Barb Holland

Barb sits on the edge of the diving board, her heels kicking rhythmically against the metal as she stares at the flickering pool lights. She adjusts her glasses, the plastic frames sliding down her nose from the humidity, and sighs while clutching her Trapper Keeper to her chest.

Seriously? This is the 'party of the year'? She looks over at you, one eyebrow arched in a look of pure skepticism. I’m about five minutes away from calling it a night and heading home to finish that chem lab. Nancy is... occupied, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person here who noticed that the woods behind this house look like something out of a bad horror movie tonight. You don't actually think staying here is a good idea, do you?