I NEVER CONSIDERED WHAT
would happen once I did pitch for the twirling-dance-homecoming-thing. One thing I did consider, was why they call it a "fall ball" when we're obviously one foot into December. Homecoming doesn't fit the bar either, it's far too late.
We pull up in front of the gate I once entered to a new life. The gate I nervously stood in front of once, the gate that held so many secrets I had to figure out. Now I hold the secrets in my own hand, like a dying rose. I can milk the petals, manipulate the plant, the information.
Casey's dad rented a limousine for the evening all on his own—he didn't even ask Casey, never mentioned it. Fully stacked with [cough, nonalcoholic] champagne and expensive snacks my dad only buys at Christmas to impress the snob-like family flying in from Italy or Rome or wherever they immigrated to to fit their never ending budgets.
Did I mention Casey's dad rented a limo?
Behind that gate, my fate awaited as a new person. I didn't know what to expect when I walked through those gates once before for the first time. I didn't know if I'll have nostalgia, I didn't know if I will have a strong lust to fit like a jacket.
I didn't think Casey would treat me like a deity, but he did in anyways. He steadied my step with an arm hooked around mine, he blocked the wind from lifting my dress by occupying his posture in the windy direction. He peppers me with an array jokes and compliments, laying on a diluted candy coat to his usual brutality.
His eyes scatter across the school grounds, absorbing the different silhouettes. His thin body shivers with anxiety [or cold]. He takes a deep breath of air, for once not bottled up and fed to his nose with a pipe, and grabs hold of my hand for reassurance. His balance isn't even on his feet, his weight swaying.
He doesn't let go of my hand as we walk into the hall and he doesn't hover either.
His grip is firm around mine, but he needs the heat with the crocodile hands of his. We never held hands this long before—hell, I don't hold his hand. There's just something about this human I can't live without.
It's consoling to be around him.
The first time I lay eyes on Ashlynn and her skimpy red stripper dress, is when we walked through the gates. She has Braxton wrapped around her pinky and Dite hooked in her arm. Giggling like a mongrel, she fans her bleached hair, curled by hand, over her shoulders.
Her makeup is done the exact way she did my makeup the night of the sleepover. And as stubborn as I can be, she kind of looks beautiful. I pretend to look at a swamp animal of sorts who just woke up from hibernation at the bottom of a skunk's lair, but instead she's a mirror image of a rose.
She is beautiful, come hell or high water.
A red carpet of students lead up to the staircase elevating the hall. A scurry of incoherent words rustle with slapping lips and bellowing laughter. I can never get used to high school and I've been in it for three years.
Ashlynn's gaze falls on me like an anchor. Her eyes widen in sheer disbelief before she sets her jaw. Her shoulders hitch back; I got her to recoil at my stature.
Tonight, I will carry myself in pride, if she likes it or not. I'm not here for her, I'm here for myself and Casey. For my real friends.
"The boot connected with the nuts," Casey mumbles sarcastically. Ashlynn's eyes glazed over the boy clutching onto me as if he's surrounded by a havoc of ocean water and I'm the island stealthily packed above the currents.
YOU ARE READING
last resort
Teen Fiction❝Sometimes you've got to bleed to know that you're alive and have a soul, but it takes someone to come around to show you how,❞ She's the tear in his heart, he's on fire. She's the tear in his heart, she makes him higher. He's the butcher with the...
