The party
813 Words
“In life, never undermine anyone under any circumstance. Things change, and you will never know when they will.”
Jackie POV
This is the tenth time I have applied makeup and then cleaned my face again. I look at myself and feel like everything is a mess. The truth is, I am not used to this kind of thing.
I feel like I am doing everything wrong. I have never attended a party outside our house my whole life, apart from my sister’s wedding, which was ages ago.
We are supposed to leave in less than an hour, yet I haven’t done anything right. I am a complete mess. What the hell should I do? Maybe I should just stay home and not go to the damn party. Seriously, how can I go looking like this?
“Jackie!”
I am startled by my mother calling me. What am I even supposed to do now? Panicking, I stand up again and begin selecting a dress from the heap of clothes on my bed—clothes I have been going through for the last couple of hours. Probably three full hours.
She walks in just as I am picking another dress. She is holding one in her hands and gives it to me.
What the hell? Miracles are happening today. First, she invited me to go to the party with her, and now she is giving me such a beautiful dress.
Not that she doesn’t buy me things, but she has never bought me a luxurious party dress before.
I take it nervously.
“Thank you so much, Mom,” I say with a smile.
“Be quick. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes,” she says. “The party is about to begin.”
“What is the party about?” I ask, realizing I don’t even know why we’re going.
“Oh… so you didn’t know?” she replies.
“It’s Tony’s birthday.”
My heart skips just hearing his name. It has been months since I last heard anything about him. Tony is a guy I try not to think about too much.
Everyone would probably wonder who Tony is.
Tony is the guy I have had a crush on for almost my whole life, yet I could never imagine myself telling him. He is Natasha’s son—my mother’s best friend. When we were younger, our families spent a lot of time together. We were actually friends as kids. But as time passed, we grew interested in different things. Or maybe he simply found me boring. Either way, we drifted apart.
He went to a different high school, and being handsome, girls lined up for him effortlessly.
Stop being a desperate young girl, my subconscious snaps at me.
I wonder why I always undermine myself. That has been me for a very long time. I wonder when I will finally gain confidence.
---
“Oooh, dear friend, Mercy!”
Natasha shouts the moment she sees us walk in. She rushes toward my mother and hugs her tightly, as if they haven’t seen each other in ages—yet they were together just yesterday.
“Jackie… it’s a pleasure seeing you here,” she says brightly.
I smile as she calls my name. Natasha is always cheerful whenever you meet her.
She moves to hug me tightly—so tightly that I feel like I can’t breathe.
Oh God, this woman can be so dramatic.
After a while, she finally lets me go, and I compose myself. I take a moment to observe my surroundings. There are many people around, most of them classy. The place is beautifully decorated, mostly in blue—Tony’s favorite color.
Honestly, this looks more extravagant than an ordinary birthday party.
Natasha and her husband clearly have a lot of money. They inherited most of their wealth from their respective families, which explains why they are extremely rich.
My mother and Natasha excuse themselves, and within seconds, they disappear. I assume they are enjoying themselves with their friends, since I don’t recognize most of the people here.
I don’t know what to do. I am not used to large gatherings. Should I stand here awkwardly or follow my mom around like a little puppy? That would be ridiculous, my subconscious whispers.
I compose myself and ask one of the waitresses for a drink. She hands me a glass of red wine, which I don’t actually drink. I move around awkwardly, talking about random things with a few neighbors I recognize.
However, I can feel someone’s eyes burning into me. Each time I look around, I don’t see anyone staring.
Don’t tell me I’m imagining things.
That’s not me. I haven’t even taken a sip of alcohol. Yet my heart tells me someone is watching me closely, though I can’t figure out who it is.
- Writer
