(45) An Unwelcoming Homecoming

I frown disdainfully at the hopeless girl staring back at me as I apply another touch of blush to the apples of my cheeks. The ends of my blonde strands just won’t stay curled under, my eyes have lost their usual sparkle as they squint into the glass, and my complexion is whiter than a ghost. Though I am three weeks from reaching my seventeenth year, almost a true woman as my mother would say, I have never felt more childish as I scramble to prepare for the dance I have been planning for for weeks. I run a brush once more through my flat, lifeless hair, adjust the light blue dress I had carefully chosen months ago, and then switch off the light with despair, not missing the sight of my digital clock ticking to 7:59 as I do so.

“Daria don’t you have to leave soon?” I can hear my mother shout from her bedroom. I don’t have the patience or time to answer her though as I rush down the stairs and into the front hallway. Snatching my keys from the silver dish underneath the gold-framed mirror, I gaze sadly into the room next to me. The only light that shines among the shadows comes from the kitchen, leaving the day room unusually dark and lifeless. Visions of last year’s Homecoming where all of my friends and I giggled and posed for various shots on the hearth of the fieldstone fireplace flash in my mind, and I hurriedly push them away. Even though today was one of the busiest work days ever at Cosette’s and I had to miss out on the yearly routine preparation party that all of my friends are most likely just leaving from at this very moment, I tell myself confidently that there are going to be other years, other Homecomings. Pulling the door shut behind me, I make my way carefully towards the car. Soon I arrive at the high school.

As I click-clack in my heels towards the brightness across the parking lot, I can already make out the thumps of loud music issuing from the gymnasium. Swinging the glass doors open, I pull the ticket out of my little black purse and hand it to Mrs. Raign which she receives with a warm smile. Then suddenly my hand is shook firmly by a larger hand. Looking up I am shocked to stare into the whites of the eyes of a mysterious police officer! I mumble a hello, snatch back my paw, and rush towards the CPR room where I discard my bag with the keys inside of it in what I hope is a safe place. “What on earth is he doing here?” I ask myself but toss the concern of my school dance suddenly resembling a jail aside, fluffing my hair one last time in desperation to look somewhat presentable as I smack my lips together and enter homecoming 2001.

The gym is the usual mass confusion of moving bodies, lights, and loud music as I peer through the crowds to spot my own friends in the chaos. “Daria!” I spin around to find the cheerful face of Charissa striding through the doors behind me and immediately I feel a wave of relief wash over me. Her long chestnut tresses flow gracefully across the straps of her pale green dress, a stark contrast to the majority of V-neck black bordello attire being fashioned by the other girls surrounding us. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one late! I got home from babysitting literally like fifteen minutes ago even though the Randalls promised me they would be back before seven.” She sighs miserably.

I laugh at her affectionately. “You look perfect anyway.” She rolls her eyes instantly, obviously having no knowledge of the fact that she could sport a black Glad garbage bag with yellow handles and still look stunning with her long black lashes and deeply tanned skin

“Where’s the other girls?” She asks as we peer across the heads of our classmates. Suddenly I recognize a face a few feet in front of me. The crop of blonde I have gotten to know so well hangs in front of his face from where he has his arms draped around another figure. Her long golden hair tumbles down her bare back where it ends just above the top edge of her hot pink halter dress. Though their bodies are intertwined so that they can only awkwardly rock on the dance floor, their forms are unmistakable. I quickly look away, though I know this scene or one like it had been inevitable since Heather had moved here. She finally has gotten what she wanted, or better yet what I have wanted. “Good bye Jeff Waters,” I tell myself softly, “It was great while it lasted.”

“There’s Britney and Charlotte near the speakers!” Charissa squeals with excitement. I am whisked away from my state of loss as Charissa grabs my hand and pulls me through the mob of teenagers and towards the DJ standing in front of his array of CDs on a nearby table. “Hey guys!” Charissa shouts above the loud techno, waving her hand frantically. Two blank faces stare back at us though across the gymnasium, and as we make our way towards our close friends, we both begin to realize that they’re not all there.

Suddenly I feel myself being embraced by strange arms and gazing up I am dumbfounded to find Cameron, one my closest guy friends flashing a dim-witted grin as he lets his hands grasp the sides of my hips. “Daria! Dance with me!” Smelling the strong acrid scents of Scotch, I push my hands against his crisp white button down and striped tie with a large amount of effort. “Daria! I love you!” He wails and I watch him stumble behind me, rolling my eyes with unbelief as I take a few large strides to catch up with Charissa who is already chatting with Britney and Charlotte. “I’m never going to let him live that one down.” I tell myself secretly.

I finally step in front of my long-lost friends. “Britney, Charlotte how was the party?” I instantly inquire. Expecting a novel of a response of the crucial events I had had the unfortunate pain of missing, because I had to “work”, from Brit’s usual authoritative voice, I am taken aback by her dull tone and vacant looks. Somehow a “fine” topples from her lips and examining her closely, I peer into her eyes. “Man, Brit are you drunk? Where’s Patsy?” Britney slumps her shoulders awkwardly just as Connor Ferrington approaches us and then pulls her limp arms up around his neck, not bothering to give Charissa and I even a glimpse as they begin to move against each other with little hesitation. Charlotte soon has found her own guy to grind with and as I snap my glance back at Charissa, she looks at me with the same furrowing of brows. Though we’re both somewhat happy for Britney, knowing full well that ever since they first sat next to each other in U.S. History every waking hour has been dedicated to his interest, we can’t help but be appalled as she lets his hands slide lower and lower down her back. Turning away with disgust, Charissa and I continue the search for Patsy.

I think I see her over there.” Charissa softly utters. We push our way past several tangling bodies as we head back towards the entrance. “At least she’s sober,” Charissa mutters, “I talked to her about half an hour ago and she told me she wasn’t going to drink until after the dance.” As we walk towards her though, she seems to be heading towards the girls’ room with great difficulty. Before pushing the wooden door wide open, she rams herself into a few freshmen exiting to the right. As they pass us they make comments on how “drunk” she must be, and at a complete loss Charissa and I follow Patsy’s inside.
“What are you doing?” I demand instantly as she gazes at her reflection carefully in the mirror.

“Going to the bathroom.” She mutters automatically. She adjusts the bodice of her dress so that the neck isn’t quite so low and then she continues to examine every inch of her face. Charissa quietly remains standing next to me, but unlike her gentle nature, I can no longer hide my frustration.

“Patsy, you just blatantly pretended to be drunk!” I cry out in desperation.

After a few more seconds of primping she shifts her gaze from her hair to my eyes. “Whatever, Daria, maybe I’m exaggerating my condition a little.” I raise my eyebrows at her as she continues. “I totally wish I had drank with Charlotte and Britney because I’m sorry but this dance blows.” She sighs and pouts her lips once more before she briskly brushes past us and out the door without saying another word.

I watch the door swing back into place painfully as suddenly a sick feeling comes over me from this new separation that has just taken place between a group of friends I thought I knew so well.

“Just forget about them for tonight, they don’t know what they’re doing.” Charlotte tells me calmly. “We’ll just go find some other girls to hang out with.” I let her lead me back towards the gym area and eventually we find a group of girls who are somewhat coherent, and begin to dance together in a crowd. I can’t help but dwell on what I have just seen and heard though. “This isn’t a homecoming dance” I tell myself, “This is a free-for-all. I’m standing in a charade where personal insecurities are masked by promiscuity and reservations of enjoyment are drowned by alcohol. This music isn’t even good! I guess the majority of the people here don’t really care though just as long as they can hang on top of each other, even though music really isn’t needed for that. What happened to the dancing part of ‘ a dance?’ These people can’t really move from the way they are positioned.”

Eventually though, I toss these thoughts of irritation aside and make up my mind to make the best of the evening. I begin to dance like never before even though it’s to a rap song I have never even heard of. Charissa immediately begins to laugh at my poor showing of MTV-like dance moves and soon she begins to join along with me. We sway our hips side to side, jolt our heads around, and move our arms up and down in a somewhat relative motion to the beat pounding around us. Soon we completely forget about everything else except the craziness that has overtaken us. The music continues to play, the colored lights still flash, the DJ occasionally shouts some unidentifiable words into the mike behind us and we are enjoying every minute of it. Happily I discover again for myself that I don’t need to be drunk with random guys hanging all over me for me to have a good time at a dance.

“Let’s get a drink.” Charissa lets out breathlessly after several songs. I nod in agreement and we start to head for the refreshment area outside the gym.

“These people totally wish they had half of our dance skills.” I declare with a straight face. We both begin to stumble across the floor ourselves, high only from the waves of laughter and energy that pass over us at the thought of how ridiculous we must look. My smile fades slowly though as we pass Jeff and Heather still grasping onto one another in the middle of a large crowd. As I look carefully at Heather’s face though, she doesn’t seem entirely happy or comfortable for that matter. Her brown eyes are tracing the painted lines of the gym floor, lost of their sparkle and brightness. Her mouth is pulled into a hard, creased line, robbing her of her usually unstoppable beaming expression as she glances up at Jeff’s sly grin. I watch her force a smile back at him, which vanishes as instantly as it appeared when he draws her even closer to him, and she glances away once again. Suddenly her eyes meet mine, and automatically I look away, not able to meet that penetrating gaze.

As we finally reach the large bottles of soda, I start to pour the nearest beverage so that it tumbles into a clear plastic cup. Charissa holds up her freshly poured coke. “A toast to homecoming.” She smiles.

With enthusiasm I bang my cup against hers so that the Sprite begins to slosh down the sides and I have to step back in order for it not to dribble down the front of my dress. We both immediately begin to enter into fits of laughter and as I clutch my stomach to make the bittersweet pains of amusement come to a halt , I make a mental note to actually try and do something about the quality of homecoming for the following year. I decide that I need to give someone some suggestions for making dances better. “A new DJ, better decorations, and of course larger cups.” I remind myself for the future. Tossing the empty plastic into the large garbage can, Charissa and I head back inside for more wild dancing, real dancing. “I guess if you’re forced to stay in your high school gymnasium until eleven o’clock on an autumn Saturday night” I tell myself, “ you might as well make the best of it. And what better way to make it worth your while than to spend time with the people who love you most, your friends – even if they won’t remember if you were there the next day.”