After school the next day, I take Thomas to the park. 

The clouds still loiter heavily in the sky, thick with the threat of rain or snow, but the sun still finds pieces to shine through, pouring onto the ground like diamond dust.

I sit on the park bench, watching Thomas climb the formidable icy playground, shouting at me to watch as he flies down the slides and nearly faceplants into the snow. 

"Smooth," I call out to him and wink. 

He lifts his shoulder and saunters back up the steps, shrugging snow off his coat and out of his hair. "Boys aren't smooth," he says. I'll be sure to remind him of that sentence in a few years.

When we get home an hour later, Bailey calls me to discuss the English assignment due and to talk about her party the following night. She asks me if I'm really that bummed at her inviting Daren, but I assure her I'm not. I'm dreading to go either way.

But I'm not going to tell her that.

"Thanks so much for helping me and everything. I know it's hard and stuff," she says. 

I nod into the phone as if she can see it.

I really hate when people say things like that. It can be hard, sure, but I don't want people's pity or to feel like I'm less reliable. Sure, it's hard. But life is hard. Some things just aren't meant to be easy. 

"It's fine," I say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"'Kay, bye."

I hang up.

That night, I wake again. Sudden, random. Like a pile of uncertainty and fear has just been dumped over my head and I sit up, prying my hands off my sheets and trying not to think of parties, promises, or how difficult it feels to breathe.

I'm fine, I'm okay. Things will get easier. 

________________________________________________________________________________

 In the morning, my mom drops me off at Bailey's to help set up. Already, streamers are being hung in place, tables are being brought in for food, dangly lights are cascading to the floor like shooting stars. They're also wrapped around the banister and I have to kick my way through a multitude of balloons, steadily getting bigger. 

"Hey," Bails says, coming down the stairs. Streamer is wrapped around her hands. "Would you help me with this? It's really pissing me off."

I smile and head up the stairs. 

"You okay?" she asks me a little bit later as I stand on the ladder and tape the end of a blue streamer to the wall. I nod and glance at her. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look tired."

"I am tired."

"Bad night's sleep?" 

I shrug to her as I come down. "Not the best."

"Wanna talk about it?"she asks, but I shake my head. "We've still got more decorations to put up."

But Bailey snatches the roll of streamer out of my hand and looks at me. "The decorations can wait. I want to know how you're doing."

"I'm fine," I say, but at her look, my shoulders drop. "I will be fine," I correct. 

"Yes, you will be," she agrees. "Because you are amazing. But  can I do one thing that might be able to help?" 

Suddenly, I feel hesitant. "Um...sure?"

"Good," she says as she reaches for the hand she snatched the streamer out of and leads me to the bathroom.

An hour later, I sit before the mirror, my face staring back at me, but this time, my black hair is draped in elegant curls. Green eyes shadow highlights my lids, popping out the color of my eyes. There's a light trace of blush that brings out my darker complexion and a little lip gloss. Bailey attempts to lend me one of her dresses but I shake my head, drawing the line after the glitter she ran through my hair. 

"You look great. The guys will be all over you."

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, trying not to image that.

"Well, not all over you. I've got your back." She nudges my shoulder and winks. 

I try to give her a warm smile. "Thanks," I say. "Now can we finish the rest of the decorations?" 

Bailey nods. "Yeah."

We spend the remainder of the time we have left, finishing the streamers, the lights, and blowing up the balloons. I feel lightheaded afterwards, staring at the explosion of celebration, but then again, it could be the helium I consumed  when we got distracted while finishing up the balloons. 

"You guys make Prom look like a child's production with a budget at Dollar Tree," Bailey's dad says to us, whistling as he comes through the door with groceries. We help him carry the rest of the bags into the house and by the time the food and drinks are prepared and set out, the small hand is hovering over the six. 

My heart is hammering against my chest at the thought of being lost in a sea of people but I swallow it back, trying to look calm and collected, a stark contrast the stress that's pummeling its way inside me. 

"Ready?" she asks me. 

"Definitely." Not. 

The doorbell rings and I pull out my happy best friend card, plastering a welcoming smile to my lips as the floodgates open. 

Girls come up and hug me while the guys raise their hands awkwardly. I don't even know half of the girls that I get embraced by but I keep up my pretense, trying not to feel like a cat surrounded by water. 

I run a nervous hand through my hair. 

Then Daren steps through the door.

In all honesty, I really didn't believe he'd come. I didn't think he seemed interested. Then again, I don't know him. How am I supposed to assume what he is and is not interested in?

His gaze falls to me. 

He wears similar clothing as he does to school, enigmatic at their best. White undershirt. Jeans. A black jacket that seems to reach up over his head and cloak his eyes in shadow. 

"You came." I really wish I didn't sound so shocked.

"You sound surprised."

Dang it. 

"Yeah, well, I thought-" 

"Hey!" Bailey says, waving Daren over. With a final glance at me, he follows. "Thank you so much for coming. Here, I'll start introducing you to people, this is..."

Her voice is swept away by the current of other small conversations, music, and the pound of footsteps dancing to it. 

I stand alone now, surrounded by people, my heart steadily making its way into my throat. 

I'm fine everything's okay it's fine it's fine it's fine...

"Hey," someone comes up from behind me. I whirl around, coming face to...chest with a guy. I recognize him vaguely from being a player on the school football team;  big and broad with a buzz cut brown hair and an arrogant look gleaming in his blue eyes. 

I try to stifle my discomfort. 

I fail.

"You're in my Social Studies and History class, right?"

I purse my lips. "Yeah," I say, through the nervous energy running up and down my spine. "I'm going to go this way," I add, turning around. He catches up to me and loops his big arm through mine. 

"C'mon, we were just getting acquainted." 

I nod in acknowledgement, pulling my arm out from his. "And we did." 

"Well then what's my name?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow. That arrogant look never wavers as I successfully pull away from him. I mentally scramble to recall a name I can put to his face, but it's like my mind has gone blank. 

"I don't know, what is it?" I answer honestly. 

"It's Aaron."

"Okay, Aaaron. I'm Wintre. There. Now if you'll excuse me."

 Get out get out get out get out...

"Hold on," he says. Another hand appears from around my waist. Fear strikes through me, the panic making my hands shake. I'm in a roomful of people and I know he can't do anything, but no one is looking. No one is paying attention. 

No one cares. 

He smiles, turns me to face him. "I want to get to know you more." 

"Well then maybe we can meet up at the library sometime," I say, having no intentions to meet him anywhere. "Please let go."

Aaron comes closer. "Oh, no. I like a girl who's hard to get."

I splay my hands across his chest, feeling like I'm being choked. Smothered. Crammed into a corner. 

I can't breathe. 

Around me, a couple people close to us are starting to notice. But no one comes to my aid like I'd hoped. Instead, one whistles. A person who knows Aaron makes a remark. 

He takes another step closer, until I can practically smell his breath. My back hits the wall.

I'm trapped.

GET OUT! 

"Let me go," I raise my voice but it breaks. "This isn't funny." 

But a small, sly smile plays across his lips. "Maybe I can change your mind." He leans down over.

"LET. ME. GO!" The words leave my mouth in a practical shriek and he stumbles back, looking at me like I just struck him. Other people look at me. The music pauses. 

But I'm already making my way through the crowd, pushing past people and out the back door. 

I don't have a jacket. Nothing except a thin long sleeve and jeans, but I don't care. My shoes sink into the snow and it wraps around the shins, the cold biting into my skin. I try to turn my attention to it, trying not to think of him coming toward me, the feel of his hand restraining me. I want to rinse away his touch, wipe his breath off of my face as my own hangs in the air.  I don't even realize I'm crying until my face suddenly feels ten times colder. 

A hand settles on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. "Leave me alone, Bailey." I'm mad at her. 

I've got your back. 

I purse my lips to keep from snapping at her. 

"That was interesting," a different voice than I expected says. Much deeper. I go stiff.

Daren steps up beside me, his eyes scanning my face. I look away, wiping off my tears. "What do you want?" I ask.

He shrugs, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Saw you run out here. Pretty sure your friend will be coming any minute."

"I don't feel like talking to her." I rub my shoulders to keep warm. My entire body is shaking but it's not from the cold. More tears fall and I swipe them away. 

"Do you want a ride home?" he offers. I look over at him, momentarily forgetting my state. "You're leaving already?"

He scoffs. "You didn't think it was my scene anyway. You were right."

I nod at that.

"So do you?"

I think about it, glancing back at the house, imagining going back in. Dealing with the stares. "I hate running away," I whisper, even though I just did. I really want to march back in there and look unaffected and calm and let them stare, let them whisper. But the truth is, everything in me is in disarray and I don't want to keep up anymore pretenses. I want my home. My bed. My pillow I can scream my frustration and embarrassment into.

He just shrugs, meeting my gaze again. "It's not running  when you decide you don't deserve to up with a bunch of morons to make a point."

I stare at him and a tiny smile escapes me. I like how matter-of-fact he says it, as if it should just be known. "Okay," I say and we turn to walk back into the house. My heart rate kicks up but before we make it to the door, Bailey bursts from it.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay? I was upstairs getting something when I heard-"

"I'm going home," I say, stepping around her. She touches my arm. "Wait, so soon?" 

Daren stands next to me and waits, looking in no hurry, he leans up against the doorframe and looks away. 

I nod. "Yeah."

"But you shouldn't let that ruin your night."

"Bailey," I stare into her eyes. "I came tonight for you. I was here for you." 

Her face screws up. "I mean, I know I said I had your back and I'm sorry-"

I just shake my head, no longer feeling angry, just tired. "I hate depending on people to help me out of something, Bailey, you know that. I prefer doing it myself. But nonetheless, I like to believe they mean it when they say they'll be there."

Then I turn back to Daren and step through the door. A couple people whisper as we pass, but I'm not allowing myself to pay attention. It's just a bunch of kids. Just gossip. Just an opinion. 

Then I'm outside and walking with Daren to his car.