Sixteenth: No Way
It was three days before the Summer Dance and the picking day was on. It was held down the beach at the booth; the same place where we dropped our names off. It was my first time again to experience a thrill that didn’t relate to swimming. I was scared as hell; so nervous that I couldn’t even stand on my own because of my knees all quivering. Bridget, Chloe and I sat across in the Surfer’s bar, tapping our nails on the table. They couldn’t stay still either. The area was crowded. Girls were watching and observing while the boys were lined up waiting for their turn to pick. There were a lot of people and the booth was jammed pack. The sun was very high and the temperature was beginning to rise. You can almost see the heat wave.
“Ramona Western, you’ve been picked by Neil Dwayne.” The lady announced as her words were echoed into the microphone. The girl would’ve fallen off if there wasn’t anyone around to catch her. She faked a smile and moved on, snubbing the boy.
This is what I hate about the picking day. They make it so dramatic as if it’s the Hunger Games’ reaping day.
“That’s the twenty seventh girl! They must have missed my name!” Bridget complained, considering that she had been waiting for this day since the year had started. I pulled her down.
“Woah, calm your horses! You’ve been attending the prom for like years now. If they accidentally lost your name then they’ll obviously know that it was yours.” I said, thinking it wasn’t convincing enough. She glanced at me, her eyes rolling. She sat and rested her head on the palm of her hands.
“It’s Andrew Warman’s turn. Who would he pick this year?” the lady focused her attention on Andrew while he carefully dove his hand on a pool of desperate girls’ names.
“Please, God. Don’t let it be me.” I crossed my fingers, holding it high. So high that everybody started staring at me. I looked like an idiot, but it was worth a shot.
Bridget noticed me, “Yeah right.”
The volume of the people chatting went low as Andrew took his hand out of the box. He immediately passed it to the lady, which I presume was an Effie wannabe. But whatever.
Bridget tapped my shoulder, “What would you do if he picked you again?” she said, laughing her signature laugh which stays at the same tempo All. The. Time.
“I don’t know but killing him would be fine.”
The lady raised the paper high, waving it back and forth like some kind of flag, “Andrew, you’ll be spending the dance with…”
“Saydie!” Bridget screamed with her laugh. It’s starting to get annoying. Everyone looked at us with an annoyed face.
The lady continued, “Bridget Fletcher!”
“Oh my gosh.” I covered my mouth with great shock.
“What the heck.” Bridget commented, her face frozen.
“Are you, okay?” Chloe asked. She tried snapping her fingers close to Bridget’s face.
“Hahahahahaha.” I mimicked her signature laugh while slapping the table. I was laughing so loud that everyone turned their heads at us again.
“I can’t even..” Bridget continued, still frozen like a dead frog.
“Nice go Andrew!” I shouted and gave him a “gun shot” hand action.
“Okay, that was a bit harsh for the girl, don’t you think?” the lady chuckled, “Alright, moving on. Ethan Runwell, you’re next.”
As he heard his name, he stepped forward and quickly picked out a name without even a risk. The crowd, especially the girls who were dying to be his partner, silently waited. We all stared as he got his hand out with a piece of paper gripped between his fingers. He handed it to the lady who was over excited and couldn’t wait. Everyone and everything was very quiet as she unfolded the paper. I felt like I could feel the ruffle sound as she gently opened it slowly, which made a great suspense. Her eyes went left to write while reading the crumpled paper.
“Ethan,” she began, “you will be sharing the dance floor with…”
The wind breezed my hair. The birds started flying above us in a V formation. The coconut trees were being pushed by the wind. The clouds formed.
Suddenly, everything mattered to me.
My nervousness was indescribable compared to the other girls. I felt my tummy aching. Or is it just the butterflies eating my entire system? Heck, I shouldn’t even be worried. Why am I nervous anyway? It’s not like I care for whoever girl gets picked—
“Just freaking say the name!” a voice came from the crowd. Her lips formed, ready to speak, please don’t be…
“Saydie Warman!”
YOU ARE READING
A Beautiful Mess
Teen Fiction"I had never thought in a million years that a boy who used to hate me, who used to make me cry, who used to play tricks on me could possibly make me fall in love with him.." Saydie was only four when Ethan started playing tricks on her: purposely s...
