The Valentines Day Dance

Being strange was something I was pretty good at. My existence was barely ever acknowledged; as I would sit in the back of all my classes at school, refuse to participate in group activities and such. Being alone was the only thing I was really good at.

Until I came across her, she was the most beautiful girl that I had ever come across in my short life of sixteen uneven years. She had the most sincere blue eyes ever to be given to someone and she wore her battered heart on her sleeve, open to everyone, ready to bleed.

The desire to protect someone so feeble wasn't something I wanted. I liked my meager invisible existence and this girl reveled for popularity, for acceptance, into the cruel teenage soap opera world we had to endure everyday, until we are given the power to break free of it.

Her smiles were like glass, hard to make happen but easy to break. I tried to actually be friendly toward her, even trying to say hi at least. She'd frown at me as if she didn't recognize me even if I had said hi just the day before.

I took the next step with a. "How are you today?"

"Fine," She'd answer her voice curt and final. No chance in pressing the matter and trying for chitchat let alone an intelligent conversation with her.

I didn't give up though.

Everyday our conversations were the same, short but I couldn't help but feel they held promise. Or I wanted there to be promise, even a slight interest in me, a lingering glance that she'd make upon my face with those blue eyes of hers.

I was dangerously falling in love.

I wanted to express my love for this girl that was trying to mold herself into a Barbie doll. She had money, she had those expensive designer clothes, a too skinny for average girls sort of figure and was as dense as a block of wood.

Still, just thinking about her or watching her in class made my heart swell and ache. Though I knew I would never have the bravery to tell her how much she meant to me, that I wanted to hold her close and never let her go.

Until the Valentines Day dance.

I tend to avoid dances; I can't dance to save my life really. My brain sends mixed signals to my limbs causing in accidents such as me falling over seriously hurting myself or embarrassing myself.

Though I knew tonight would be different. God would give me the gift of gracefulness for one night only just so I could win the heart that she kept on her sleeve, to give me unwavering confidence so I could deliver a beautiful poetic speech to her, about the love that had blossomed for her since she came to our school back in December.

I dressed up. I even wore a dress and hovered in front of my mirror for two hours making sure my make up was absolutely perfect.
The time I entered the dance I felt my confidence wither and die unlike what the red rose that I held in my hand would do in a matter of weeks.

I saw her on the far side of the gymnasium, wearing a frilly pink and white dress that belonged on a runway model. She was holding a small cup of red punch in one hand and was laughing along at some inside joke her and her two 'best friends' were discussing.

Slowly I edged toward them, trying to look inconspicuous in the shadows the dimmed lights caused on the outer rim of the gym. I tried to make it look like it was a natural occurrence for me to saunter over to the most popular group of girls.

Finally I was right beside her. I cleared my throat, catching her and her friends' attention.

"Hello," I said, my voice shaking.

Her blue eyes stared at me curiously. "Hi,"

"I just wanted to give you this." I whispered so quietly that I could barely hear myself over the loud hip hop music. I handed her the rose which she gingerly took from my hand, her expression puzzled.


"You're welcome," I said a bit louder this time. "And..and… I wanted to tell you that I love you."

Her eyes widened in surprise as her friends gawked in silence as well.

Laughter erupted.

My face burned scarlet as her and her friends started laughing and started shouting out. "Alice is a lesbian!"

Tears pricked behind my eyes as I turned around and ran as fast as I could out of the gym. My humiliation tore my heart apart as I ran home, not stopping until I was in the bathroom staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Mascara stained my cheeks black, my breathing was hard from running and my face was pale without colour except for the redness around my eyes.

I picked up a razor, holding its pink handle gingerly in my hand as I sat down on the ledge of the bath tub. The kids' taunts ran through my head, their laughter screaming and mocking.

I slowly drew the razor across on the tender white skin on the beginning of my wrist. Blood trickled out of the cut, giving me a painful sense of satisfaction.

"That was for being ignored."

Another line, right under the first one, more blood poured out of wound.

"That was for being viewed as a freak."

I dug deeper with the third, smiling at the blood and pain.

"That was for surviving everyday alone."

The slashes started being made faster, blood staining the dress I had saved all my money for just to impress her. I started on my other wrist. I no longer felt pain, or even pleasure just a raw need and numbness.

I dropped the razor to the ground and held my wrists up to my face, staring at the cuts through tear blurred eyes and then I stood up.

Reaching into the medicine cabinet I pulled everything out and started taking every prescription, every kind of medication, all by fistfuls. Every pill represented every cruel nickname, every practical joke, every time I ran home crying just like what happened tonight.

Collapsing to the ground, welcoming the cold feeling of death creep up upon my skin, I wrote in my blood a message.

"I loved her and she killed me at the Valentines Day Dance."