Different

There were tons of fancy cars around. Not that I'm into cars, I'm only eight years old, but I know a sports car when I see one. And that car over there? No way. It was, like, lighting up and booming music with words Mom would literally murder a person who said them. Mom stepped out of the car in her hundred dollar dress, a poofy one made of lemon colored metallic material that showed a lot of skin. I don't even know how she walked in those heels that got stuck in every crevasse she stepped in. I don't even know how I'd be able to walk in those. I mean, I can barely stand in my low thick heels!!!

I looked at my unpoofy, unformal, perfectly livable in dress. Literally, if a bomb hit our house right now, Mom would literally die in that dress. If that did happen, though, at least we could use her heels as daggers.

I looked at the house we were going into as Mom got her expensive purse. Well, it wasn't really a house. It was more like a castle, giant windows and lights brighter than the sun. Not to mention all the people. Mom grabbed my hand in hers and we walked toward the castle. Her nails had cost an arm and a leg to do, and they didn't even look that pretty! Just plain red, with a hint of purple. As we entered the 'house', I was lost in a sea of people.

Mom let go of my hand and went to a man in a black and red uniform. He smiled and kissed my mom's hand, before she shoved her purse into his hand. If she wanted to get remarried, that was not a good way to start, especially with a man who was interested.

I watched adults waddle by. If this was what a Mayor's Gala was, I never wanted to know the mayor. I didn't even know if I was supposed to be here. I bit my un-purple lip and walked over to the food. There were tiny, thick sandwiches with tooth picks stuck in them, as well as punch and other stuff. I picked up a sandwich. The toothpicks had colored tin on top. Who spends there money on toothpicks??? Mom said this was a formal party. I put the sandwich in my mouth. It couldn't even fit! I threw the sandwich in a trash basket trimmed with ribbon (seriously?). Then I moved onto the punch.

Huh. Red plastic cups seemed a bit tacky for the Mayor's Gala. I shook my head. Adults made no sense. But I also saw some butlers (Butt-lers? Who came up with that name?) carrying thin glasses of a yellowish liquid and limes around. Every female in the room seemed to be taking one. I looked into the punch bowl. There were balls of watermelon, and strawberries too. They'd go to waste, sitting in a punch bowl! Germs on them, and all for decoration!!

I looked around the giant room. Everyone was just standing there, talking. Talking. And standing. If everyone in this room was wearing Mom's heels, there would be ditches in the floor by now. And who talks? Talking's like shopping. Sometimes you can't wait until its over. Where were the bouncy houses and chaos, like at Hailey's birthday party last week? I didn't get it. The food. The house. The dresses. The place. And here I was, stranded on this alternate universe. I don't think I'll get it if I live to be a zillion.