November 2nd, 2019

A tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my conversation with my friend. I turned to find a girl, long blonde hair and tight, short dress.

"You know it's winter, right?" I asked, before realizing what a stupid comment that was. "Nevermind. Need something?"

She nodded. "Hi."

"Hey? Oh wait, I recognize you!"

Her eyes light up. "Yeah? From where?"

"Pep Squad," I said. At Foxcroft there were two different cheerleading teams: varsity cheer and pep squad. One was filled with athletes while the other's roster only consisted of pretty faces.

"Oh yes!" she flashed a smile. "Why don't we dance? Che never wants to dance because she doesn't want to get sweaty. I never have anyone to dance with!"

"Shame."

"So will you?"

"Tell me: who's Che?" By now, my friend had disappeared into the crowd. I was not fond of smalltalk, but I needed something to do... and I wasn't planning on busting a move.

"Che's my friend."

"And you are?"

"Florrie."

"Right. I'm Harvey." I said, holding out my hand for a hand shake. She must have thought I was accepting her invitation to dance, because she grabbed my forearm and dragged me into the crowd. The music was so loud on the dance floor, I could feel it shaking the room with every beat.

The volume was partly why I never went to parties. I had only gone to this one because Enrico promised it would be fun, but he was lost in the crowd and I was left to figure out what I was supposed to do.

"Come on! Dance with me!" The blonde girl- no, Florrie said as she jumped up and down. She kinda sucked at dancing.

I saw no way out, and I didn't have a good excuse to leave, so I tried to pretend I was having a good time, shifting from foot to foot as an off-beat dance. I wasn't a very good dancer either.

She grabbed my hands, and pushed them forwards and backwards, each arm in the opposite direction.

The annoyingly repetitive song was over before long, and the dancers slowed. Many left to grab another drink. The floor was a mess, covered in red solo cups and food wrappers. I thought this meant the party was finally over, or a good excuse to leave was finally in my sights, but I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

A slower song began to play, and Florrie looked up at me excitedly. "Oh I just love this song, won't you stay a little longer?" she asked, batting her fake eyelashes at me.

If I had to do one more dance I was going to puke, and it had just been one song. "No, sorry. I need a drink, maybe later?" I said, chuckling and rubbing the back of my head. I was silently begging for her to let me go, and to not make me dance again. But, because the world hates me tonight, she just couldn't take no for an answer.

"Oh come on, it's just one song! Dance with me!" she exclaimed, smiling like she was doing me a favor. I would have left anyway, but she had a grip on my arm, her fake nails acting like barbs, keeping her hand firmly attached. I don't think she even realized she was doing it. She smiled genuinely the whole time.

I was hoping for something, anything to get me out of the terrible situation. And finally, finally something went my way. But of course, something bad had to cause it. Just my luck.

Before we could begin slow dancing, there was a shriek. Florrie's nails left my skin, and I moved away quickly. Out of the room and through the hallway, everyone was gathered around the top of the stairs. The girl who had been greeting everybody was lying at the bottom. She was mostly okay, it wasn't too big a drop, but she was bleeding and clearly shaken up.

"She... she... she pushed me!" the greeter rasped, sitting up abruptly and pointing. There was a random girl at the top of the stairs with us; her arms were still outstretched. She had short black hair, glasses, and an uneven tan. She was scowling down at the other girl.

"All I did was tell her that she would look better with contacts, and she pushed me!" the girl at the bottom of the stairs shrieked. Someone moved down to help her up. I had to admit what she said was rude, but not nearly worth getting pushed down the stairs.

Just as the greeter was brushing herself off, the black-haired girl began to rapidly descend the staircase. She was yelling as she ran down. She wasn't yelling words—just screaming like a manic animal.

"Someone stop her!"

"What the hell is she doing?"

"Somebody get down there!"

People kept screaming for someone to do something, and yet nobody moved. The person that helped up the greeter scrambled away. Everyone stayed back, away from the fight.

The black-haired girl jumped onto the bleeding girl, frozen with fear, at the bottom of the stairs. Both of them let out screams for entirely different reasons.

At first it was just light punches, and then shoves from a few of the athletes, who had finally sprung into action, trying to pull the two girls apart. It escalated to rough hair pulling and deep scratching from both sides. The athletes who were once helping backed away.

And then the raven haired girl did something disgusting. Something vulgar.

She leaned down and bit the other, right around the shoulder area. It had definitely broken skin. People began yelling anew at the violent sight, and the athletes moved back in and doubled their efforts.

It didn't take long for them to separate the two girls. The greeter girl was sobbing, her dress torn up, and her shoulder bleeding profusely. The girl who had pushed her was trying to escape the grasp of the football team. She was kicking and snarling like a rabid animal. Then she slumped, and began sobbing hysterically, ponting at the greeter as she cried. It was a total mood shift. A three-sixty flip.

I was frozen in place. The music, still going, pulsed in the background. Down the stairs, the athletes took the raven haired girl outside. The greeter and her friend left a little while after, ensuring the attacker was gone.

And yet, when the athletes came back inside, without the black-haired girl, the party resumed. Gossip infused the same room we had been in before. I wanted no part of it.

I downed a solo cup and left.