Separated by a Screen (And Several Hundred Miles)

Chapter Ten

Wednesday and Thursday passed too quickly. Waking up on Friday and seeing my homecoming ticket sitting on my desk sent a sick feeling to my stomach, which I did my best to ignore.

I'd hardly talked to Luke the past couple days, which did nothing to help the constant anxiousness that I was growing accustomed to.

~~~

My classes passed in an anxiety-filled blur; all everyone seemed to be able to talk about was Homecoming - who was going with who, what everyone was wearing, the afterparties; anything. With all the talk, I had the slight hope that maybe someone would invite me to join their group, but no such luck. Not that I expected anything different.

~~~

By the time I walked into my house by the end of the day, I was borderline mental breakdown. Thankfully, no one was home as I hurried upstairs and collapsed on my bed.

"Deep breaths," I told myself, doing my best to steady my shaky hands. I failed miserably. Then I had the smart idea to glance at my closet door, where my dress hung. That didn't end up being a good idea.

Tonight's going to be terrible, I thought. Unfortunately, other thoughts started pouring into my head.

Why are you going?  Nobody there likes you. You'll be ruining their night by going. No one wants you there.

Beads of sweat trailing down my face, I clasped my hands over my ears, but that didn't help. You can't hide from yourself.

Homecoming is for going to hang out with friends. You don't have any of those.

I immediately disagreed, but then I realized that it probably didn't count if they were 800 miles away.

Even if he lived here it wouldn't count, because, guess what? He doesn't like you. Just like everyone else.

"Shut up!" I needed to ignore the thoughts. Not that I had succeeded thus far.

Not wanting to have a major panic attack before the dance even started, I frantically dug through my bag (which, thanks to the fact that my entire body was trembling, was rather difficult) until I found my headphones. I plugged them into my phone and hit play. Instantly, Troye Sivan's voice flooded my ears. Sitting against the wall, I pulled my knees against my chest and waited for it to end.

~~~

It took several songs before my breathing was steady again. I glanced at my phone and groaned; there were only about three hours until the dance. Getting up from my seat on the floor, I stood and grabbed a t-shirt and leggings from a drawer then headed for the bathroom.

Once inside, I peeled off my now-sweaty clothes, then turned on the shower and stepped inside. I'd been hopeful that maybe the shower would numb the thoughts in my head, but instead they seemed to echo inside the stall.

No one wants you to go, Heather.

You'll just make a fool of yourself.

Why are you even going?

Just stop trying, already.

~~~

After having finished my makeup and hair, I slid on the dress I'd bought earlier that week. I zipped up the back, then sighed, turning to face myself in the mirror. Mousy brown hair, glasses, and a body that was too skinny with not enough curves were all I could see. My dress was nice enough, I suppose; it was an emerald green color, strapless, and had a fitted torso that, at the waist, spilled into loose ruffles that fell down to my knees. Not that anyone would be paying attention to it or to the girl wearing it.