The glare from the sun was shielded from the top of my cowgirl hat as I stared at the green grass below. No one I knew wore hats like these. The only true reason I wore them was because it was a gift from my early-childhood friend who sadly moved  away  when I was in my preteens. Growing up in the south, I learned to tolerate the sun and its torturous brightness. It was not the sun’s common beam of light that caused me to hide my face from the open air, it was my unusual grinning.
Thinking about this one boy made me smile unwillingly, his proud features boldly set in my head. I was too embarrassed to show my face to my dad, who was arguing with Uncle Jack. He would try to yell some sense back into me with his low, stern voice that could scare off a cougar.
“God damn, Jack. What the hell is wrong with ya? What’s wrong with that house?” he yelled, pointing steadily at my uncle's small house. His face was red with anger, and his eyes stared at my fat uncle’s unforgiving face.
“I’m telling you, George, I just can’t stay here anymore. I need to be near my family back in Burnsdale,” Uncle Jack shrugged, placing his hands solidly on his white-washed jeans.
“What the hell are you talking about!  You love it here! Come on, you’re family. Tell him, Clara, don’t you enjoy havin’ your uncle here?” my father defended.
Without presenting my vulnerable face, I replied. “Yes, sir,” I mumbled into my chest. Honestly, I was delighted they were finally staging this argument. For the past five months, my Uncle lived across the street from our cozy little white house with his brown shack that insulted our street, with his ragged lawn and trash piling up outside of the house, causing a revolting, rancid smell that everyone tried to ignore. He barely even lived there, he mostly stayed here in our house to see my dad. My uncle was a stereotyped hick.
As soon as my Uncle moved in, I was miserable. Uncle Jack ordered me around like my father, and I found myself doing more chores around the house than I could ever imagine. He criticized everything I did, telling me I did it the wrong way. Uncle Jack did not even own the place, but he just told me to do it because it was “daddy's orders.” I hated him. My best friend Maddy knew that fact and tried to make some light of the subject. “You going to go help your Uncle Jack off a horse?” she'd say. Even though it was amusing to make fun of his name, I despised his living here.
My dad was the only one who saw something good in him, that fellow. I knew it was just brotherly love, we all knew that but we never brought it up with him. My mom was too afraid to upset him, since my dad is known to throw a fit like a toddler and get as violent as a grizzly bear.
“I can't, I'm sorry. It just didn't work out here. I'm divorced, George. I shouldn't be working on your property, I should be looking for another woman,” my uncle stated.
“You—you idiot! You're not a brother to me! God!” my dad bellowed, stomping his boot on the grass as he yelled obscenities in phrases I've never heard before.
“I better get going. I'll see you later,” my Uncle nodded, trotting over to the truck.
“Fine, you gassed-up piece of shit!” dad roared.
I laughed at their argument, but still focused my attention on the boy I liked, sighing and obsessing. The prince of my dreams was named Darell, a dark-haired, rebellious teenager who sat in the far left corner of my 10th grade Science class. Despite his attempts to be hidden in the shadows of the other classmate's attention, I still noticed him. I never talked to him, to make eye contact with him is even enough to make my cheeks red. Something about the way he never talked in class and would instead tune the lectures out with his iPod made me swoon. I loved boys who did not follow the rules, kids who went by their own rules and did not care about the consequences. Darell was all of that, you could get that vibe from his that it was his nature. My friends advised me to try to talk to him, casually slipping in the fact that I felt something for him in a conversation, but I could not, would not, and should not. I was still building up the courage to talk to him.

Over the next few weeks, after my Uncle moved out, construction started on the house. The brown shack was completely torn down, and a new house was built in its place, and I could already tell by glancing at it out my window that it was going to be a lot nicer than the old one that stood there. My parents said it would be finished in three months, but it was finished early, so Maddy and I decided to check it out for the first time after completion.
“Probably some rich people moving in,” Maddy suggested solemnly, straddling over the one-foot fence that surrounded my front lawn.
“Probaly, but why would they want to move in a place like this? Barely anyone lives here, my neighbor's aren't even a stone's throw away,” I pointed out, following her trail to gawk at the new house.
“'Cuz the land is cheap. You can build a fancy house like that if you have cheap land. It may stick out too much, but it works.”
Ignoring her reasoning, I quipped, “I don't want any rich people living near us.” I moved the strand of my brown hair covering my eye behind my ears. “My aunt's rich and she's mean.”
“Not all rich people are mean, Clara,” Maddy snarled, stopping dead in her tracks.                               “Just like not all of the people from the south are rednecks like your dad or your uncle.”
I glanced up at the house, interested. “It is nice, I guess...”
It was two stories tall, but wider than most houses I've seen, with an arch entrance and Roman-style poles on the front porch. It was a nice blue color, not too light but not too dark, one that complemented the black shutters of the windows that were arrayed on the front. “It's not that big or different from any of the houses on this street, actually.”
“It isn't,” Maddy agreed, brushing dirt off of her red shirt. “See? It fits in. It may be a little bigger...I wonder when your new neighbors are moving in,” she trailed into thought.
“I don't know, and I don't care. I will leave them alone if they leave me alone.”
Maddy breathed out her nose and stared at the house without fluttering her eyes in a blink. “Well, I hope they're nice people. And think on the bright side—no more Uncle Jack to push you around and steal your money,” she stated in her raspy voice., her freckles enhancing her features. She was right, too, my Uncle stole my money. I did not bring it up with him or anyone except Maddy, and I could tell because the money under my mattress disappeared, like a reverse tooth fairy.

The next day was Monday, and as much I loved school, I hated Monday. The only thing that made it possible for me to even slightly look forward to this Monday was that I had Science class first period. It was another morning I could stare at my secret crush, without making any progress on my chance to go out with him. I became a master at enjoying his presence without him noticing me at all.
It was an almost daily routine, I would occasionally glance at him with sparkles of lust and attraction in my eyes, and if he dared to make eye contact, I would wander my eyes aimlessly around the room as if I wasn't even trying to look at him. Something told me he knew, something about the way he smiled back at me in a friendly yet suspicious way that got me nervous and uneasy, shifting in my seat and trying to get my muscles to behave enough to return the grin without giggling and disrupting the class. This whole ordeal happened every day I had Science, and my friends teased me about it all the time.
It wasn't until Friday that I approached him for the first time, my friends guarding me and making sure that I was able to pursue my childhood goal of three years without chickening out. It was after school, and Maddy and my other best friend, Lee were snickering, grabbing my arms against my will and trying to push me to his locker, knowing he was due to switch his books within moments. Honestly, they acted like I liked him a lot more than I really did. I did have a major crush on him, but I didn't like him enough to ask him out myself. I wanted him to do it, even if the possibility of that was smaller than the possibility of me getting an A in Science.
“Just say hi,” Lee encouraged, letting go of my arm with her tight grasp of her dry hands.
“You don't even have to ask him out, just let him know that you exist,” Maddy added, leaning up against her locker without any sense of balance, slipping a bit.
“He...he knows I exist, I know that,” I nervously concluded. “I don't know what he thinks of me. What if he doesn't, and hates me? I don't know about this, I'm going to go home.” I hid my face with my chin supported on my chest, staring down at my jeans and small belly that gave out a tiny bulge against my green t-shirt. I hated my stomach, it wasn't big and I wasn't fat but I knew I could still stand to lose weight. But that only proved to me that the media's attempts to make average-sized people hate their body worked.
With the chatter of the other kids drowning out my small excuses like a stampede of bison, they disregarded what I said and still encouraged me.
“Here he comes, just don't get too nervous and pretend he's like everyone else here.”
“Damn you guys, damn you all,” I whispered, noticing him and immediately feeling the urge to bolt.
My confident friends stared at me with their ambitions stated in their eyes, smiling and showing the detail that they were biting their tongues.
“Hi, Darrel,” I choked, as he opened his locker to receive his black-single strapped backpack.
“Uh,” he stared up at me with a hint of confusion but quickly concluded who I was with a glance. “Hi...Clara.”
It was a fact I had to face: I had no skills or experience in talking to boys I like. When I had my first kiss back in first grade, out in the playground with my “boyfriend,” I almost had an accident from nervousness and anxiousness, even if it was only a quick-second experience. Every kid at school made fun of me for the next few months, unconsciously destroying my trust in them and making me fearful of relationships that went further then friendships.
I attempted to make it not too obvious the sole reason I was there was to confront him for the first time, staring at him with my watering eyes and quivering fingers. It was no use, however. My two guards were conversing with each other, and I was left to fend for myself.
“So...what period do you have first tomorrow morning?” I shrugged, attempting to strike up a conversation without looking like an idiot, which, obviously, I failed at.
“Er, English,” he responded, closing his locker. “I have to go catch my bus, I'll see you,” he nodded, in his beautiful, angelic low voice.
“Okay, good...have a good day,” I choked.
Darell had a concerned look on his face. “You alright?”
“I'm fine.”
He knitted his brow until his expression showed that he was content. “Okay...I'll talk to you later. See you at the dance, I guess.”
I completely forgot about the dance, the March dance. I never went to those things, fearing for rejection and isolation. The boys always wanted a dance with the popular girls, whose stuffed bra threatened the very fabric of the low-cut revealing dress.
I gave a single nod, biting the gums of my the insides of my cheeks. I guess I was going to the dance.
“Oh my God!” I blurted to my friends as soon as I saw him disappear into the sea of high-schoolers. “Don't do that, you guys! Don't try to 'matchmake' people. Just don't.”
Maddy shifted positions to look at me. “So, what? We were going to watch you be miserable and wallow in your obsession for this boy who, excuse me, isn't even that cute?” Her short temper and lack of ability to take situations lightly disturbed everyone.
She was right, and I couldn't argue with her. It is true that I would have never been able to get the courage myself to approach him without excusing myself. But I wanted a more planned out way to do it, and I didn't want it to be so sudden and forceful, I wanted it to be more gradually. But if I have learned anything in the hellish fifteen years of my life, it was that you can't always get what you want.
“You have the dance to look forward to,” Lee shrugged. “Ask him them.”
I nudged Lee on her arm lightly with my elbow. “Lee-e-e, you know I can't do that. I don't go to those dances. And he'll probably already have someone, and plus, I don't want to be one of those girls alone, leaning up against the wall waiting for her prince Charming who will never come,” I excused.
“So what? I'll dance with you. A lot of the girls do that.”
“You mean...” I stopped in the middle of the hallway, a senior brushing up against my arm as his backpack knocked me into Lee a bit. “Like lesbians?”
“No, not at all,” she assured, shaking her head as her groomed-blond hair caressed her cheeks.
It wasn't that I disapproved gay people, it was that I wasn't familiar with any of the gay lifestyle or culture. All I knew was that my dad thought strongly against it, and I figured I had no problem with that, since I had no gay friends or anything like that.
I was convinced, as much as I despised it, to go to the dance. Nothing would go wrong, my friends would assure me. The worse that could happen is Darell would ignore me, they said. I disagreed. The worse that could happen was that I would be left in the corner of the gym, alone, and concealing my tears of rejection as best as I could, while my other friends danced with their sweethearts. Nevertheless, I decided to go, no matter what would happen.

Sunday painfully came, and I spent the whole Saturday thinking about Darrel and worrying about what he thought of me ever since I tried to talk to him. I was calmed down by Sunday and was able to take my mind off of him enough for breakfast.
“The new neighbors arrived yesterday,” my mom alerted me, handing me a plate of nicely-cooked Sunday brunch. I stared up at her, noticing her curly brown hair that reminded me of a bird's nest appeared to be less curly this morning.
“Really,” I yawned.
“They're nice, I spoke to the dad. Apparently, they're from Chicago,” she continued, grabbing the wooden chair next to me and setting herself down on it.
I sipped my orange juice, which was just the way I liked it, with some pulp. “Why would they want to move here?”
“They...” mom glanced up at the plaster ceiling, trying to remember the details. “They moved here for work reasons, I think. Some sort of car dealership promotion or something.”
I tried to make sense of that, but I wasn't able to. I knew there was a huge dealership down the road, but there is no reason for someone to make a extraordinary move like that to get there. “How can that work?” I asked, taking my first bite and ignoring the morsels of food that dropped from my mouth.
“He's the new owner. He used to live around here and he's been waiting for that to open up for years, he says, but he stayed in Chicago to work with the other Ford dealership,” my mom stated, and that was the end of that conversation.
I didn't reply to any of that and instead continued to wolf my food down like a starving, meatless animal in dire need of nutrition.
“They have a kid, named Jamie. I think he's 15, or 16. I don't know,” my mom added, picking at her blood-red nail polish.
“A kid? Wow, we haven't had another kid on this street for ages. Maddy is the only one I know of, and me and my brother, of course,” I thought out loud.
“Well, you're meeting him tomorrow. They invited us over, for dinner,” she announced.
I put my fork down and stared at her with my eyes looking like the eyes of a blood-thirsty panther. “What? You know tomorrow is the school dance, right?”
“I thought you hated those things,” she said, looking up at me.
“I want to go this year,” I sighed, pushing my plate away, satisfied.
“I thought you hated those things,” she repeated, with an edge and sternness in her voice.
“Mom, I don't. Well, I did, but—but I want to go this year,” I shrugged, returning her piercing stare.
“What time is the dance?” mom calmly asked, leaning against the back of the chair.
“Not sure...I think, I think—s....s—seven.”
“The dinner is at six-thirty. Here, you can go to dinner with us,  and after dinner, go to the dance. I won't ask you to stay that long,” she  proposed.
“Fine,” I agreed, getting up from the table.
“Yep. You need a ride? Money?” she asked, glancing at me.
“No, Maddy's got me covered,” I sighed, kicking the chair in with an unusually strong force, causing it to collapse onto the floor and cause a noise that startled my mom.
“Shi—oops, sorry,” I frowned. My mom glared at me, as I scrambled it up and headed off to church.

My dad was one of the strangest people I knew in my life. He was a big guy, one of those guys you see who you know has a lifestyle that consisted of a lot of meat and toughness. My dad was no exception, he fitted into that category perfectly. The only trait that he lacked from that stereotype was hatred towards me and my mom. He wasn't an aggravated, brutish ogre who hated woman, one of the most offensive misconceptions I know. He was sweet to my mom and me, and I had no reason to fear him because I knew that deep within his tough, ragged exterior, there was an affectionate frail man, or something cheesy like that.
By no means, however, was he a nice man toward everyone. I've heard of him beating a friend up for ogling my mom, when all his friend was doing was trying to be friendly toward her with a nice, compassionate smile. My dad took everything the wrong way—especially when it came to any member of my family: me, my mom, or my brother, who moved away to college last summer. Even still, everyone has a flaw, and I guess no one was perfect, a lesson my mom tried to teach me by finding the fault in everyone I knew.
My dad never made a good first impression, people were usually intimidated by his looks and he found it hard to trust anyone he didn't know. He'd scratch his stubble, as if inspecting them and then just say a monotonic “hi.” This is the reason he didn't have many friends. This is the reason I felt sympathy for him whenever he did something heart-felt toward my family, if only he was like that toward other people. This is the reason his behavior that night when we met the neighbors shocked my mom and I.

“Just act your best, Clara,” my mom suggested, fixing the collar of my plain white shirt. “And remember that first impressions count a lot.” I could tell that she was wishing with me that my dad would catch that. “Just be nice to the Chase's.”
She rang the doorbell, and I felt the loudness of it ring in my chest. I was embarrassed, I wasn't use to meeting people while I was dressed up. The only time I dressed up was when we went on a nice outing, or disdainfully met up with my snobby, upper class Aunt.
“Hi! You must be the new neighbors,” a man greeted, opening the door. He was friendly, too friendly and I felt intimidated and pressured just to be as nice as he was. He  had that car-dealer look, a convincing look that warmed you up and made you feel like you can trust him with your soul in his bare hands. His combed over shiny brown hair and his valuable smile complimented everything about him.
“Hello, nice to see ya!” my dad greeted, grabbing his hand firmly and giving it a shake. Mom and I stared in confusion and admiration as my dad treated our town's new resident like a long-time friend.
After my dad was fully welcomed by Mr. Chase, as I called him, he shook my hand. His hand was cold, and his grasp was hard but I still managed to shake it and fake a smile that got his approval. “I'm Clara.”
“Come on in, my wife's in there,” he said. His voice tone dropped a bit, but his enthusiasm still lingered and peppered the warm, Texas air.
I entered the house, questioning my dad's friendliness toward the neighbor. I guess he changed, I shrugged to myself. I guess he finally realized how important impressions were, and how being friendly worked better than being restricted and shy. I smiled to myself, keeping my hands sheltered in the pockets of my black dress. He changed, I thought. He's becoming a better person, and he was already a pretty great dad.
I glanced around the house after convincing myself my dad's improvement. It was
bluntly obvious that they just moved in. There were still boxes, and the house looked plain inside. Somehow, though, it managed to calm me down. I was nervous, I was nervous that they would harshly judge me from the way I was obviously dressed up to give off the notion that I was something I wasn't. They knew I wasn't a rich family, and they knew that they were a little foreign to us here.
The wife shyly yelped, “hello.” I shot my head up to return it with a smile. Her hair was beautiful and blond, with a hint of a wave in it and her makeup was subtle but noticeable. Even still, she looked like one of those 40 year olds who look too young for them, and would probably make my mom jealous. I could already imagine the conversation she'd strike up when we were alone. “She's trying too hard,” or “I bet she doesn't even know how to cook.”
“Are you Clara?” she asked, walking over to me as her high heels mimicked the sound of a horse walking through a trail.
“I am,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Well, I'm Mrs. Chase. And it's nice to meet you.”  Before I was able to return her  kind greeting, she continued. “I'm guessing you want to meet Jamie.”
“Sure, Mrs. Chase,” I replied, remembering how hard I was pushed to use my mannerisms.
“Jamie? They're here,” she called up, leaning on the wood-finished stair railing.
I pictured him in my mind. I pictured him the way this kid from school looked like who was from an urban culture, with overly-groomed blond hair, a charming, mesmerizing white smile, and a body of an athlete.
Instead, a girl trotted down the stairs. I was wrong, I expected a boy in the neighborhood, we needed one. “Damnit,” I whispered to myself. But I was silenced when I saw her. Something was different, something about the way she grinned at me in a way that made me feel as if I knew her. She was pretty, but not in the way that most girls in my class were. She looked like she had more of a personality of her own, that she didn't care about the way the world perceived her and judged her.
Jamie's hair reminded me of Maddy's, straight, down to her back and brunette. Her eyes were green, and I found it strange I noticed that detail. That was something I noticed in boys. Jamie was thin, but in the same way I was; she wasn't thin in the way all of the girls wanted to be because they were falsely educated by TV that they were supposed to anorexic, but thin in the way that she had curves and a healthy figure. She was different, she was beautiful, beautiful in the way that I envied her.
I clenched my fists and breathed, “hi.” I wanted to go. I wanted to go to the dance, I was anticipating Darell, my friends, and everyone else.
Jamie was shy, she merely smiled and looked at me like I was something new and strange to her.
“Jamie's going to the dance tonight, I hope you know,” Mrs. Chase said. “She's leaving in a few minutes, so she can't be here tonight for dinner. But I heard you're going, too, so you'll definitely see her there, don't worry.”
What? I thought. That's not fair, it's not fair I had to stay for dinner here and she can go off to the dance. I want to meet her, I want to talk to her, it's nice to have someone new on the block. I nodded my head, biting my lip and trying not to start a screaming fit at my parents.
“I'll see you there,” I heard Jamie say in a nicely toned voice.
“Okay,” I sighed, eyeballing my parents.
“Mom,” I growled through my teeth, tugging at her dress gently. “Can I please, please go?”
“No, you told me you'd stay here,” she defended.
“But Jamie's going.”
“I don't care,” she whispered. “You'll stay here and you'll talk, you'll be polite, and you'll get to know these people better. End of discussion.” She resumed her over-exposed smiling at the neighbors.
“Mom!” I repeated, raising my tone.
“What!” she snapped, giving her head a slight, angry nod.
“I think I should get to know Jamie better. I mean, she's going to be at school, and who knows, maybe I could make a friend? So why don't I just go with her to the dance and just see the neighbors later? It's not like I'll ever see them,” I huffed, twirling my dress around.
She sighed, gyrating her eyes around and glaring back at me. “Let me ask them if it's okay.”
I smiled at her and bowed my head a bit, attempting to look like the perfect, model child in front of the neighbors—even if they did know I was anything but that.
I stared at Jamie, who returned the stare with a curious interest. “You from Chicago?” I started.
“Yes...” she looked around as if she was pondering the next thing to say to me to start a conversation. “It's nice there.”
“Well,” I grinned, holding my hand out. “I'm sure you'll be just fine here. The kids are nice, and I'll make sure you'll get along with my friends. I'm Clara, as you know.”
Jamie grabbed my hand. Unlike her fathers, her grip was soft and loose, as if she was a little nervous and aggravated in this new environment. “Nice to meet you, and thanks.”
“I'm wondering, why are you going to the dance? I mean, if you wanted to meet new people, just go to school...it's—it's not a good thing to go to the dance.” I swallowed and gazed at my shoe, kicking the hardwood floor. I wasn't trying to be mean, I repeated in my head, I'm just helping her.
Jamie was obviously more comfortable. “I like dances, they're fun. Back at my school, everyone went to the dances. No one really danced, either.” She flipped her hair with a nod of her head. “It was just a place to talk to people and stuff. I figured if I went there, I could talk to someone.”
I bit my tongue and nodded. “Okay. Well, you're lucky you got us, otherwise, Jamie, I don't mean to be an ass, but people here don't approach people that much. It's like a fact of life here. They're nice, but shy.”
Jamie didn't respond, and instead shrugged looked right through me with her green eyes that shone.
“My friend Maddy and I will help you meet new people. You know, get some friends, and maybe dance with a few boys,” I gently encouraged. I felt my former uneasiness drift off into the night along with my worries, smiling at her and letting my body relax a bit more.
Jamie's face fell and seemed a little unsure with her agreement. “Yeah.”
“What's wrong?” I asked, noticing a sense of instability in her.
“Nothing,” she weakly smiled.
“Alright. Well, you know, the dance starts in fifteen minutes. You need a ride? How the hell were you expecting to get from here to there if your mom has to host my bonehead parents over there?” I grinned on one side of my face, gesturing my thumb behind my shoulder in the general direction of my parents.
“I was thinking I'd walk,” she shyly said.
I figured out she was a quiet, shy, person who didn't seem comfortable in this new environment. I told myself I needed to get my attitude at a sensible level instead of questioning all of her motives and ways. “I'll give you a ride, don't worry,” I ensured, in a calmer tone.
“Okay,” she squeaked.
I whipped my cell phone out of my dress pocket. Even though my mom warned me that it was rude and obscure to bring my phone with me, I ignored her assertiveness and hid it in my pocket. “Maddy...pick up the da—Maddy? You on your way? No, it starts at seven...you fu—” I gazed at Jamie, who was obviously eavesdropping on my phone conversation, trying to conceal it with her casual glances around the room. “Could you please get us?...Us? Yes, the girl from across the street is coming, if that's alright...no...okay. See you.”
I hid my phone, smiling at Jamie. Her silence and embarrassment was cute. “You're going to like Maddy, I swear.”
“Is she nice?” she asked, in the corner of her own world.
“Yes, she can be a bitch, though. One time, we got into a huge fight over who got to be Lee's partner for a field trip. I won, and for the rest of the week, she didn't talk to me. Lee felt upset, it sucked. Oh, and Lee...Lee is my other friend,” I rambled.
Jamie cocked her head to one side like a confused, innocent puppy. She evidently didn't catch every unorganized word that dropped out of my mouth and smiled. “Is Lee going to be there?”
“She better be,” I giggled, once again staring down at my toes. “She's quiet.”
“When's Maddy going to be here?” she asked, her cheeks red.
“Soon.”
An awkward silence crept in, and she acted as if she was purposely diverting her gaze from me. Either it was nervousness, embarrassment, or she just didn't like me. I was being too rude, and I was expecting too much, I told myself.
“Let's go outside,” I swallowed. “I'm sure she's here by now.”
Jamie smiled at me and walked out the door, timidly looking back at me to observe if I was following her. “I'm right behind you.”


“Where are you from?” Maddy asked Jamie from the front seat of her sedan.
“Chicago,” she yawned, staring out the window into the darkness.
“Nice. That's a long way away,” Maddy obviously stated.
“No crap,” I chuckled, slapping her arm from the back seat.
“Shut up, Clara.”
“It's nice here,” Jamie spoke up. “It's really cold in Chicago.”
“Like, is it windy?” Maddy asked, staring blankly out the windshield, referring to Chicago's reputation.
“It is windy, but that's not why it's called 'The Windy City.' It's called that because of windbags, you know, back in the days.”
There was a silence that initiated an awkwardness in the boxed-in environment. I looked at Jamie, with the hope that she wouldn't return the stare. I found it strange that something about her lured me into her, and unable to comprehend it logically, I passed it off as a pure desire to make a new friend..

When I paid and entered the premises of the dance, I immediately felt a nervousness crawl down my spine. “I don't want to be here,” I said between my teeth.
“You made a commitment to be here, and so did Darrel. Stay here,” Maddy encouraged.
“I don't want to be here anymore than you do,” Jamie said, trying to join into the first flame of an argument.
“It was a bad idea to come here in the first place,” I snapped.
“God!” Maddy yelled, catching a few glances our way. “You said you would, you said it, Clara, you told us you will, and Darrel is here, I know he is. If he isn't just try to have some fucking fun, alright?”
I glared at her in her formal, black dress that left little to the imagination. “I hate you so much right now,” I growled.
“I love you, too,” she mocked.
I sighed and shifted my focus onto the agitation of Jamie. “She's actually right. You will have fun, just stick with me, trust me.”
“Who's Darrel?” she asked, lowering her brow.
“He's a kid. He's a kid I like,” I breathed, somehow finding it hard to admit it.
“Oh.” Jamie somehow seemed discouraged.
“Where the hell is the music, anyhow?” I asked, looking at the DJ booth.
“We're early. There isn't even a reason for them to le—” the start up of an upbeat song interrupted her. “There you go,” she yelled.
The music calmed me down a bit, but I really couldn't say the same for Jamie, judging by her nervous glances around.
“Jamie,” I projected.
“What!”
“Are you sure you want to be here? Do you even go to this school?”
“I do, I'm going here tomorrow for the first time. I think this was...” Jamie's volume started to decrease.
“What?”
“I think this was a bad idea!” she yelled over.
“Crap, look at all of those kids,” I said, huddling toward a quiet corner. “Dancing with their boyfriends and girlfriends like such obnoxious sluts.”
“Chill out. It's fine. Darrel's just probably getting here. Wait it out, and while you're at it, just enjoy some food and drink or something, or just hang out. You don't have to dance, you can go in the hallway and sit,” Maddy compromised.
“The hell I will, I'm too nervous.”
“You're staying. I have your ride home and I won't let you leave. I just want you to give it a chance. Talk to him. Maybe he'll dance with you, maybe more. If he doesn't seem interested, then oh well, I'll take you home if you want. But that's it, just do that, that's all I ask for.” Her determination was reflected in the sing-song tone she emitted, and feeling my heart beat in my chest, I agreed.
“Good.”

It was painful, staying through the dance, but I couldn't refuse the fact that I was having a better time then I thought. In a few songs, I did dance with Maddy, Lee being no where to be seen, and once I persuaded Jamie into the unexpected joy of dancing, she seemed to be very enthusiastic with her moves and attitude. I needed to listen to people more, I decided. I needed to be more open-minded with suggestions and offers.
Even still, with all of the excitement that caught up with me and beat the clock, I was exhausted after an hour. I still saw no signs of Darrel, who I assumed was just joking around or something in that context when he said he'd meet me at the dance.

“I'm going home,” I yawned. I forgot about Darrel at this point, adjusting my shoes.
“Sounds good,” Maddy agreed.
“Okay,” Jamie smiled.
“Is that him?” Maddy asked, pointing out into the mix of high schoolers bundled into one pile of flailing limbs.
“I can't...I...Oh my God, it is. Get me out of here,” I panicked, all of my instincts rushing to me at once as I clenched onto Maddy's dress. Or, I assumed it was, but soon discovering it was Jamie's, quickly let go and gave an apology.
“You said you would, and you will,” Maddy enforced. “I'm watching you.”
Jamie was forced into Maddy's views, nodding along and giving me a convincing grin.
“Fine. I'm so nervous, though,” I swallowed.
“Don't be. Just talk.”
“You guys will pay hell if he does something bad,” I ensured.
“What will he do? Make fun of you?”
“No, think I'm a complete loser,” I supported.
“Just go!”

Shoving through the field of kids, I concluded that it was in fact Darrel. He was dancing, but by himself, no girlfriend or female companion in sight.
“Darrel,” I spoke softly so he wouldn't hear me.
“Wha—yes?” he responded, stopping his dancing.
Crap, I thought. But here I was, stationed in my battle position and I had to take the stand, I had to go through with it and take the risk of failing my entire self-esteem and confidence, and destroying the man of my desire's respect for me. But I was speechless, I had absolutely nothing to follow up my greeting with. “Hi.”
“Hi, Clara.”
He knew my name! That fact made my heart jump with happiness and motivation. I glanced over to see Maddy and Jamie leaning up against the wall next to the door.
“You're dancing alone,” I noted, gasping for breath.
“I am. I have no girl to dance with.” Darrel was eased and smiled at me.
“Me? Can—I—dance?” I asked, feeling three years of obsession and thought come right out of me in a single request.
“Of course.”
There it was, there was that feeling. A feeling I heard of, not love, not close enough to that, but a feeling of affection and heightened esteem.
I was nervous, and he didn't seem to have a lot of interest in me at first. I had no interest in the way other people saw me at that moment, just how he did, and the longer I went, moving and bouncing to no particular pattern, the more he seemed to like it.
This had to be a dream, I thought, syncing myself to his dance. Even if it was far fetched, spontaneous, and suspicious, it wasn't. This was the happiest day of my life, this is the product of a work three years into the making.
Something was wrong, though, and that fact nagged me in the back of my head. Something about the lack of conversation and communication we needed to get to this point was oddly suspicious. He seemed eager, almost as eager as I did.
“It's too loud here,” he yelled, grabbing my shoulder to halt all of my uncoordinated dancing.
“So? It's a dance!” I screamed, swooning at the feel of his hand. I stared at him, onto his white, neat shirt that covered his frame. His hair was out of his eyes for the first time in a few months, and even though it was too dark to make out any distinctions, I was able to see the beauty in them.
“We can't talk in a loud place,” he said, leaning in closer.
My heart skipped a beat, my whole existence and life flashed before my eyes as I felt the urge to jump up. “Talk?”
“Yeah,” he said softer.
I stared at the spot I last saw my friends, who disappeared into the crowed. At this point, I had butterflies in my stomach, giant, man-eating butterflies. “Okay,” I gasped.

I never knew this side of him. I never expected anything to go this fast, this was way too sudden and I felt the need to throw up. He led me out into the hallway, leaning up against the wall with too many spectators around us to go too far.
“I don't really like dances,” he admitted, looking at me. “They're weird, seeing people you know from school dance in suggestive ways you've never see them do, or never imaged them to.”
“I know...but...I came because, you know, I wanted to just see what it's all about,” I lied.
Darrel stared at me. “Uh-huh. Me too.”
My enthusiasm of the night disappeared, along with my dignity and self-respect. I truly thought he liked it, and I felt like I was to blame. It was my fault he didn't like them, he was just dancing with me to make me feel better, all of these accusations piled up in a big heap in my conscious.
“You look nice tonight,” I squeezed out of myself, biting my nails with anxiety. I wanted to leave, and I wanted to know where my friends were. I knew, however, that it was my time to make my own risks without having my friends to back me up on them.
“Thanks. I don't like dressing up, it makes me feel weird and stuff. I prefer just comfortable clothing. Whoever thought up this formally-dressed rule is a dipshit.”
“Yeah, it sucks.” I waited for him to say something nice about me, leaning up next to him but making sure I didn't touch him.
“But it's alright. You look pretty, though,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Oh, this dress? I bought it at Wal-Mart, it's not that great. I was going to wear one tonight that used to be my mom's for the prom, but she couldn't find it,” I explained, biting my gums and praying to survive this night.
“Oh. But I wasn't talking about the dress, I was talking about you.”
I stared at him with a spark of attraction. “Really? Well, I...I don't think so...I mean, my self-confidence is just way too low.”
“Mine too, but that doesn't mean I'm a bad person. You really do need a higher self-confidence.” Darrel shifted and stood up straight. “You're a better person than you think you are. I know you have a low self-esteem, but it takes a lot of guts, too, to dance  like that.”
“Are you saying I was a bad dancer?”
Darrel laughed and I smiled a little. “No, I'm saying that you were a good dancer and most people I know wouldn't just start dancing like that.”
“Clara?”
“What!” I snapped, looking behind me and seeing Jamie. “Oh, hi.”
Jamie had the manners and common sense to not praise me for getting Darrel in front of him. “Oh, I, Maddy's leaving soon.”
“I'll be right there,” I nodded.
“Okay, well, I'll be—“
“I'll be right there!” I glared at her with a growl, seeing her smile and happiness drop down. She looked at me with fear in her eyes, and her face turned red. She nodded and turned away.
I looked at Darrel, smiling, but he wasn't. I immediately felt remorse for my quick temper snap, but turning around to apologize, she wasn't there.
“Oh, I hope she didn't take that too personally. It's nothing against her.”
“She's new, isn't she?” he asked, tilting his head back to the wall.
“She's my new neighbor, yeah.”
Darrel shook his head. “I'm sure she'll forgive you for snapping at her. Everyone does it once in a while.” He tried to settle my nerves with a smile, but wasn't able to succeed as thoughts of regret and anger occurred.
“God, she's new, too. She just wants a friend.”
“You're a good friend, she'll forgive you.” I felt his hand grasp mine gently.
“How so?” I asked, squeezing his hand.
“Because most people I know wouldn't befriend a new person, all of the dicks in this school just despise anyone new. Look at her, too, she's pretty.” I didn't see the point in adding that last irrelevant fact, but I nodded.
I scanned the room, realizing the lack of students. “Where the hell did everyone go?”
“I don't know, fast song, people like that,” he said.
“We're alone,” I thought out loud. He perceived that as an invitation to lean closer to me, but I was saying it out loud as sort of a reminded to myself.
“Yeah, isn't it nice?” he smiled, looking at me.
I felt my stomach turn, I felt the urge to throw up and humiliate myself in front of my crush. “It is nice.”
He stared into my eyes, and shifted himself in an angle that was facing toward me. I knew what was going to happen, I felt it in my veins and stomach, I felt cold and tensed as he grabbed my other hand.
A nag in my conscious continued through my mind, kiss him, do it. I wet my lips and hoped to God that no interruptions would ruin this perfect moment, and forever destroy every feeling I had right now. In a moment of ecstasy, my dreams were fulfilled as our lips joined.
I've seen so many romantic movies, I knew what to expect but the spontaneousness of this occurrence cleared my memory of everything to do. I let myself take it naturally, standing as stiff as a statue and letting him do it all. But his efforts weren't strong, and all he did was stand there with his lips pressed up against mine. My eyes shut tight, my toes curled in my tight-dress shoes, and my hands constricted his rough fingers. It tasted good, I noted, withdrawing from his face and staring at him with a renewed energy.
“Uhmm,” I swallowed. “Wow.” Wordless, I relaxed my hands and let them drop to my sides.
“ Yeah, wow.”
Suddenly, I felt like he was judging every muscle movement and word that came out of my mouth. “I think I should go.”
“Why?” he asked, his smile fading.
“Because, I—that was great, believe me, but I was going to go home, anyway, and you know I—I just—”
“I understand completely,” he smiled, placing his cold finger on my wet lips.
“Thanks,” I nervously smiled, setting off to find my friends.
Something about that felt weird—as if I was betraying someone. I felt insecure, I felt as if the kiss signaled me that he wasn't the right one to kiss.