The weekend of my Year Twelve ball: part two
Here is the second part of the three-part saga of my Year Twelve ball weekend, and it happens to be the most eventful. And the longest. Hot damn, if you thought my last entry was long, this one's a doozy. I'd totally offer prizes to anyone with enough stamina to make it through this entry, except for the part where I don't have any prizes. *smirk* I'm not going to put it behind a cut because I always seem to mess up LJ cuts.
I suggest reading the first part if you haven't already.
- - -
So I started getting ready at around five forty-five. It was kind of fun at times because for once everybody in my family- my mother, my two sisters and my brother- were all paying attention to me for a positive reason.
"Emmy, do you have a date?" my little brother asked me as my mother worked on my makeup.
"No, sweetie, I don't." I smiled very slightly. "You want to be my date, Alfius?"
Alfie clapped his hands. "Yeah!"
"Yeah, sweet." I ruffled his scrubbing-brush haircut. "You'd be the cutest boy there, for sure."
We were late running out the front door. Mum and Lucy had spent so much time arguing over my makeup and my hair. The phone rang as we were leaving and Lucy ran in to get it. As I climbed gingerly into the front passenger seat of the car, Lucy came rushing out of the house. "That was The Girl's mum, she was asking whether we were on our way. I told her we were leaving," she reported as she slid obligingly into the backseat and buckled herself in.
It was growing dark as we made our way down the highway to The Girl's place. Unwell by Matchbox 20 was playing on the radio as I beamed at the rushing lights that sped their way past us. I was so excited. This was the time I had been waiting for- all the drama over, all the preparation done. Now it was finally time to have fun.
The car trundled through the winding streets of The Girl's neighbourhood. My little sister was the one who gave Mum directions, telling her which way to turn. Lucy and I cooed and I called her 'our little navigation system.'
We parked. Mum instructed Alfie and Lilli to stay in the car while she and Lucy walked me to the front door of The Girl's house. I was trying valiantly not to be nervous. She's just your friend, all right? I told myself firmly. Totally platonic. Just think of her that way and you won't slip up...
So we rang the doorbell. And we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And rang it again.
And waited.
By this time my nervousness was definitely getting the best of me. I was twisting my hands together and interlocking my fingers in odd ways, a sure sign of distress.
“They’re not home,” I heard my big sister hiss to my mother.
I rounded on her. “They’ve got to be,” I said, my voice tense. “They said they’d wait for me, didn’t they?”
My mum and my sister rang the doorbell a few more times. “Are you sure this is the right house?” Lucy asked.
“’Course it’s the right house. I stayed here just last night,” I said forcefully.
Lucy went to investigate the garage. “I don’t think their car’s here, Mum...”
I went silent as I processed this new information. “... Can you drive me to the ball, please, Mum?” I said in a hollow, emotionless voice.
“Of course I can!” said Mum indignantly. “Don’t worry, Em, it’s all right. We’ll get you there.”
I don’t even want to be there now, I yelled in my head. I bet if I was a better person they wouldn’t have ditched me!
We started to make our way back to the car. My mother chucked my sleepover bag over the back fence- I couldn’t even summon the words to question whether I would even be going back there after the dance.
Lucy, Mum and I piled back into the car. “What’s going on? Why isn’t Emily going?” asked one of the children.
“Emily is going,” said Mum, perusing the map to try and locate the venue of the dance. She and Lucy spent the next few minutes arguing, effing and blinding about the whole situation and trying to figure out how we were going to get me to the ball. This took ages. I sat very still in the front seat of the car, not saying anything. It was one of those moments where you just want to scream some random obscenity, bury your face in your hands and sob.
"It's her mum, Em," said my mother bracingly in the car as we went up the highway. "I'm sure it's not her. Your friend, she's lovely, isn't she?"
This is what I said: "... Yes. She's nice."
This is what I thought: Yes, she is lovely. I think she's the loveliest person I know. And she obviously doesn't even begin to feel the same way about me. Nobody's ever going to fall for me the way I have for her. Nobody's ever going to look at me and just want more than anything to do right by me, make me happy, see me smile. I know my family are always saying they'll always love me and look after me, and I know this is terrible but- I want her too. I want her so badly. It's the crappiest thing in the world to think that the whole world seems to want us apart. The whole goddamned world...
I stayed mostly silent on the drive to the town sailing club, where the ball was being held. It took ages for us to find it, which only prolonged the agony. The new Rogue Traders song was playing on the radio as we pulled up to the Sailing Club. It was all lit up, looking so bright and elegant. The blurry figures milling around outside the front doors came into focus, and I recognised girls from my year. My heart sank at the prospect of having to get out of the car.
"Emily, are you completely sure you don't want me to walk you in?" Lucy asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure," I murmured softly. "I'll be cool."
"Are you sure? 'Cause you don't want to have to walk in by yourself. Come on, just let me walk you in-" Lucy persisted.
I cut across her. "Aw, Mumma, drop me here, drop me here," I started saying. It sounds hopelessly adolescent but suddenly I didn’t want to be seen getting out of the family car. After all, I was already showing up alone and nearly in tears, I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than was strictly necessary.
My big sister cottoned on to my discomfort. "Drop her here, Mum, drop her here!"
Mum got flustered and the car screeched to a halt. The sound of the tires squealing made everyone in the immediate vicinity turn around and goggle at me. I threw the last shred of dignity I had out the proverbial window, flung the door open while Mum and Lucy started bickering again. I jumped out, nearly killing my ankle in the process.
"Emily!" yelled someone. I spotted my old friend Emma, looking totally sophisticated in dark purple. It was so hard to believe that she was that same freckly kid who would make everybody on the playground nearly puke with gross stories when we were in primary school.
Mum and Lucy were staring at me out of the car. "Are you sure-?" I heard Lucy call out.
"I'm fine, I'm cool," I choked out, gesturing frantically for my mother to drive off. "I'll see ya. Bye, family!"
Mum sighed and drove off into the night. And so there I was. Emily, eternal loser, having been stood up by her friends on the night of the ball. There was no turning back now.
I walked over to Emma, trying not to cry. "Hey, Emma. I love your dress," I said, pasting a fake smile onto my face. So fake a smile, in fact, that Emma saw through it instantly.
"Em, what’s wrong?" asked Emma in concern.
I winced. Oh, God, don’t let me start crying now. Not with all this makeup on. "No, it’s nothing," I whispered. "I just- I- I kind of got ditched by Christina and The Girl."
"Oh, Em..."
"They were meant to wait for me and they didn’t." Every word I said about the whole situation felt like getting kicked right in the heart.
Emma patted me on the back. "Well, listen, Em, there’s room at our table if you don’t want to sit with them any more-"
"No, it’s OK, it’s cool. I’ll be fine," I babbled.
"Listen, it’s not you, I promise," said Emma. "The Girl’s mum is a bit of a Nazi about times, she probably just didn’t want them to be late."
"Yeah. All right."
Emma gestured at her friends. "Do you want to wait out here with us and then go in with us?"
"No, I think- I think I’ll just go inside, look around. Mingle. Um, I’ll see you inside." I started to walk toward the door. In an effort to prove that I was OK, I turned and called to her friends Chloe and Sara, "Hey, Sara, Chloe! You guys look wonderful!"
Sara and Chloe turned around smiling, but completely flinched when they got a look at the expression on my face. "You look great too, Em- but are you all right?" asked Chloe.
"Totally fine," I said, making my way toward the door. Don't try to talk any more, Emily, I told myself. Not until you've calmed down.
I stumbled in behind some other people and handed my ticket to my homicidal maniac of a year level coordinator. You had to climb a curving flight of stairs to reach the ballroom, and as I ascended it I could see lots of girls in my year, as well as photographers for the school annual. I held myself very carefully, holding up my dress so I wouldn't step on it. I knew that if anybody took a picture of me then it would've shown a blonde girl in a floaty gold dress, careful makeup and sexy shoes... with an expression on her face like a dog that somebody had kicked.
I have never felt less beautiful in my entire life, I thought as I walked up the stairs. I nearly crumpled then, I turned my face to the wall and willed myself not to cry.
I didn't cry. I was surprised at how strong I managed to stay in those awful, lonely moments. I shook hands with the head girl and her date, even made a joke about the pink rose her date had in his buttonhole. I ventured into the ballroom and saw how great it looked- sheer white cloth hanging from the ceiling, lights everywhere, flower arrangements on the tables.
My gaze drifted to a table in the corner, where I saw two people whose dresses and hair looked very familiar. It was them. The Girl and Christina.
I froze. I can't do it. I can't go over to them. I'll look like such an idiot. I mean, they obviously don't want me there...
I steeled myself. I put my shoulders back, neatened my hair with my fingers and took the plunge- I walked sedately over to their table.
"Heya, guys, what’s happening?" I said coolly. I sat down briskly opposite them, at the seat with my name on it. "Wow, don't you two look amazing."
"Emily!" cried out one in surprised tones. I was too pent-up to be able to remember even minutes afterwards who it was that said what.
"Emily, we're so sorry we didn't wait for you."
"Well, that's fine," I said evenly, leaning my chin on my hand and gazing disdainfully out at the dance floor, where people congregated in swirling masses. I tried to assume the appearance of a girl who was thoroughly underwhelmed and totally unruffled by the general situation, who couldn't really care less that she'd been ditched by two girls she counted as friends (one of whom she happened to be secretly, painfully in love with).
"You look really lovely," said The Girl earnestly. She frowned. "Are you OK?"
I gazed boredly at her. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"We really are so sorry we didn't wait for you. It was just that my mother-"
"Yeah, well, that's cool." I blinked slowly, obstinately. "So, how are we liking it so far? Wicked decorations, aren't they?" I stood up and went to lean against the wall next to our table. I had one of those moments where you can see yourself as if you're outside your own body- my shoulders slumped and I had a hopeless, helpless look on my face.
"Are you sure you're-" The Girl started to ask again, looking concerned.
"Hey, I haven't even shown you guys the best part of my outfit yet," I interrupted her. I pulled up the skirts of my dress a few inches to show off my feet. "Are these not the sexiest shoes you have ever seen in your life?"
"Oh, they're really nice," said Christina approvingly.
"I can walk in them too, so that's cool." I sat back down with a thump.
For the first hour of my Year Twelve ball, I was mostly quiet. Every time I saw The Girl and Christina laugh about something I would pretend to laugh too, but I was lost in my thoughts.
The Girl really did look gorgeous. She was wearing a dress that had belonged to her mother over twenty years before, that her mother had worn in a beauty contest. A beauty contest she'd WON. And in my opinion, on the night, in that dress, The Girl would've totally blitzed any beauty contest in the wide world.
I can't help thinking you're fantastic, I thought sadly as supper was served. But this has got to stop. I can't love you any more. It's not safe for either of us, and especially not for me. You break my heart without even trying, without even knowing. I don't even know what to do about it, but I know something has to stop.
I pushed my plate away as I finished my last bite of food. The lights had dimmed, the music was high and the dance floor was crowded. "I don't know about you guys, but this is my Year Twelve ball and I'm not sittin' here like a lemon all night," I said determinedly. "As soon as a song I like comes on, I'm gunna go dance."
The Girl looked doubtfully out at the dance floor. "I don't think I'll dance. I don't really like this kind of music."
"Oh, come on," I said scornfully. My tone softened from scornful to sly teasing as I asked, "Do you want to tell your daughter someday that you just sat at your Year Twelve ball?"
"Want to go and dance?" Christina asked me.
I hated the song that was playing, but I knew I'd go crazy with thinking on everything that had happened if I just stayed sitting down. At least if I was dancing I would be concentrating on other things. I nodded yes to Christina's suggestion and turned to The Girl. "When a song you like comes on, come on down and dance with us, OK?" I told her. "It'll be fun."
I decided then, as Christina and I sailed off to the dance floor to find some friends and dance, that I couldn't stay mad at The Girl. It was her mum's decision to leave without me, not hers. I wasn't making either of us have a better time by staying angry with her. I love her, I thought to myself. When you love someone, you forgive them for things like that, things that were out of their control. Tonight will only ever happen once, and even though it started out crappy I want it to be a night I'll remember happily. I want her to remember it happily too. For the rest of tonight, I'm going to make her happy.
The Girl caught up with us then, and straight away I put my new resolution into action. I acted warmly toward her from the moment she announced her presence. The three of us decided not to dance right away, but to go out onto the balcony and socialise a bit.
As we made our way outdoors into the cool night air, Christina got roped into taking pictures of the boarders from Singapore with their dates.
I went and stood next to The Girl. "Heya, what's happening?" I asked her jovially.
I was holding onto the cool metal railing with my hands, my back against it, standing very tall and straight. She turned and took a couple of steps so that she stood in front of me, very close, much less than arm’s length. We looked intently into each other's faces for a moment. For me, it was a really weird, kind of scary sort of sexual tension-y moment where if there hadn’t been anyone around, I would’ve maybe done something. I don’t even know what I would’ve done- just something crazy, something I would never have been able to explain away.
I’m normally really prickly about having people in my space. When I was younger my grandad suggested that I had a fear of intimacy because I used to freeze up and then squirm away when he hugged me. I only have about two friends in the world who I hug on a regular basis, and that’s only when we’re saying goodbye after we’ve spent a day together. But The Girl... I like having The Girl in my space. No, scratch that. I love having her in my space. It’s so scary but kind of exciting too. I want to know every strand of her hair, every inch of her skin, every atom of her. When we’ll be sitting beside each other in class her arm or her hand will bump into mine and I am always surprised, every single time, at how soft her skin is. It’s addictive. It drives me out of my mind.
"Um. Nice night, isn’t it?" I said awkwardly after a moment’s silence.
She nodded and walked to the railing, peering over it at the sailboats moored down by the water’s edge. The Girl looked a little sad and from the expression on her face, I felt I knew the reason why.
"Can I ask you something?" The Girl couldn’t hear me, so I had to lean right over and talk into her ear. "Would there have been, like... someone you would’ve wanted to go to your ball with back home in Malaysia?"
The Girl looked at me and then laughed. "I’m sorry, Emily, but I’ve sworn myself to secrecy."
I shrugged and threw my hair back over my shoulder in a that-was-a-throwaway-question-of-no-real-importance-to-me way. "Well, that’s fine. I was just, like, wondering."
She studied me for a second. "Why, is there someone you would’ve wanted to go with?"
I blinked. "What, me? No, nah, never. Not me!"
Christina came back on over and the three of us headed back inside. She and I decided to go and locate some friends to dance with. The Girl said she would sit out for a minute.
A whole group of our friends were dancing in a circle. Christina and I joined them. All the songs that were playing were truly shite, but they had good beats so I sacrificed my principles for the moment and danced recklessly.
I was suddenly aware of The Girl appearing in the circle, next to me. "Hey, so glad you decided to join us!" I called, waving at her. She smiled and swayed slowly from side to side. It was obvious she didn’t feel so comfortable with the music. It was some loud rap song- everyone else seemed to be either moshing or nasty-dancing, and that’s definitely not her style.
At that moment Emma spotted me and reached out her hands to me across the circle of kids. She twirled me, we danced together for a few seconds and then she pulled me over to her side to dance beside her.
I could see The Girl across the circle now. In a kind of attempt at fitting in, she extended her hand, I took it and she twirled me. She let go after that and just stood there swaying a little bit, looking kind of unhappy and out of it. She’s so not the nasty-dancing booty girl type, which is something I'm infinitely glad of.
I looked hard at her. Then I held out my hand. "Come here, I’m going to twirl you," I told her, scarcely believing my own daring. Me, mousy little Emily, actually having the brass to ask someone to dance with me? Actually having the brass to ask her to dance with me?
She let me do it. I was clumsy, but genuine. I wanted her to have a good time, after all.
"Oh my God. Emily!" cried Emma suddenly. "We had a pact! We had a pact and we broke it!"
I grinned evilly at her, remembering this particular pact we'd made, in our closer, younger years. "Well, OK, Emma. Do you want to tell them?"
Emma addressed the group at large. "When Em and I were in Year Eight, we made a pact that we would show up to our Year Twelve ball in jeans and t-shirts, and we’d walk through the door and shout-" (We grabbed each other’s hands and pumped them into the air.) "WE’RE LESBIANS!" we screamed together.
Everybody cracked up.
A whole group, led by Emma’s date Nick, all put their arms around each other and started up a can-can line. More and more of us joined on, and I heard Nick yell, "Come on, girls, kick up those high heels!" We were all helpless with laughter.
After we'd danced for awhile we went to get photos taken. We must’ve spent three quarters of an hour queuing for photos. I had my disposable camera with me and I kept going up to my friends and saying, "You look pretty, so I’m going to take a picture of you. Smile, please!" I got an individual picture taken, one picture with a huge crowd of girls and their dates, one with just the girls and one with The Girl and Christina. (I hope to God I didn't blink while the photo was being taken. I always seem to do that.)
There was more dancing, more laughter, more fun out on the dance floor. I saw The Girl start to make her way back to our table, and I followed her.
“You didn’t have to come here and sit with me,” she said reprovingly as I took my seat across the table from her.
“But I wanted to.” I added swiftly, “I mean- I feel ready to sit out for a bit.”
The Girl nodded and gestured at the empty chair beside her. “Come and sit here...”
I sat down next to her, and a second went by where neither of us knew what to say. I glanced critically at my nails, tutting at them. The Girl noticed me doing this. "Did you get your nails done?" The Girl asked, picking up my hand.
I pulled it away and held it against myself. "Nope. Nothing there to get done, is there?" I made a little confession then. "I'm always, like... so embarrassed about my nails. That's why I go around with my hands made into fists. It may look like I'm in a violent mood or something-" (She laughed here.) "- but really, it's ‘cause I'm embarrassed about having bitten nails. That's why I want to give up, because I want to be able to paint my nails like other girls do."
She proceeded to tell me about how she and Christina had spent their day. "We watched that movie again- like, three times. We watched the songs so many times. Christina went crazy over Hrithik Roshan, of course!" (Hrithik Roshan is that Bollywood heartthrob from the movie we watched on Friday night. I Googled his name in preparation for this LJ entry, and spent a few minutes scowling at the number of fansites he had.) The Girl smiled. "Do you think he's attractive, Emily?"
"Uh... he'd probably look better if he had dark eyes," I said, dodging the question.
The Girl tittered. "People are always going on about his light eyes."
"Yeah, well, I happen to find people with dark hair and dark skin and dark eyes incredibly attractive," I said firmly. It took a moment for me to realise that this was probably the most overtly flirty thing I'd ever had the guts to say to her. Then it took me another moment to realise that it didn't matter anyway, because she thought I was saying I liked men with dark hair and all the rest of it. It's annoying to think that any attempts I'll ever make at flirting with her will go utterly to waste seeing as she'll think I'm talking about something totally different. *facedesk*
You must know that I happen to be a compulsive fidgeter. I am always fidgeting. Earlier on I had been repeatedly opening and closing the fan I'd gotten with my place setting. If I’m ever wearing a watch, I’ll be messing with it. If I’m wearing a ring, I’ll be twisting it around and around my finger. Right then I was playing with my bracelet, rolling it in my fingers. The Girl watched me do this.
"It’s so delicate and pretty," she said admiringly, holding out her hand for me to pass her the bracelet. I put it into her palm and watched her while she rolled it in her own fingers, examining it. Then she beckoned for me to hold up my wrist, and she slipped it back on me. It took a little bit of manoeuvring to get the bracelet back on. I muttered fleetingly, worriedly, "It’s not going to work-" just before she managed to push it so that it slid onto my wrist without breaking.
I looked over at the dance floor and chuckled at the sight of a group of boys who were moshing madly as some slow song played. "It’s gotten to that point in the evening..." I commented, smirking.
We kept looking at each other, smiling and then looking away, lost in our own thoughts. There was something I really felt I had to say, though.
I opened my mouth to speak, thought better of it and then closed it. The Girl saw this. "Did you say something?"
I started to speak again, but she indicated that she couldn’t hear me over the loud music. I leaned over and spoke into her ear. "No, it’s just- look, I just wanted to say that I totally understand and identify and that, about you swearing yourself to secrecy about liking people. I’m exactly the same way."
She smiled sheepishly and said, sounding a bit embarrassed, "There was this boy... back home. He liked me, and when I was younger I liked him."
I nodded. "Hmm, yeah." I wondered how I could be taking this so well. If she’d been going on about how she and some boy were like, soooo in love and soooo 2getha 4eva I think I might’ve gotten upset. In any case, I hid what I felt.
"Have you ever had a crush on a boy, Emily?" she asked me.
I blushed. "Just, like, uh... movie stars. When I was younger. Like, thirteen," I said, truthfully. I thought about how in recent years people have asked me which movie stars I had fangirl crushes on, and how I would always answer, "Nobody I could say without fear of persecution." until they took the hint and stopped asking me. They thought it meant I got crushes on really geeky men. Nobody ever suspects. It sounds nice and neat and comfortable and safe, but it can feel very lonely sometimes.
The Girl giggled. "Me too."
Christina joined us then. "What’s going on?" she asked curiously, seeing us laughing.
"She’s sworn to secrecy!" said The Girl hastily, laughing.
I grinned. "Yeah, I’d tell you, but she’d have to kill me."
Christina decided to let it go. The three of us all got up to go and dance again.
"Emily, were you offended that we didn’t wait for you?" The Girl asked me as we hurried down to the dance floor.
I shook my head brusquely. "No, no way. Not at all."
"Because you looked quite distraught." She kept looking at me. "Were you offended?"
I shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Well... a bit, yeah."
"We never meant to hurt you, Emily. It was just that my mother wanted to try and find this place before it got dark. We never meant to hurt your feelings."
... I smiled in spite of myself. "Yeah, all right. That’s cool." For the first time that evening, I actually meant it.
The Girl pulled me to a vacant space on the edge of the dance floor and we started dancing together again. We didn't even consider joining up with a big group of people like before- she and I just had an absolute blast all by ourselves.
It was so incredibly wonderful, the two of us whirling around, jumping, twisting, swaying, grabbing hands, dancing, singing along, smiles never leaving our faces. I was clumsy, but I didn't even care and it appeared that she didn't either. Once or twice we danced really close, much, much less than arm’s length away from each other, but when we weren’t I didn’t mind. What was really thrilling was that she was paying so much attention to me, holding my gaze for long periods of time, beaming at me. Her smile makes my heart sing.
... The dance ended so quickly after that. It was insane how quickly it went- and how much fun I ended up having. *slow, wide grin* The Girl, Christina and I all had negative to lukewarm feelings about the last song played, so we left while it was still playing. The Girl's mother was waiting outside in her car with her two younger daughters.
Christina, The Girl and I gushed about the ball all the way back to her house. I went a marvellous shade of magenta when The Girl said to her mother, "Emily’s never looked so girlish."
When we got home, everyone went to bed aside from The Girl, Christina and I. I changed into my pyjamas and scrubbed off as much of my makeup as I could. While Christina talked to somebody (presumably a relative) on her mobile phone in The Girl's room, The Girl and I watched part of yet another of her Bollywood movies in the lounge. Hrithik Roshan was in it again, and I was surprised when I saw him actually kiss his leading lady (yet another extremely pretty Indian actress, the lucky sod). As far as I knew, people don't kiss in Indian movies. The Girl commented on how much of an uproar there was over the kiss.
"You can’t see them locking lips or anything," I commented. " So it’s not that bad, is it?"
"It’s just that way, though, in India." She turned to look at me. "Years ago, two Indian actresses were in a lesbian movie. People burnt cinemas down because of it."
This is what I said: "You don’t say? I think I might have heard of that movie..."
This is what I didn't say: "Uh... I kind of wrote an essay on that movie last year in Media Studies."
We didn't watch all of the movie because we were so worn out with dancing, so we made our way to bed. Us three girls lay in the same order again- The Girl beside the wall, me in the middle and Christina on the outside edge. Christina made a dreamy-happy comment about Hrithik Roshan.
"He's an idiot," The Girl said, in the darkness, totally out of the blue.
I stared at her. She didn't see me do this, in the dark.
"He once said in an interview that he didn't like Asian women, completely disregarding the fact that India is a part of Asia. So he's Asian, and his wife is Asian," she elaborated scornfully.
Needless to say, I was... kind of thrilled. :)
- - -
As soon as I have the time, I'll get up the last instalment (which is not as eventful as the first two). And as soon as I have the means, I will post pictures from the ball. *crosses fingers* Here's hoping it's soon, eh?