Perched on an expensive patio table in Nadira’s back yard, the Aquila Drive party Magda had thrown without her permission was in full swing. She wasn’t even entirely sure who half of these people were, though she definitely recognised someone from Abernathy Creek as they flung down the tambourine they’d been pounding and cannonballed into the pool, fully clothed and yodelling. It made a commotion she didn’t bother to dwell on, glance like a disturbed cat aside, opting instead to look over her shoulder when she heard a new arrival. “Hi,” she addressed simply, lifting the magic eight ball in her hands to give it a limp shake. “Got any questions that keep you awake at night? My third eye’s open and it’s lazy in a really endearing way, like a French bulldog. I have the answer.” @irvingstarters