Burning Moon (Wattpad Version)

Chapter 6

I’ve only ever regretted wearing two outfits in my entire life; and I have legitimate excuses for both.

Like most, my teenage years were a confusing time, made even more confusing by the fashion choices of the day. The early two thousands boasted two very conflicting looks, making confused teenagers, with confused self-identities, confused hormones and low self-esteems, even more confused. On the one hand, there was Grunge; depressed, dirty and rebellious. And on the other hand there was Rave; happy, glittery and bright.

This was all very traumatic for Sue, Val and I. We just didn't know where we fitted in, and as you know, at fourteen, all you want to do is fit in. So one night, we experimented with Grunge; we donned our eight-hole Doc Martens with purple laces. We hadn’t washed, or brushed, our hair for at least five days in preparation and then we added the final, and most important touch, the obligatory Kurt Cobain T-shirt and a second hand jersey that had been bought from a thrift store that was probably last worn by a dead person with dandruff. We put on our most depressing faces and all went to Jessica’s party.

There'd been a lot of head banging that night, as well as bumping into each other on the dance floor (i.e Jessica’s parents' lounge). We all acted very angry and pretended we smoked cigarettes so the boys would think we were cool. But the next day we woke up with bruises from the bashing, sore necks from the banging and dry throats from the smoking. We concluded that Grunge was NOT for us.

A couple of weeks later it was Phillip's party, and we decided to try Rave on for size! So we donned our luminous lycra leggings, mine were electric yellow and seared the retinas off anyone who looked directly at them. We put on our fairy wings and got out our glow sticks. We then added the final touches, taking some blue and pink food colouring and making streaks in our blonde hair.

But after a night of too many energy drinks, tiger balm, fist pumping, whistle blowing and a 'doof, doof, doof, doof, doof' base that reverberated so hard, it made Phillip’s mother's ornaments vibrate on the shelves, we decided this, too, was not for us.

But that regret, was nothing compared to this one…

There was nothing aesthetically wrong with the outfit I was wearing tonight; rather, it was more of a practical issue. It was a stunning, white vintage, knee-length dress with delicate lace detailing. The neckline tied together with beautiful cream ribbons that hung just below my bust.

And who could have predicted what happened next?

A warm gust of wind suddenly came out of nowhere, knocking several candles over. One went flying into my lap, instantly burning a little hole in the fabric. But that wasn’t the problem. The real problem was that the ribbons caught fire. Who knew ribbons were so damn flammable?

I was on fire!

I jumped up and started swatting myself frantically, the look on Damian’s face was pure horror, and I’ve never seen anyone get out of his seat so quickly.

“Oh my God, Lilly, you’re on fire!” Damian rushed at me with a serviette and started slapping.

“Ow!” I shrieked, “That hurts!”

“Would you rather I left you to burn?” Damian shouted back at me. The whole scene was very dramatic.

The little flames were getting higher and higher and heading directly for my face.

“Take it off! Take it off!” Damian shouted. 

“What? My dress? Are you kidding?” 

“Jesus, Lilly, this is no time to be prudish, just take it off. It’s not like I haven't seen it before.”