Tonight

1.

Sam awoke with a start – the room was still dark as she blinked away her grogginess and felt her eyes open wide. Her breathing had grown rapid as she slept restlessly, and the dream had come back to her again. This time, she was standing in the kitchen as the rest of the class stood around her pointing and laughing; she was naked. The group of classmates laughing were the ones she liked the least, but she noticed a few of her so-called friends had joined in this time. A single, warm tear trickled down her cheek before the steady flow of water and salt followed. She decided that she would not go to the party tonight, even if that meant sure social suicide. She had not been to a party yet this year, or last, she said to herself to inspire conviction in her decision, but the effort fell flat. Sam breathed deeply between sobs and buried her tear-soaked face into her pillow. Why is high school so hard? Sam decided to get up and check her phone again hoping that the party had been called off for some reason, but it had not. Her best friends Liz and Sophie had been messaging their What’s App group last night about when they could pick her up and she had simply ignored them, hoping the problem would go away if she just pretended it was not really happening. It didn’t.

Sam did not like parties, nor did she like being social. She was smart, and the boys at school poked fun at her for that reason. Were they scared? Probably. They were intellectually inferior to her in every way, and their so-called maturity was abhorrent, to say the least, though absolutely non-existent seemed more appropriate. She had turned the light on in her room and stared at herself in the mirror; she was pretty, or at least that is what the people that liked her told her. She wasn’t as pretty as the girls she followed on Instagram but then again, they were fake and not what she wanted to be when she grew up. She at least knew that much. She wasn’t as pretty as Gemma – the most popular girl in the school. Would Gemma be at the party? She thought quietly and continued to look at herself. She smiled. Who cares, she needed to make a decision and make it quickly. If she wasn’t going, she needed a really good excuse to get out of this one. It was the year-end party and she had skipped it last year, choosing to go on a weekend getaway with her family instead. It was a good choice, she thought as she smiled to herself.

“Fuck it,” she said as she looked at herself in the mirror. It was one party, and she wasn’t going to let her anxiety prevent her from having a good time. She would buy herself a new dress, put on her war paint and embrace the societal norms of a teenager in high school. She wouldn’t drink though, that was taking it a step too far. She pulled out her phone and opened the What’s App group; there was no going back now. They knew she had seen the message as she slowly tapped at her iPhone screen, “Pick me up at 7. Let’s make this a night we won’t forget!!!” The extra exclamation marks and emoji’s added enough dramatic effect, she thought. She tried to shrug off the rush of emotions that she felt as the anxiety swept over her. When that didn’t work, she tried to embrace it. That didn’t work either. She fell back into her bed and put her face back into her pillow as the tears filled her eyes.

2.

“Liz – can you hand me those shoes we picked?” Sam sneered at herself in the mirror as she squeezed into a too-tight blue dress. “You look stupid,” she mumbled as she took the dress off before she even had the shoulder straps anywhere near her shoulders.

“Liz? Can you get me that black dress?” No answer. She sighed; she hated shopping and they weren’t making it any more enjoyable. She picked up her phone from the top of the pile of clothes that were stacked beside her and text Liz, “Hey – I need the black dress and those shoes. I want to get out of here.”

Her phone vibrated immediately, “Sry, I was talking to Tyler. OMW.” Sam screwed up her face as she read the text. Tyler was one of the cool kids, but he wasn’t as bad as his friends. That was, until he got into a group with the rest of them. Groupthink made most people stupid, but teenage boys were an exceptional case of stupidity inspired by groupthink. She startled at the sound of a knock on the changing room door as a pair of black shoes slid underneath and a black dress was strewn over the door. She looked at the shoes and shook her head; why was she doing this? Why did she care what people thought? And why dress up for a stupid party? “Just try them on,” said a soft voice from the other side of the door. “If you hate them, we will just find something in my closet for you to wear.” Sam sighed as the footsteps faded away down the hallway. She felt her eyes welling up as she stared at the mirror, but fought back the tears and repeated her mantra – “Just one party, just one party. You aced AP Bio, you can figure out how to survive one party.” She was the president of the debate club and hadn’t lost a debate since her first year of high school – she was destined to be a lawyer. As a lawyer, she would need to figure out how to dress for the job, but that was at some point in her life and today just wasn’t it.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled to herself as she got changed back into her jeans and t-shirt. She took the dress and shoes, opened the door and walked back to the changing room desk. “Sorry, didn’t fit,” she said with a smile as Liz shook her head at her without even looking up from her phone. “You know if you are going to be a lawyer, you will need to figure out how to wear a dress. You can’t just rock a pantsuit every day,” she said as they locked arms and walked away from the changing rooms from hell. “How’s Tyler?” Sam asked, causing Liz to blush. “Shut up,” she said without looking at her.

3.

Sam’s phone vibrated on her desk and startled her – she had been very focused on the make-up tutorial she was watching on YouTube. It was from her Mom, and based on the time, she could assume it simply said dinner was ready. You didn’t need to yell up the stairs anymore, she had told her mom a few years back, just text me. “I will not text my daughter when she is in our house,” her mother replied. Well, she began texting her daughter a few weeks after that statement was made. Sam provided some very logical arguments as to why this was an appropriate method of communication and actually the most suitable for the delivery of short messages. “Do you email people you work in your office with?” she quipped before her mother told her to go do the dishes. “Punishment for a good idea – I hope you treat your staff better than this.” Her mother simply smiled and took a sip of red wine as she looked back down at her computer.

Sam came barreling down the stairs and took a seat at the table. Before her mother could say anything, she asked her a simple question, “Do you have party make-up that is different from your everyday stuff?” Her mother just looked at her and shook her head. “Yes – I also don’t go to parties very often so I just use my normal stuff, in a different way.” Sam turned her phone toward her and showed her the tutorial she was watching on eye shadow with a hint of glitter and how to maximize your make-up for low light settings. “Jesus, Sam, don’t worry so much about what everyone else thinks and just enjoy yourself.” Sam smirked, “Mom, I am a teenage girl. All I care about is what other people think.”

“Good point,” her mom remarked as she took a forkful of Caesar salad and began to eat. “Are you going to skip dinner tonight too? Just so you can fit in your skinny jeans?” she said, smiling. “Shut up,” Sam said as her face turned beet red. “Did you buy anything today Sam? Or was your shopping adventure with Liz another failed attempt?" Silence befell the room. "Sorry, I should correct that. Did you buy anything and keep it or just return it once Liz was gone?” Sam smiled at her mom; she knew her so well. “Neither. I borrowed a shirt from Liz and will just wear my fancy jeans.” Her mom laughed at the fancy description of a piece of denim. They ate silently and she could tell Sam was anxious as she constantly picked at her eyebrow – one of her nervous ticks. “Sam – are you okay with all of this?" her mother asked, warmly, "You don’t need to go if you don’t want to."

“I need to go,” Sam replied tersely. She didn’t, but she had convinced herself that she did so that she did not try to back out at the last minute.

After dinner, Sam went upstairs and got herself ready. She spent over an hour doing her make-up, which was over an hour longer than she usually did her make-up for. She put on her borrowed top and pulled on her fancy jeans before she text Liz to let her know that she was ready. A few minutes later, Sophie text her, “We are outside! Let’s go!” Sam was surprised. That was quick - who was driving? She grabbed her phone, put it into her black purse and walked down the stairs quickly. She popped her head in the living room where her mom was sitting to tell her she was leaving, “Wow,” her mom said with a smile. “You look beautiful Sam, nice job!” She could feel the warmth as her blood rushed to her face and she blushed. She stared at her mom without responding. She was too nervous to speak as she feared that tears would follow. “Go have fun. Curfew is lifted tonight,” her mom said as she wished her off with a jovial smile. Sam laughed, she never had a curfew because she didn’t really go anywhere. "Thanks Mom. Bye." She breathed deeply as she said her mantra, “It’s one party, it’s one party…” and ran out the door.

Her phone vibrated as she closed the door behind her but she decided it could wait. When she got to the car, Liz and Sophie were staring at their phones in disbelief. They both looked up at her and smiled, “Looking gorg Sam,” Sophie said looking back down at her phone, "But it’s all for not.” Sam stood still and Sophie continued on, “Party is cancelled. Looks like dingus Dan’s parents didn’t end up going away to their summer house like he thought and they found out about the party. They aren’t happy.” Sam didn’t know whether she should cry tears of joy, or frustration. All of this worry for this? She smiled and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Liz and Sophie were both typing furiously on their phones.

“Fuck it,” she said. Her friends looked at her in surprise and smiled. Liz put the car in park and the three girls walked back toward Sam’s front door. The three girls kicked off their shoes, laughing, and walked into the living room. Sam’s mom looked at them with a surprised look, seeing three smiling faces staring back at her. She took a sip of red wine and looked back down at her book.

“Looks like you didn’t need that curfew after all.”