Outcasts

I don’t even know why I’m going to this stupid dance anyways. I have no idea how to dance and I hate it. I literally have zero friends at this school. I just moved here with my mom after my dad’s death. He was a firefighter in our town and passed away in a burning house. Everyone in my town thought of my dad as the hero for saving the family who’s house burned. I couldn’t go out without someone stopping me without telling me how “amazing of a person” my father was. I knew that. But he’s gone now. Maybe it’s selfish of me to want my dad, but he did save that family at the cost of his own being torn apart. I’m an only child so our family is even smaller now. My mom tries to make things feel as normal as she can but that can be hard when this town and the people in it remind us every 5 seconds. She tries to act happy around me and put up a front but I know that when she’s alone her grief suffocates her. We couldn’t continue living here when anytime we go out people can’t hide their pity for us. She knew we had to move to somewhere new if we wanted to move forward with life and feel okay again.

So here I am, getting ready. My mom works at a grocery store in our new town so we obviously don’t have a lot of money so I’m wearing my mom’s old prom dress. It’s a bit...old-fashioned, to say the least. It’s a faded pink A-line dress with some beading on the neckline with flowy fabric. It’s not nearly as form-fitting and short as the dresses other girls are wearing from Windsor or Forever 21 (if you’re on a budget). My makeup is nonexistent really. My mom is sort of a no-makeup kind of gal (she would always cry it off so she didn’t see a point in putting it on anymore after a while) so all I have on is some lip gloss and blush. And that’s my look for the Kentwood High School Homecoming Dance. Let’s get this over with.

As soon as I get there all I see are horny teenagers grinding nervously to the blaring rap and R&B stylings of DJ TurnUp from the “famous” 104.20. Impressive, really. I clearly do not want to partake in the sweaty coming-of-age dance ritual so I go to sit with the other outcasts of the school in the chairs that are around the perimeter of the gym. I look out to the crowd. Everyone looks so sweaty and uncomfortable. If I’m being honest, it’s pretty entertaining to watch everyone trying so hard to do what they think they’re supposed to do and looking so unsure of themselves. The girls are nervously trying to figure out how to twerk the right way and dance sexily, while the boys’ hands fumble around the girls waist as they try not to concentrate on the major boner in their pants at the moment. I feel bad for them really. They’re trying so hard to impress each other but if they really talked to each other and admitted that neither of them wanted to do this (well maybe the boys don’t mind a girl grinding on them haha) then they could just both do something that they actually enjoyed. Alas, that will never happen because when has anyone said what they truly felt? 

However, as I sit here criticizing them I can’t help but think I’m no better than them right? Look at me, just sitting here. I know I’m secretly envious of them. I want to be like them and a part of them, that’s why I’m here isn’t it? I got ready because I wanted people to see me and gawk at me just like I’m gawking at everyone else. Even if they’re being ridiculous, they’re trying, that’s more than I can say about myself. I don’t even make the effort to be a part of their world because the reality is that I’m too scared. I fear being rejected from their world so I reject them first Instead, I sit here on the sidelines getting lost in my own thoughts. Why did I even come here?

“I don’t even know why I came here.”

I look over and there’s is a boy leaning up against the wall next to me. He’s a redhead with surprisingly tan skin, lanky but muscular, and he has that “rebellious boy” demeanor about him. The more I look at him the more interesting he becomes. He has very masculine yet fine (almost feline) features, but the star of his face are his big brown (almost red) eyes.  

“Uhh, do you not speak?” he says chuckling uncomfortably.

“Oh! Yeah sorry! I just got a bit distracted by your face” I blurted.

TANYA WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU SAY THAT?

“My face? Ahh! Um.” 

He turned away quickly blushing, not knowing what to say and clearly embarrassed. I looked away quickly after embarrassed too. We sat there in silence for what felt like forever, neither of us wanting to acknowledge what just happened.  

“So um. What’s your name orange-top?”

“Wow, very original. Kaden. You?”

“Tanya.”

“I think you’re in my homeroom, aren’t you the new girl?”

“Yeah, aren’t you the new kid too?”

“Yep, and that’s actually why I’m here. My dad thought the dance would be a fantastic place to meet friends but little does he know that dances are just an excuse for horny teenagers to rub up on each other.”

“HAHAHAHA!” 

Kaden looked over to me in surprise. It’s almost as if he didn’t realize he had said something funny. I couldn’t stop laughing because it was so true and I had said the same thing like 10 minutes earlier. I looked over at him. 

“Well, Kaden usually I would agree. But I don’t know if that’s necessarily true because you met me and I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Still looking at me, Kaden smiles.