Everyone around me is eating. Everyone. Even the skinniest of the people here. I don't understand; why do they get both? Food and collarbones? Terra is bugging me to dance with her, and I do, because I love her. Though I hate dancing.
The song is some stupid club music and we grind together, because who wouldn't?
Terra's hair is beginning to stick to her temples with sweat, so we stop to rest. She didn't wear her hijab tonight. And she's wearing a dress that shows skin; and lots of it. She does this whenever she can, Terra. She doesn't identify as muslim; she's agnostic, but her parents force her.
"Do you want anything? I'm going to get a drink." I tell her, needing to get away from the mass of sweaty tangled bodies in this room. When she shakes her head at me, I nod and find my way not to the kitchen, but to the bathroom.
I'm wearing a dress too, but it has long sleeves to hide my cuts and scars. The rest of it though, is a lot less conservative. The scoop neck shows off the tops of my boobs, and it is skin tight. It ends 6 inches above my knees. The fitted blue cotton shows every single bump in my body. I hate it.
I drink three glasses of water to keep my stomach from growling, keeping one in my hand when i walk back to Terra, to make my kitchen story believable.
