Nothing Spectacular.

She sat in the back corner of the room, next to the bar. She must have been one of eight people who had actually arrived at the venue on time, and she was feeling anxious – she could understand why people drank alcohol at these events. She was also conscious that she was less dressed up than the others, wearing a simple ensemble of shirt and skirt, and a pair of weathered black converse that had seen Sydney, Melbourne, and even the likes of Spain, Italy, Paris, London, Korea and Croatia. They even had a hole in the top of one, which she had tried to hide with an intricate permanent marker illustration that skilfully blended polka dots with stripes with imagery of umbrellas and polaroid photographs. She wasn’t wearing any makeup (Save perhaps passionfruit lip balm), but her wrists were adorned with possessions and paraphernalia: her right wrist a hair-tie and faux leather wristband (She would never wear anything real leather), her left an electric pen drawing of three cherry blossom flowers connected by a shakey line that could mean wire or vine or anything really, a winnie the pooh bandaid, a papier mache bracelet, and her graduation bracelet. All in all, it was probably her decided unspectacularness that set her apart – or made her spectacular compared to – the rest of the people in the crowd, who were already starting to show signs of intoxication even though it wasn’t much later than eight.