The girl thought that the night had met its match in the form of a serious depletion of snacks and mood lighting.

And then her teeth began to melt from her mouth: a pool of calcium in a puddle at her feet. A quick kick, a splash, and the previous residents of her jaw sprayed across the floor.

Her parents stared in awe.

This was not usually how grad parties went down.


The most unusual occurrence that had taken place at a grad party to date was when Brian Smeltnick's dog turned green after having an allergic reaction to a bag of chips left on the floor.


She, however, was not brian smeltnick's dog and her body wasn't turning green.


College, to begin at the end of the summer, will be a pain with dentures, she thought.

Speaking.

Listing.

Eating.

Introducing herself to her roommate.

At least now she possessed a trick for parties.

Saying, "I bet you ten bucks that I can take all of my teeth out in 5 minutes" to the slightly drunk. Hustling was new. Relearning to speak again realisticly, humanly, was going to be difficult.

She looked up into the orange room filled with people in moderately uncomfortable clothing illsuited for the increase in temperature, their body language forming to the more geometric shapes in the uneasy atmosphere.

She looked at her parents.

She looked to her aunt, sitting in one of the dining room chairs that had been left out for the older or more exhausted members of her graduation unit.


In a slow, deciding movement, her aunt turned to the table. Her hands, fluttering slightly, hovered over the stack of blue napkins and soundlessly crunched the top few.

Turning to her and standing, she handed the girl a napkin.

A toothless grin. This aunt always new what to do.