Late, as always. "I'm late!" she mumbled to herself for the tenth time, unable to tear herself away from the latest article online. "Mercury's magnetic field strangled by solar wind" read the title. It was a good thing her studies were Astronomy, or she would've dropped out ages ago due to putting off so many things to surf the net to read stuff like this. Finally, having finished the article, she decided to put off checking her gmail, hotmail, IRC and a few forums for the fifth time that day to prepare herself.<br/><br/>Half an hour later - she was supposed to be at the slumber party in 10 minutes, she stepped out, fresh, bathed and for the most part, ready. She grabbed various necessities, spare clothes and, forcing herself not to think too deeply about it, some morning-after pills, in case she got into someone. With everything packed, she dragged her backpack to the hallway, got into a black/white pair of converses, slung the black backpack over her right shoulder and headed out the door.<br/><br/>The house she was supposed to be at was at least a twenty minute walk away on a good day, and she didn't really know exactly where it was. She had seen it on an image, looked at a map online when she got the address, but she didn't have a smartphone, or anyway to find her way other than a vague sense of direction and the rare, touristey maps put up in various places. A full half an hour later, now more than twenty minutes late, she finally found her way to the house, walking up to see bikes and a car already parked.<br/><br/>Cecilia stopped just inside the property, glancing up at the sky. She was in the city, and it was still too light to see even the few stars that were occasionally visible to the naked eye here. With a sigh, she corrected her black tee some. It was intentionally not too tight-fitting, but she wanted the creases to be in just the right places. The customary thigh-high, black socks and grey skirt were in place. She felt comfortable enough, though she couldn't quite dismiss the fluttery sensation in her stomach.<br/><br/>"21, and I still feel like the first day of school," she mumbled to herself, starting the walk up to the front door, now almost exactly half an hour late. She stopped before the door, took a deep breath, tried to make herself knock, then took another deep breath and forced herself to knock on the door twice, surprising herself a little with how hard she seemed to have knocked. She always knocked on doors, even with doorbells, and she didn't know why.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>