Petrichor

There was something weirdly calming about a good thunderstorm. Not the kind of storm that rolled in, grumbled a few times, and left without much fanfare. No, the kind of thunder that shakes the foundations, the lightning that illuminates the entire sky, the rain that lashes against the window so hard the glass might shatter. The kind of thunderstorm you feel in your bones hours before it arrives, the petrichor the only physical sign that something is wrong. Chaotic and powerful, and so very dangerous, yet somehow… there’s something about the particular brand of anarchy a thunderstorm brings that feels almost peaceful. Maybe it’s the blanket of clouds darkening the entire sky, broken up by brilliant flashes of light, or maybe it’s the fact that when the outside is as wild and untamed as it is, Ellie doesn’t feel as torn up or broken inside.

Ellie has always felt like she was born a little wrong. That she didn’t have all the same pieces that everyone else did, or perhaps she did and they were just put together slightly wrong. Like a Rubik’s cube with a single square out of place. Her head just didn’t seem to work the same way as her schoolmates; they didn’t seem to worry that everything they said or did would be scrutinised or misconstrued, they seemed to just be able to act without thinking of every single fucking possible consequence. She couldn’t even go to Subway without practicing her order dozens of times in the mirror, yet her friends were somewhere new every day, chatting to strangers at the local pubs. Meanwhile, she’d sit alone at home, full of fear that she was missing out on these crucial bonding moments with the people her age, but unable to move from her bed, paralysed by her own head.

If she really thought about it, which she had (rather frequently in fact), she wasn’t even sure how she still had friends. At school, she spent way more time with her head in a book than she did chatting. Not because the books she read were particularly interesting, but simply because by the time she’d thought through her response to something that Perry had said, the topic had moved on at least three times. She’d replay every conversation she had that day in the shower at night, thinking about how she could’ve responded better, or even responded at all.

The feeling of being left out due to her own crippling fear was getting tiring; after a full life of it, you really do start to get sick of it. So she’d decided to become more proactive and make more effort with her friends, to push past that little voice that told her they wouldn’t give a fuck about what she had to say, and actually engage in conversation with them. It was actually working; for the first time since she’d known them, they actually sounded sad when she said no to their invitation out. That distinction was what led her to say, “Actually, I will come to Cam’s party on Saturday.”

The main problem with what she said was that Saturday had actually come round. It was much easier to make plans when Saturday was some indistinct time in the future; she had time to make an excuse, or for the party to get cancelled by the thunderstorm that had been raging all day. When she text Cam about it, he said the only thing that changed was the theme; it was now an ‘End of the World’ party. Relatable; this party certainly felt like the End of the World to her. She sat on her bedroom floor, surrounded by her entire wardrobe. None of it was really that party suitable – she had a style that was very comfortable, soft jumpers and leggings for the most part. She didn’t even really know what to wear to a party – she’d watched every season of Skins and about twenty hours’ worth of American teen party movies to try to figure it out, but styles seemed to vary wildly. After consulting with all her friends, Google, and her mother (who was surprisingly supportive of her teenage daughter heading to an unsupervised party full of horny teenagers), she settled on her only pair of black jeans and that one nice top she bought for her cousin’s birthday. It wasn’t very lowcut, but for someone that existed in high neck jumpers it felt nearly pornographic.

The hair and makeup side of things took a while too. Given how much time Ellie spent in her room, she’d had a lot of practice at ‘dolling herself up’ as her grandma would say, and seeing that she didn’t really go out much she had some money saved up so spent it all on expensive makeup. It was one of her main hobbies; she’d find a look on TikTok or Instagram, and then spend hours trying to recreate it. That perfectly honed skill all seemed to go out of the window though the second she sat at her vanity to try and do it, though maybe that was just the anxiety brain kicking in. She kept it pretty simple with her makeup today though; she really didn’t want to stand out too much. She knew she was throwing herself in at the deep end by attending one of Cam’s parties – he was known for going way overboard and letting things get way out of hand – but exposure therapy is probably the best cure, right? Ellie had never even been out for food with her friends and this is her first experience hanging out with them outside of school? This was definitely a bad idea and she should cancel… but no. Because Ellie wanted experiences and fun and good friends, and this was her first step to getting that.

All in all, it took her about 5 hours to get ready. 3 hours for the panic attack, an hour and a half to actually get ready, and then another thirty minutes for another panic attack. The party had started about an hour ago; all her friends were already there, judging from the Instagram stories. In a weird way, that gave her some peace of mind; given the chaos already going on, it was unlikely her absence was noticed, and therefore it was unlikely her late arrival would even really be noticed. Cam only lived 5 minutes away from her anyway, so it wasn’t too much of a trek for her to get there. Grabbing the bottle of vodka her mum bought for her (she really was way too excited about her daughter going to a party), she checked her bag for the 8^th time that night to make sure she had everything; she already knew she did, but it just helped her to calm down.

After another 20 minutes of pacing, there was really no more excuses to stop her from leaving the house. Saying goodbye to her mum, she left the house, locking the door behind her. This was it. This was her first party. This was her first stepping stone to a more fulfilling life, with friends and a social life. With that thought, she set off with a spring in her step. The voice in her head actually shut up for once, letting her have just a moment of happiness before she reached Cam’s front gate. That’s when it decided to speak up again.

“If you wanted to have a shit time, you should’ve just stayed at home; at least there you can do it in pajamas,” it said, somehow having a snide tone of voice in spite of it being her own inner monologue. “You’re not exactly the life of the fucking party, are you now?”

“Yeah, well, maybe tonight I am.” She said to herself quietly, smiling softly. Maybe she could be a thunderstorm. She didn’t necessarily have to be the thunder or the lightning, maybe she just had to be that quiet peace she felt when one was overhead. And with that thought, she stepped into the party.