Separated by a Screen (And Several Hundred Miles)

Chapter Eleven

I pulled into the parking lot - I'd borrowed my mom's car for the night. She had wanted me to have a way home from whatever after-party she was assuming I was invited to (which I wasn't).

I waited in the parking lot for a moment, debating whether I could successfully hide in the car the entire time. Deciding I would probably get caught by a teacher, I sighed and turned off the car. I grabbed my handbag and got out, doing my best to ignore the fact that I was shaking.

Even in the parking lot, you could already hear the latest pop music blasting in the gym, and I cringed inwardly. Another reason why I hated Homecoming: the music is...well, it's not exactly my favorite thing in the world.

I reached the doors to the school, and I unconsciously took a deep breath. I took hold of the handle, exhaling shakily, then opened the door and stepped into Hell - I mean, the dance.

I'm greeted by music pounding in my ears, nearly unbearable heat, the smell of sweat, and a teacher asking to see my ticket. In retrospect, I probably should've acted like I forgot my ticket at home, but at the time I was too flustered to think of such a good idea. I handed off my ticket to him, sealing my fate for the night.

~~~

I felt lost the moment I stepped inside. I didn't know what to do; I had no one to talk to, no one to dance with - I was lost. It took me a few minutes, but eventually I found my "friends." They greeted me with screaming, hugs, and selfies - all of the above I hate, but I went along with it out of social necessity. I did my best to act like I was chill and having a good time, although my heart was racing and my hands shook the entire time.

~~~

The negative part of me was confused, but for the first hour, everything was going okay. The girls were perfectly happy spending their time talking, laughing, taking pictures, and flirting with guys. I was so sure things were going okay, I started partaking in these things - well, except for the flirting. Something I couldn't identify (other than the anxiety) held me back from doing that.

Everything was going fine; was I having a good time? No, of course not, but I wasn't having a terrible time. Yet.

The "yet" came into effect at about ten when the girls decided something: we had to go dance. Instantly, alarms starting going off in my mind as I thought of getting pulled into the mass of sweaty bodies on the dance floor, so I decided I needed to slip away from the group. Now, any other time, my "friends" couldn't care less what I did. However, they had apparently decided that tonight they weren't going to ignore me. Before I had a chance to escape, Diana's arm linked mine and she pulled me along with the group, and before I could make up an excuse to get out of it, I was dragged into the very center of the dance.

There were hundreds of people surrounding me. Couples pushed and shoved through the crowd, school sluts were grinding against the football players, there was a faint smell of weed in the air, and the DJ seemed to be blasting the music even louder than before, but somehow my "friends" were still managing to have fun; so much fun that apparently they couldn't be bothered to be notice the fact that I was starting to panic.

My heart started racing, and anxiety surged through my veins like poison. My breaths became shorter and shorter, and I frantically spun around, looking for a way out of the crowd. There was none. The music pounded in my ears, each beat sending another wave of panic through my mind. I was hardly able to stay standing; the trembling state my body was in was enough to make me want to fall to my knees.

Eventually, the crowd broke and I bolted, running away from my "friends." I wasn't quite sure where I was going, but I ended up in the locker room, slamming the door behind me as I entered. I hectically tried to calm down, but by then it was too late. I collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down my face as sobs racked through my body. A scream crawled its way up my throat, but my voice broke and I couldn't make a sound. I tried to steady my breathing, but each breath kept getting cut short until my throat felt raw and I could hardly breathe. Hateful words ricocheted inside my head, each thought pounding against my skull until it felt like it would shatter.

My entire body was trembling, and my hands were shaking so badly that I struggled to open up my handbag. I could hardly hold onto my phone once it was in my hands. Before I fully knew what I was doing, I hit "call."

He answered.

"Hello?"

I couldn't speak. All I did was sob.

"Oh my God; Heather? What's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to speak. "I just- there are so many people here and- Luke, I can't-" Another sob leapt from my throat, and I broke down all over again.

"But what's wrong with-" His voice drifted into nothing, and I was struck with an overwhelming sense that he had just realized something about me.

Luke's voice was quiet when he spoke again. "Heather. Breathe." I didn't respond. "Just focus on your breathing," he said.

I did as he said. Maybe not well, but I tried. "Just breathe," Luke kept saying.

It could have been minutes or hours, but before I realized what was happening, my breathing was back to somewhat normal, and my sobbing had quieted. I could hear Luke's steady breathing, and somehow, I felt like he was right there next to me.

"Heather...it'll be okay."

And for some reason, I believed him.