I haven't really come up with a title for this yet, but, hey, it's not all that necessary. I wrote this story for a writing class i'm in this semester, and I just thought I'd see what people think about it.
The inspiration behind it is that I was talking to some of my friends about them going to prom (they're seniors and they're way excited, it's so cute) and I remembered how it was to be in high school (yes, I am only 20, but i'm feeling way old compared to my counterparts). I just thought I'd explore those thoughts a bit, so, here is my (very long, sorry) short story!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The buzz of the harsh electric overhead lights is hypnotizing. Once I hear it, I focus my ears on keeping the barely audible hum in my head. The air is tinged with the lingering scent of soft pretzels and expensive clothing. I always find the minutest details the most brilliant. As I walk down the large, cavernous, mall corridor with my friend, Grace, I examine the fine points of the areas surrounding us. Each store has a different front façade. The jeweler on the corner, for instance, has large black and green marble pillars at every entry, and sparkling diamonds in display cases along the walls. Next-door, however, Waldenbooks has a rather plain looking storefront. The large glass windows, which show the inside of the entire store, are bordered by simple, cream-colored stucco.
The mall is rather crowded for a middle-of-April Thursday afternoon. There are several small groups of teenagers walking around, joking, and talking loudly. There are a few overly-happy couples holding hands and smiling at each other in the gropingly grotesque way that only couples can. Mall walkers are in abundance, furiously swinging their hips and elbows as they speed along the tiled floor.
I look at my own shopping companion, Grace. Grace is the kind of girl who looks like she should be prom queen and head cheerleader. In other words, she looks like she would be a total socialite and debutante bitch. However, when she smiles, her entire face changes and you see the beautiful spirit hiding within. Grace is gorgeous, in every sense of the word. Her long, straight, full-of-body and naturally golden blonde hair falls in exactly the right way. That hair sparkles and shimmers every time Grace turns her head the slightest fraction of an inch. Her beautiful blue-grey eyes have the same sparkling effect. They’re framed in thick fringe of long, black eyelashes. Her nose is the image of perfection and so are her tiny, heart-shaped lips. Today Grace is wearing a pair of size 8 jeans that hug her hips and legs flawlessly. She has on a light blue t-shirt that has the same effect as a ball gown when she wears it. Grace is the object of much affection.
“Mae! Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” She turns to me as we walk. I snap out of my observations and try to focus on what it is we’re talking about. “I was asking you if you had thought anymore about prom.” Oh, yeah. That’s right. We had been talking about prom, the annual announcement to the world that I am still a loser. I shudder at the thought of my eminent dateless ness.
“Yeah, I thought about it, and then I stopped.” I say wryly.
“Oh, you are such a buzz kill,” Grace scoffs. “Have you thought about who you’re going to ask?”
“See, that’s the part I don’t get. Back in my mom’s day, the guys did all the asking. Now it’s the girl’s responsibility to ask the guys. It’s just dumb. Next they’re going to expect us to open doors, too. What is happening to our society?” I ramble. Grace rolls her eyes at me. “Of course I’ve thought about who I’m going to ask. However, as I’ve said, after the thinking begins, I stop.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll never have the guts to ask anyone, that’s why I stop.”
“You could easily ask any guy, and I’m sure he’d say yes.” Only she says it like “Duh, silly. I don’t have any trouble getting dates you shouldn’t either.” Grace doesn’t realize that not everyone is as beautiful as she. I think she should know.
“Grace, not everyone is as beautiful and well-loved by the male populous as you are. Every guy prays for an invite from gorgeous Grace, but not from mild Mae.” Grace - insensitive jerk that she is - shakes her shimmering gold locks and laughs.
“Trust me, Mae, my love, you are anything but mild. You’re a total hotty. Guys are just intimidated by your wonderment.” Ok, I was kidding about the insensitive jerk thing. But I still don’t believe her.
“Grace, for as long as I’ve known you, guys have fallen all over your beauty and sparkling personality,” I say, matter-of-factly.
“Is this so? Name one time.” She looks at me, in challenge. I almost laugh at this easily-won challenge.
“Billy Jameson.” I say easily.
“Billy Jameson! Mae! We were in 5th grade!”
“So? You said name one time.” Plus, Billy Jameson had been my crush since the 1st grade. I remember when Billy Jameson broke my heart as well as I remember the shoes I wore yesterday.
There had been a school-wide night at the roller-rink. Grace and I had gone together, as usual. We had been skating on the dim, disco-ball-lighted roller floor when the DJ announced that the next song would be the couple’s skate. I headed to the roller-floor exit, and sat down on one of the benches with a few friends. I was laughing and having a quasi-good time, when Billy Jameson approached.
“Mae,” he had said shyly, “can I talk to you for a second?”
Expectant and excited, I jumped up from the bench and followed him to a quieter area of the benches and tables section. I was all smiles, expecting him to ask me to go on the couple’s skate with him.
“Do you think,” he had started, pausing in the middle, “that you could... like...”
“Yes! Oh yes!” The voice inside my head screamed.
“Ask Grace if she wants to skate the couple’s skate with me?”
Crash. Smash. That sharp, suffocating pain in my chest was my heart breaking. There I had been, ready for all of my dreams to come true, when he had killed my hopes with his words.
Bravely, I delivered the message to Grace, who was so thrilled to be asked to skate by someone new to her entourage, and she accepted his offer. As they skated gleefully around the roller floor to “Save the Best for Last” I found a dank corner of the grungy roller rink to sit in where I could cry away my broken heart.
“Oh you just never let go of anything, do you?” Grace says, snapping me back to the present.
We’re still meandering around the mall, with no real intentions of buying anything. Grace and I do this often, as a stress reliever. Nothing relieves stress better than looking at merchandise you could never afford. I begin to scan the passing crowds and I spot someone. I gasp and stop in my tracks. Grace, who had walked a few more steps before realizing I had stopped, returns to my side.
“What?” She says, attempting to follow my line of sight. She finally catches my vision and smiles. “Oh. Shit, Mae, just get some balls and ask him out.” Before I can ponder the idea of my female friend telling me, also a female, to get some balls, I lose all train of intelligent thought.
The “him” Grace had been referring to is none other than Blake Parker. Blake is the most wonderful human being in town. Not only does he have shaggy brown hair, which I have grown to love, he also has steamy, penetrating green eyes which, even when hidden behind simple grey wire-framed glasses, look straight into your soul every time you are graced with them turning to you. He’s tall, about 6’6”, and moderately muscular. He wears a faded black tee-shirt which simply says “Thursday” across the front in blue lettering. His jeans hang loosely at his hips and fall to the top of his shoes. He is the living, breathing, clothed version of Michelangelo’s David. He is also walking toward Grace and me with a smile on his beautiful face. Oh man, that face!
“Hey, Mae,” he nods to me, “Grace.” He nods to her also. “What are you two doing today?” I try to remember, I really do, but I can’t for the life of me remember what we’re doing.
“We’re just doing some high-class window shopping. How about you?” Grace, the ever self-confident, says with a smile. I just stand there, gazing at his face.
“I’m looking for a new CD. You ever heard of the band Rooney?” He asks, looking first to Grace and then to me. I have their CD, but can I verbalize that? No. I just stand there while Grace turns to me. She gives me an odd glance and rolls her eyes.
“Mae has their CD, don’t you, Mae?” She nudges my elbow.
“Ermgf,” is all I can say. Still, Blake gives me one of those smiles.
“That’s awesome! Which song is your favorite?”
“Ugrm.” I really wow them with my intelligence sometimes. Blake gives me an expression like a person would give an expired carton of milk. Grace painfully elbows me in the ribs. “Blue Side.” I finally spit out.
“No way! That song kicks ass! It’s definitely my favorite, too.” Smile smile smile. “Well, I’d best be going; the store’s going to close soon.” Smile. “I’ll talk to you ladies later.” Smile.
As he walks off, I follow his gorgeous bod until he disappears around a corner. I sigh and recall the verbal exchange which just occurred. Ok. Stop. Some things just shouldn’t be recalled.
“Crap,” I say.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Ms. Sensitivity 2003 smirks.
We walk out of the mall into the blazing hot sun and walk across the hard blacktop parking lot to Grace’s black Chevy Cavalier. It’s parked between two towering red SUV’s that are both parked so close that Grace and I can barely squeeze in through our doors. The interior of Grace’s car is a blue-grey color, faded after years of being parked in the sun. As she turns on the car the radio buzzes, as usual, until it locks on a station. She drives along the city streets, passing gas stations, fast food restaurants and video shops. I roll my window down and gulped in fresh air to help me clear my head, think things through, and regain a wisp of intelligence and the ability to speak.
“How come anytime I talk to him I turn into a stupid idiot?” I say out loud, not really intending to.
“Because you’ve never had the confidence to just stand up and say to a guy ‘Hey, Blake, I like you, and I want to have your babies.’ Am I right?” She smiles at me. I give her a look of mortification. “Ok, maybe the ‘babies’ bit is going a bit far.”
“I don’t get it, I’m one of the most outspoken people I know, but when it comes to speaking with guys I like, I turn into a mute fool.” I look at Grace, who seems to have nothing to say. “I blame this on you.” That seems to give her something to say.
“What!?” Anger, comes to mind when describing her mood. “How?”
“Because of all of the times you’ve stolen guys from me.” So sometimes I am an insensitive jerk.
“What the hell, Mae? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, so many times when I like a guy, we become friends, and next thing I know he asks you out on a date.” I’m starting to feel stupid for bringing this up. I had started out just trying to get a rise out of her, but I don’t feel like it’s such a good idea anymore.
“Oh please, do tell me, barring anything that happened before eight grade, when have I ever taken a guy from you?” She is getting snotty, which isn’t a good sign.
“Well, in tenth grade,” I pause, realizing what I’m getting myself into. We’re nearing my street and will soon be at my house. “I really liked Elliot, remember?” Grace nods slightly, still trying to decide if she should be mad at me. “Well, at Lana’s birthday party, when we were playing Capture-the-Flag, Elliot and I were partners.” I start into the story, sending myself back to that night.
We had been in Lana’s enormous backyard. It was littered with trees and a line of shrubs all around the property line, the perfect place to have a game of Capture-the Flag. Elliot and I had decided to run around together. It had been heavenly. He was my best guy-friend, and I had had a huge crush on him. We had been holding hands, I thought because he liked me. We had eventually gotten captured by the opposing team, and were sent to their jail. When we were sitting in jail, Elliot had turned to me. He had smiled a golden smile and inhaled.
“Mae, do you think Grace likes me?” he had asked, transporting me right back to fifth grade and the roller-rink. It was happening again. I had changed since fifth grade, true, but I felt like I was still the little girl who had ended up crying in a corner when her best friend went skating with her crush. Determined not to let that happen again, I did one of the meanest things of my life to that time.
“No, I don’t think she does.” His face fell, and I immediately felt bad, but not bad enough to offer him any reassurance that maybe she did like him. I had never told Grace what Elliot had said to me, and he had never tried to pursue anything with her.
“Are you serious?” Grace says, after I tell her of my evilness.
“Yes.” Shame on me, shame.
“I can’t believe you didn’t even say anything.” Grace is struggling between disbelief and anger.
“Are you mad?”
“Are you kidding? No.” She seems to change her mind. “Well, I mean, two years ago I might’ve been. But since then, I’ve dated Caleb for two years. I mean, if I had dated Elliot, I would’ve never had these two years with Caleb.” She pulls the car into my driveway. “So, in retrospect, no, I’m not mad.”
We both get out of the car and walk up to my house. It’s a rather simple, but nice, looking house. Set back from the road, the white two-story, is a country house with a spindled wrap around porch. A simple two-car garage is attached to the house.
Grace and I walk into the house and to my bedroom. My walls are a pale, lilac color and my double bed sheets and comforter are cream colored with lilac flowers and green vines. The desk next to my bed is covered with clutter, including a phone that is buried in there somewhere. I pulled a simple wooden chair from our dining room to use at the desk. There is a dresser against the wall parallel to my bed. Above the dresser is a matching mirror on which I have posted pictures of my friends and myself. My bed looks out two windows onto the field behind our house, and the cityscape beyond.
Grace sits on my hard wood floor, relaxing against the wall. She usually prefers the floor over the bed or desk chair because it isn’t as hot on the floor. I sit on my soft, cushy bed and twirl my ring around my finger.
I think about Grace’s relationship with Caleb. I had met Caleb in a writing class I’d had junior year. He had hung out with our circle of friends a few times, when I started to realize I liked him as more than a friend. He and I had a lot in common. We liked the same music and appreciated the same things in life. Well, it hadn’t taken long before Grace had decided that she also liked Caleb. Yes, she had known of my feelings for him however, she had also known of Caleb’s feelings for her. Caleb liked Grace a lot.
“Mae, my dearest, I know you like Caleb. I just - I don’t know - I feel like there is so much chemistry between him and me. You know? Like we’re just meant to be or something,” she had said to me. “I mean, I would never want you to feel uncomfortable. If you don’t want me to date him, I won’t.” I had told her it was alright with me. Of course, I had lied.
Caleb had often asked me for advice about how to ask her out. Being the good friend I was, I had given him much encouragement and many ideas that I knew Grace would love. The two had started dating and soon enough they were a couple. As time went by I started to like Caleb more and more. Hanging out with him when Grace was around was the hardest thing for me. They were very much a couple, holding hands, teasing each other good-heartedly, and just generally being sickeningly sweet when they were together. I couldn’t hardly stand it.
I eventually started hanging out with them less when I knew they were going to be together. I made up excuses that would have put many con-artists to shame. I had known it was unhealthy to have such strong feelings for my best friend’s boyfriend. Eventually, the crush I had on him had started to fade away. I can now hang out with them together, and with only slight tinges of jealousy.
“You’re not hiding anything else from me, are you?” Grace says. “I mean, you’re being awfully quiet.” That’s because I’m thinking about your boyfriend and how much in love with him I was for close to a year of your relationship. “What are you thinking about?” Hahaha. I am not going to touch that.
“Prom.”
“Yeah, good idea. You need a date,” Grace smiles mirthfully. “You know what you should do?”
“Drive my car into a wall, and say that’s why I can’t go to prom?” I can be so funny sometimes.
“No, idiot.” Grace is so blunt.
“Well then, smarty, what should I do?”
“Well, first, stop blaming me for stealing guys from you.” She is becoming much like a motivational speaker. “You know that I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know,” I say. “I just wish I could be like you.” Grace gives me a questioning look. “What I mean is, I wish I was as self-confident as you.”
“Then here comes my idea. It’s going to be great.” Now it’s my turn to give a questioning look.
“Well?” I say.
“Ask Blake.” Like it’s that easy.
“Oh, ok then. I’ll just pick up the phone and call the guy whom I’ve had a crush on for the past year and just say ‘Hey, Blake. Want to go to prom with me? I know I’ve never been able to form more than two intelligent words in your presence, but I was hoping you could over look my idiocy and go with me. What do you say, big guy?’ Yep, sounds like a good idea to me, Grace.” Shyeah, right.
“Mae Evans,” Grace is getting forceful. “Get up off of that bed.” I do as I am told. “Walk over to this mirror with me.” We walk over to the mirror and look. “Now, tell me what you see.
“I see us.”
“No shit.” Grace doesn’t have much patience for me. “Look at yourself. Tell me what you see in you. Seeing your own positive traits is the only way you’re going to build your own confidence.” I think Grace has been reading too many of Dr. Phil’s books. To humor her, I look in the mirror.
What I see is me. My dark brown hair goes down a couple inches past my shoulder. It is wavy in a good way, the way that makes my round face seem slimmer and longer. My hazel-green eyes contrast beautifully with my olive-toned skin. No acne - thank the Lord for good genes in the dermatology department. My nose is not big, and not small, just the perfect size for my face. I’m average weight and average height. I start to see a spark in my eyes.
“I can ask a guy out.” I say out loud.
“Yeah, sistah, you can.” Grace replies, smiling.
“I think I got some balls, Gracey.” I smile back at her. We both giggle for a few minutes, until the phone rings. I go to my desk to answer it. “Hello?” I say, still laughing.
“Hey, Mae?” I know this voice.
“This is she.”
“Hi, this is Blake, uh, Blake Parker.” My heart skips a beat.
“Yeah, hi, Blake.” I look to Grace; she gives me a thumbs-up.
“I was just wondering, um,” He clears his throat, “I was wondering if-”
“Blake?” I cut him off.
“Yeah?”
“Will you go to prom with me?” There, I said it. Now only one thing can stop me: his answer.
“Really?” No, I was just kidding when I asked that.
“Yes, really.” Please say yes.
“Yeah! Of course!” Alleluia!
“Really?” My turn.
“Yeah!”
“Awesome!”
“I was actually just calling to ask if you thought maybe Grace…” Danger, Will Robinson! “and Caleb and you and me could go out to a movie or something this weekend.” Sigh. “I just really wanted to go on a date with you, and you seemed kind of shy, so I thought maybe a double would be easier.” Big sigh.
“That would be very cool.” I smile at the ease of these words.
“Ok, then, I’ll pick you up around 6:30-ish, ok?”
“Yeah, sounds great.”
“Oh, and Mae?”
“Yeah?”
“I really like it when you talk to me.”
“Well, see, I was having this problem where I didn’t have enough self confidence to form intelligent words in the presence of a person I liked, and well, that just led to my only being able to make Neanderthal-like grunts whenever you were within 10 yards of me.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. “And I should really stop talking now.” Luckily, he laughs.
“You’re funny. I like that.” I bet he’s smiling.
“There’s more where that came from.”

just bumping until I have time to read it

Hay I dont come into this forum very often & noticed this as the bottom thread

Its a good read...
I enjoyed it Jubs....

Thanks Brucy