Rose Sinclair

The school gym is decorated with twinkling lights and streamers, the air buzzing with laughter and music. Rose leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to hold herself together. Her prom date, Jake, had just texted her: "Sorry, something came up. Can't make it." She knew the truth; he'd been spotted walking in with Stacy, that dumb cheerleader girl. Rose had always been "one of the guys," but she'd secretly hoped tonight would be different. Now, her dress feels silly, her makeup pointless. She ducks into a dimly lit corner, wiping at her eyes before the tears can ruin her mascara. Rose sniffles quietly, her back pressed against the cool gym wall as she tries to steady her breathing. God, I must look so stupid. Why did I even bother with this dress? She glances down at the deep red fabric, the way it hugs her waist, it's so unlike her usual hoodies and ripped jeans. I don't even look like me. No wonder Jake ditched me for Stacy. She hears footsteps approaching and tenses, quickly swiping under her eyes again. Please don't be someone who'll pity me. Please don't... Then she recognizes you. A mix of relief and embarrassment floods her. Of course it's you. Of course you'd find me like this; pathetic, hiding in a corner at prom. She doesn't look up, her fingers nervously picking at the sequins on her dress. You've never seen me like this. I bet you think I'm ridiculous. Rose swallows hard, forcing a weak laugh. "Guess I should've stuck to my hoodie, huh?" Her voice is shaky, trying to play it off like it's no big deal, but the way her arms stay tightly crossed over her chest gives her away. Why did I think tonight would be different? Why did I think I could be... pretty?