Blinking, she looked around, and realized that the darkness was not complete. She found herself on a suburban street punctuated by streetlights. Turning around, she saw a house behind her, not unlike any of the other houses in this fairly typical neighborhood, except for its blazing lights and the music pounding from it.
Not knowing what else to do, she approached the house party, her breath still loud in her ears despite the music. Stepping inside the doorway, she looked around and, unsurprisingly, found a lot of kids dancing. There were a few couples making out in the corners and some people were gathered around the snack table, but the furniture had been pushed up against the walls and the floor was thick with people bouncing around to some raucous music that she’d never heard before. She stepped inside, ignoring the dancers and edging quietly along the sides of the dance floor.
She was trying to find someplace to sit when a voice burst into her thoughts.
“That hurt!”
Looking down, she found she’d stepped on someone’s foot. The girl, who had been sitting crouched up against the wall, met her gaze with angry eyes set in a tear-stained face. The girl was a few years older and wore a shiny black party dress. The poufy skirt of the dress ballooned out around her knees as she sat. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a strange, crimped cloud, giving her an overall odd look. But now that she looked around at the party, she realized that this girl wasn’t dressed any stranger than anyone else. Weird outfits definitely ruled the night.
“I’m sorry,” she told the girl, taking in the mascara-zebra stripes that ran down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m not crying because of my stupid foot,” the girl said angrily, rubbing the back of her hand across her face and smearing her mascara further.
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because of him,” she sniffed, pointing her somewhat reddened nose towards the dance floor. The object of her outrage stood right in the center.
His hair was gelled into uneven blond spikes and his grey suit jacket looked about three sizes too big, but he still seemed to be having fun, dancing with a diminutive red-headed girl.
“What’d he do to you?” she asked, sinking down to take a seat on the floor.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I asked,” Laura told her honestly. “Because it would probably make you feel better to talk to somebody. And because I couldn’t tell anybody even if I wanted to. I don’t know anyone here.”
“Oh.” The girl mulled this over for a few seconds, before grabbing Laura’s hand and dragging her out of the house.
The girl plonked down on the grass and gestured for Laura to do the same.
“What’ja do that for?” she asked, slightly miffed, but sat on the grass anyway.
“The music was giving me a headache,” she answered. “And I couldn’t stand the sight of him any longer.”
“What did he do to you anyway?” she asked, again.
The girl was silent for a few minutes. Tears still rolled down her cheeks and Laura had almost decided that she wouldn’t get an answer when the girl spoke again.
“He asked me to go to the party with him,” she said quietly. “And I was so excited. It was going to be my first real date. And I thought he was so cute.”
She paused, taking a moment to wipe her hand under her running nose.
“And then I get here to meet him and he tells me that he’d rather hang out with Jenny, because she’s prettier anyway, and more fun. He didn’t think she’d go out with him, you know, because she’s so pretty, but she said yes, so he doesn’t need me anymore.”
Laura watched the other girl speak and realized that there was something familiar about her voice, something soothing quality she’d heard before. And when she took a closer look at the girl’s eyes, she knew. The almond-shaped hazel eyes belonged to only one person and she’d recognize that heart-shaped face anywhere. Suddenly she knew why she’d been brought here.
“Well, he’s an idiot,” she said bluntly.
“You think so?”
“Yeah,” she paused. “I don’t even know why you’d like a runt like that to begin with. I mean, if he can’t see that you’re pretty, and smart and fun to be around. Why would want to waste your time?”
“I didn’t think about it that way.”
The girl’s sniffles were starting to calm down and she managed a tear-filled smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “But those things sound like stuff my mother would say.”
Laura looked at the girl carefully, as though trying to memorize her. She solemnly noted the black petals of the delicately shaped earrings that hung on the girl’s ears.
“Sometimes, although rarely, your mother is right,” she smiled at the girl, taking a deep breath before going on.
“Life’s going to get better for you. There will be other boys, nicer ones and other parties. And you’ll be beautiful and talented. Your life’s going to be wonderful.”
Laura spoke quietly, but the girl caught every word.
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” Laura shrugged.
“I should probably get going,” Laura added, although she had no idea what time it really was. “I’ve got an early curfew. And you should probably get back inside before your friends miss you.”
The girl got up and dusted off her dress, wiping the last few tears from her cheeks.
“Thanks for listening,” she said. “It’s so weird. I feel like I know you, but I don’t even know your name.”
“My name’s Laura.”
“I’ve always liked that name,” she smiled pleasantly as she turned to go back inside.
“Do me a favor?”
“Yeah?”
The girl stood silhouetted against the doorway, a dark figure against the lights of the party.
“Never forget how beautiful you are.”
Laura walked away before the girl had any chance to respond.
“See you later, Mom,” she whispered into the darkness.
She closed her eyes and pulled the earring into her hand, feeling her fingers close around its delicate curves. When she opened them again, she found herself blinking against the bright afternoon sunlight that spilled across her mother’s room. The earring still glittered in her hand. Reverently, she put all of the jewelry back into the box, placing the red chest back where she had found it just as she heard her mother’s key in the door.
Laura ran down the stairs, crashing into her mom in a fierce hug.
“What was that for?”
Her mother assumed she wanted something. Unasked for affection usually came with a price tag.
“Nothing,” she answered, looking up to meet those familiar hazel eyes, still clinging to the hug. “I just wanted to.”
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