there's a first time for everything

the party pt. 2

I mostly hang out near the snack table, close to most of the grownups and their kids. Mom is talking with some woman and her husband, about what, I don't know. At one point Connor tries to approach me, to which I walk away without a second glance.

I know there isn't an excuse to why I'm acting so ignorant towards him, but I can't have people meet me before they see me at school. That'll ruin everything, more than it's already ruined.

The deal with high school relationships is that every twist is a complicated mess of emotions, rivalry, and jealousy. Trust me, I've experienced the cycle enough. Meet someone, a potential platonic friend, boyfriend, or girlfriend; start hanging out and/or dating; then drift away as other responsibilities push their way past.

That's the thing about relationships in high school. I don't get them, never have. If you want to meet the love of your life in your teenage years, go ahead. I won't judge you. But it never lasts.

"Come here," Mom says, tugging on my arm, trying to pull me towards her. "Interact with people. These is going to be your neighbors, you better be friendly with them."

I give her a look but comply, following her to introduce myself.

"Hi, my name is Aspen," I say drily. "I'm Maxine Cornwall's daughter." I waved at hand at my mom. "I'm honored to meet you."

Mom glares at me and beams at the stranger. "Sorry, she's just having a rough day."

I wander to the back of the room again, admiring the painted portraits of some famous unknown leaders, and get so close to the paintings that my nose nearly brushes the canvas. The brushstrokes are thick and loaded with paint, purposeful and heavy. God. I close my eyes. I wish I could paint like this.

"Are you smelling the paint?"

I jump maybe six feet in the air, startled. "What?"

"I said, are you smelling the paint?"

"Um." I slowly turn to see a girl with very short yellow hair smirking at me. "No?"

"It looks like you are," she says, her voice lilting and playful.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, it's my favorite pastime, smelling paint."

"If I were texting, I would type LOL," she deadpans.

A small snicker leaves my mouth. "If I were texting, I would type TLDR."

Her cheeks blow up, her face reddens as she tries to hold in a mouthful of juice she just chugged, and she almost spits it out before swallowing. "Oh my god, you can't be serious."

"I'm pretty sure I'm serious, " I say.

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

"Long story."

"I like stories," she says, grinning and leaning against the wall. She's wearing very short jean shorts covered in little colorful sewn patches. I can't help but notice that her legs are completely free of any hair.

Unlike me. I have to either shave twice a week or wear long pants all the time, otherwise I'll look like a puny-sized gorilla. A fifteen-year-old gorilla.

She notices me staring but doesn't comment on that. "So? I'm listening."

I'm about to speak, when Mom yet again nudges me, barely noticing the girl. "Aspen, come on already!"

I throw the girl an apologetic look and follow Mom, hoping for the life of me that she doesn't go to my school.