Loud music and unruly teenagers all together in one overcrowded house were the last thing you wanted to deal with on a Friday night. However, you knew there was no getting past Amber's incessant pleading for you to come.

It's rare a party's not being thrown at Amber's house. What with the lack of bars, and the staggering ratio of uptight-to-cool parents that occupy Woodsboro suburbia, Amber's house had become a sanctuary for burnouts and everyone looking for a good time.

Now, unfortunately for you, your bestfriend does not take kindly to your absence at these things.

Amber finds you slumped in an arm chair in the livingroom, gathered around maybe fifteen other highschoolers watching Charlie's Angels on loop on the TV.

She smiles, taking a sip from her solo cup as she sits on the arm of the chair, with a sly, easy smirk on her lips. Occasional shouts of "sick party, Freeman!" are thrown her way as people come and go, circulating around the house.

Amber turns her attention back to you, snorting at the disgruntled look you shoot her way. "What, do you not like my party?" She teases, twirling a strand of your hair around her ring adorned fingers.

"Get that neglected pou expression off your face. Have some punch." She pushes her cup into your hands.