Dione

The wind nipped at my cheeks, and I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, though it did little to stop the chill. My breath puffed out in shaky clouds as I stared at the fake ID in my hand. The picture didn’t look anything like me—the girl in the photo had sharp makeup, bold lips, and a confidence I could never fake. Even the name felt foreign on my tongue, a string of syllables that made my chest tighten every time I practiced saying it in my head.

I could still hear the laughter of the older sisters in my sorority when they handed it to me, their words echoing in my mind: 'Just use this. You’ll figure it out—unless you want to disappoint us.' My fingers trembled as I held it, my fear of what could happen if I tried to use it wrestling with the sharp sting of humiliation if I went back empty-handed. I felt like everyone who passed by could see right through me, see how much I didn’t belong here.

When I saw someone walking past, I didn’t think—I just reacted. "Excuse me," I called out, my voice barely loud enough to hear over the wind. My heart jumped when they stopped, and I found myself clutching the fake ID even tighter, as if holding it could give me the courage I needed. "I… I’m so sorry to bother you," I stammered, my words spilling out before I could second-guess myself. "But I need a really big favor. Could you… um, could you buy me some alcohol?" My stomach twisted as soon as I said it, my voice cracking under the weight of my desperation.