Fate came disguised as a pink party invitation with cats printed on it.
But, the devil had always come disguised as a lamb.
I didn’t know that at the time of course. I was innocent to the path that had just opened up before me like the maw of a great beast.
Freshman year of high school, I had finally acquired friends. I say ‘acquired’ because honestly I don’t remember how I made them. One day I was alone, the next day, I wasn’t. I had been accepted into a small group of friends, we hung out at lunch, after school sometimes, but hadn’t done much more than that. No late night sleepovers or aimless wandering, as teenagers often did back then.
This was before smartphones, before the internet was extremely mainstream; where the fastest connection was dial up and most houses still had a ‘computer room’. So, it wasn’t as easy to keep in touch, or to make friends.
But, somehow I had been accepted, and though the social aspect was new to me, I tried to embrace it as best as I could.
They were my friends, and it was nice having them.
The majority of my childhood before had been a barren waste of depression and loneliness.
I know I sound like a downer, but sometimes there isn’t a silver lining to make things sound better. Sometimes things are just shit, and that’s just what it is.
In middle school I was picked on for being the quiet loner. In elementary school I was picked on for being the new kid. We moved from the school I had liked, when I was a real little kid. Back then I had friends, people on my block, sleep overs and birthday parties.
But, after the move, it hadn’t been good. Couldn’t fit in, so I stopped trying. We moved too far away for my old friends to ever visit, and besides, we had all been real young then. If the parents' didn't make the effort, there was no way for us to get in touch.
But I guess it’s just something most kids go through. It’s not like I’m special in that regard, but it had been difficult at the time. So friendships were still new, and I was constantly afraid of fucking it up.
That is to say, since friendship was so far out of my wheelhouse, love had been something I only witnessed in movies. That stop the world, burst of color, music in your ears, the type of love teenagers dreamed of. The fictional kind, as far as I was concerned, had never crossed my path before(and I hadn't thought it ever would, to be honest).
But then it happened to me. Felt as if I was struck by lightning.
And when it finally happened to me, I was not prepared for it, but I suppose, no one ever is. But, I digress.
This would be the first party I would ever go to.
Not counting the birthdays I had gone to as a little kid, where there had been punch and a pinata.
This was a real honest to God party, and I had been invited, by one of the people I could consider my best friends.
I was planning on going.
All I needed to do was call her and tell her I was going.
Again, this was before cell phones and texting, when the house only had one phone and it was attached to a wall in the center of the room(whatever room it was in, be it the living room or the kitchen), where everyone else in the house could listen to your conversation.
Though, at least I was lucky in my house, I was practically invisible. No one cared enough to eavesdrop.
This was also back when I was the silent smudge of a person in the background of the photo that was life. I was quiet, a little eccentric, and had zero social skills. Another reason why the random group of people that accepted me as their own was so startling; I had done nothing to deserve it. I wasn’t clever, or interesting, and most of the time I wasn’t even happy.
My name is Mollie Stevens and there’s absolutely nothing special about me.
I was stick-thin and wore over-sized clothes on purpose(so I often looked like a broom stuck in a bag) because fashion wasn’t my thing. My hair was an ugly shade of piss yellow and cropped badly at my shoulders in a fit of hating my hair. Self cuts never turned out well. I had freckles everywhere and pasty white skin and my eyes were a muddy grey-blue color.
Plain.
Weird.
Scary.
I’ve been called every name in the book, and then some.
Focus.
I had to call Sienna.
This wouldn’t be an issue for a normal teenager. Hell, normal teenagers spent half the day on the phone usually. Not me. Social anxiety, remember? I didn’t talk much, barely at all, I could never sort out my thoughts quick enough and by the time I did the conversation usually moved on or was over. So, I usually stayed silent, I was the weirdo who sat in corners and stared at people.
Anyway. Point is, phones weren’t my thing. I had never called any of my friends; I only spoke to them at school. Weekends were quiet days I spent by myself, usually reading or listening to music alone in my room.
Summer was exceptionally terrible because that was three months of nothing before I was at school and saw my friends again. I hated school, but I enjoyed my new friend group.
This was actually the first summer Sienna decided to do anything for her birthday. She had planned a trip up to a beach house for two weeks. First, we would have a sleepover and barbecue at her house, then a road trip, then camping.
It sounded amazing.
It made me feel normal. To have been invited, to be experiencing a trip like other kids did. I really wanted to go; I didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity. I wanted her to still like me.
I smoothed out the pink paper, picked up the phone, dialed the numbers and waited. My heart hammered in my chest and I forced down the urge to just hang up the phone and try again later. I had to call now, the party was this week-end, summer had started, I wouldn’t get another chance—
“Hello?”
“Oh, uh, I, uh,” I totally screwed up, “Is Sienna there?”
“This is her.”
I didn’t even recognize her voice. “This is, uh, Mollie.”
“Hi Mollie.”
Silence.
I cleared my throat, “I’m calling about the invitation.”
“Oh right.” She said, messing with something, it made a jarring noise in my ear. “I forgot you hadn’t called back yet. Are you canceling?”
“No.” I said quickly, “I was calling to say I could go.”
“That’s great.”
I started to rip the edges of the invitation, trying to calm my nerves, “Yeah.”
“Meet at my house on Friday. Make sure you bring a swimsuit!”
Swim suit?
I don’t think I owned one.
“Okay.”
“Good. Was that it?”
“Yeah. Uh, thanks.”
“No problem.”
I paused, she didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. I panicked, “Bye!” I slammed the phone down on the receiver.
Stage one complete.
I didn’t know it then, but this party would change my life.
I still have that invitation in a shoe box under my bed.
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