it, sometimes that put people off but for some who were so laidback, so chill, and so-so-so beautiful like Tyra Washington, how could he not be just a bit smitten with her. She carried that beautiful head of hair on her shoulders with confidence that Nate couldn’t imagine having without some weed. He didn’t know if she used but what he knew he lacked, somehow it rose to the surface whenever he happened to be near her.

[color=007ba7]“This one’s for Tyra,”[/color] he muttered to himself, letting the flow of the uptown funk carry him into the company of RIch, Sam, and Tyra. [color=007ba7]“Wassup ladies and Richie!”[/color] Nate placed his boombox on the ground, leaning against whatever was closest as his eyes wouldn’t leave Tyra’s (but obviously not in a creepy way). Doing his best to be chill, he played his next move as smoothly as he could. [color=007ba7]“So, Tyra, feel like a dance?”[/color] He asked, half-smirking. He hoped to god he was coming off as charming and not at all creepy like Joe Goldberg.
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