Nothing in Between

11

Clyde isn't completely sure why she is even at a party.

She isn't sure why she is standing in a corner, desperately trying to avoid everyone else, even the people she came with. Well, it isn't like Clyde is comfortable enough to even talk to those people. Because to Clyde, they're just schoolmates she happens to work with.

It's a shame, really, how Clyde can't manage to get comfortable with them even though they've all been working together for the past few months. Sometimes, Clyde even finds herself feeling a little jealous, because everyone else has gotten along so well.

What's worse is that Clyde keeps trying to fit in, yet no person seems to notice. There has truly been too many times where Clyde finds herself, standing completely alone as people stare. It's like they all know she's there, but they simply don't care enough.

Clyde just doesn't understand how they manage to ignore her existence.

At least they remember to invite her to the after-party. Though, it isn't like Clyde can ever be truly thankful about that. They probably just want to seem like great people for inviting the quiet one. They do seem shocked whenever Clyde even accepts their invites.

A tap on her shoulder makes Clyde fall back into reality. She stupidly glances around the room, trying to look for the person who called her attention. Her eyes slowly find the face of the club president, and Clyde can practically feel the color drain from her own.

"What are you doing?"

"Drinking," Clyde responds, "Standing."

"Wanna play spin the bottle?"

It takes everything in Clyde to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She hates that game, if you can even call it one. It just seems like a way for actual cowards to get the chance to kiss some person they like. Plus, Clyde definitely only wants to kiss one girl.

"No, thanks," Clyde chuckles awkwardly, "I don't wanna kiss some random girl, or worse, a guy."

"Don't be lame! You're not even holding a drink!"

Clyde grimaces at the girl and takes a brief sip from her plastic cup. She knows what the girl is trying to say, she just literally doesn't want to acknowledge it. And from what Clyde knows, their club president is only three years older than her. Not a good thing.

"I am holding a drink." And Clyde nearly rolls her eyes in annoyance.

"That's just water! I'll get you an actual drink, follow me."

"I don't know, Chelsea. I kinda don't—"

"Come on! You're the only person here who hasn't taken a sip of alcohol."

In a brief moment of true desperation to fit in, to finally get someone to acknowledge her, Clyde looks around. Her eyes try to make sense of her surroundings, but it's just too dark, and the flashing lights in every corner of the interior make everything harder to see.

But Clyde can see that Chelsea is right. There are literally tens of people dancing around her with their bodies drenched in sweat, and probably with their internal organs drowning in alcohol. Clyde can't exactly admit that she wants to be a part of them.

"Well... okay," are the words that still leave Clyde's mouth.

"Perfect! I know exactly what you should try."

The girl walks to the kitchen, and Clyde finds herself following her like a lost child, unsure of what to do or where to go. Clyde speedily squeezes herself through the sea of dancing people, grimacing every time any of her limbs make contact with a stranger's.