Caught In The Moment

nine - whether or not to attend the party

Heat races through each nerve in my body.

Embarrassment Heat.

It swallows all my insides, forcing me to mask myself with a smile. I am unsure of my decisions. I am unsure of everything. Is this what I am meant to do?

The party is today, I'm sure of it. It is all people have been talking about for the last week – what they are going to wear, how drunk they will get, and who they will go with. I have a clue of whose party it is but I'm still not quite sure, because the address shows that it is at an old run-down house in the suburbs close to where I live. I chose to walk because I don't want to get dropped off by mum because they would be humiliating. But I still don't have a date. The invitation said I had to have one but I know others who are going alone, well with friends, but whatever. I'll choose what I'm going to do on the way there.

With each step I take, the closer I get to the party, the less chance of changing my decision. It weighs on me, pushing harder with each block I pass. I calculate the choices I have – go home and not experience any form of a proper party, but also missing out on the humiliation that could come along with it, or I can face my fears, learn how to become a normal teenage girl and go to this party. Pros and cons fill my head, finding their way into all my thoughts, drowning me in the decision. Although through it all I still manage to walk, to keep my composure, to make my way towards fate.

Maybe I've already chosen what I want to do without realising it, otherwise I may have turned back before now. Maybe I am stronger than I realised and want myself to overcome this fear of social behaviour. Maybe I want to go to this party.

But the decision still lies ahead of me like a huge weight on my shoulders, causing any other pressure in my mind to become insignificant.

A four-wheel drive car screams down the street, teenagers packed onto the ute and roof, cursing and yelling at everyone they pass. Me included. The one driving has his head out of the window and looks too young to be in control of such a vehicle. Black tyre marks criss-cross the road, causing it to appear vandalised over years, although I'm sure it only occurred recently.

Squirts of water fly from the water guns the teenagers hold, aiming in all directions. I casually try to avoid getting wet, although inside I'm panicking. Even though I've tried to tell myself my fear of water is going away, it isn't. It still looms over me as if it controls me.

More teenagers begin to flood the streets. I know I'm getting closer to the party, I must be. I can already hear the sounds of drunken teenagers and pumping music as it carries down the street. People are arriving and circling around houses in the street. I begin to see the attire that other girls are wearing – only the tightest, shortest pieces of clothing they can find, allowing nothing to be left to the imagination. Then I glance at myself – didn't the invitation say that we were meant to wear something to do with the season? And it's autumn. Those girls don't look like they are wearing an autumn outfit. My outfit, on the other hand, does resemble that. I wear an oversized sweater that is decorated with autumn leaves, orange and yellow and brown. As bottoms I wear flared jeans, with white converses, the only sense of fashion I have in my wardrobe. That is when I can afford to buy clothes from a proper store and not second –hand clothing.

I look back at the girls as they run around on the lawns of somebodies house, not caring whether they ruin anything, as long as they get the guys attention that follow them. The guys fall all over the girls, their hands holding the girls close to them. They wear board shorts or skinny jeans with ripped tees and some have exposed skin way too much.

I shudder, heat rushing to my face, the apples of chees blushing under embarrassment. How could I be so foolish! I actually believed what that stupid invitation said. Of course, if I went to this party wearing these clothes I will be humiliated for the rest of my high school years, or even further. I am merely a puppet in their game, to be used at my expense.