Work Text:
Homecoming, 2005.
Patricia spent the evening dreading the evening. She cried and reapplied her mascara and then cried again. She questioned whether she should run her car into every telephone pole she drove by. She felt light-headed just thinking about going to this dance. She was a quiet and reserved girl who hated large events. She had skipped every event her school had hosted-- but since it was senior year, her friend, Joey, convinced her to at least come to their last homecoming. Her hands fiddled with the driver's wheel as she nervously stared through her window at the entrance to the gymnasium. She didn't have a date, and her friends Joey, Andie, and Pete were already inside. She was excited to see Pete because Patricia liked Pete more than anyone else. Pete was a girl with a boy’s name. Her full name was Petunia but believing it was too silly, she shortened it to Pete. Pete was not like Patricia at all. She was popular and did cool things like smoke weed and write edgy song lyrics. She had perfect tanned skin and perfect silky black hair that reached her butt. She was taking a boy to the dance. They met last year in history class because Pete needed help with her project about music from the 50s. Pete’s hobbies were playing soccer and listening to pop punk on the radio and watching old movies. Patricia’s only hobby was music. She let her head fall onto the steering wheel and jumped back into place after a loud beep sounded from her parked car. No more waiting. I need to go inside, she thought.
The inside was loud. Patricia felt a lump in her throat as she tried maneuvering through the crowd into the building. She despised being touched. A local band played on a portable stage, and attendees pooled around them, dancing to the upbeat rock music. She tried to stay near the entrance, but it was crowded to the point where people pushed her into the mob formed around the band. The people around her were like crashing waves, shoving her helpless self around. She felt like she was drowning in this auditorium, overstimulated and sweaty, her pits soaking into her dress. They were going to knock her over and trample her to death, her poor flattened ribs and pooling blood would coat the bottom of their shoes and they would spread all of it across the shiny floor. She had trouble siphoning air into her lungs, her head throbbed with every loud bellow from the speaker's bass. She felt like she could die, she was literally going to die! But then she threw her head up and saw an angel.
“Patty! Hey, you good?!” the angel asked. Patricia mustered up a weak “yeah,” as she stared straight into the eyes of the girl holding her. She was never able to hold eye contact with Pete, but it was easier for her this time because her glasses were foggy. Pete ushered Patricia over the wall and told her to sit put as she ran off to grab some punch. Patricia lolled her head, her eyes fluttered and her vision blurred. After a minute that felt like a thousand minutes, Pete returned with a cup of fruit punch.
“I saw you get sucked into that massive crowd,” Pete started, “I know how much you hate sweaty enclosed spaces, so, my brain went all ‘superhero’ mode and was like ‘I need to save her!’” Pete chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood– but it was clear that she was shaken from the entire ordeal.
Patricia didn't know how she felt about Pete. She admired her, but obviously not from a place of envy–because if it were from a place of envy, she would feel resentment. But she didn't feel any resentment toward Pete, it was more of an infatuation. The kind that keeps a person up at night, thinking about seeing their face the next day, or thinking about them when you see something beautiful. But it wasn't love, was it? No. She didn't want to believe it. But the way Pete's freshly mussed-up hair fell over her golden eyes proved otherwise. Face flushed, she swiftly accepted the drink with a quick thank you and turned away to chug the thing. She choked and coughed a bit, but quickly stopped to not humiliate herself in front of Pete. Pete wasn’t paying attention though, she was looking at the band.
“Those guys up on stage look a lot like us two and the others,” Pete said, “I think the singer is the cutest.”
“Uh–yeah,” Patricia cleared her throat. There was a bout of silence between them that was more deafening than the booming speakers.
“You came alone, right? No date?” Pete asked hesitantly.
“...Yes?” Patricia was embarrassed.
“‘Do you, like, want to dance with me instead? My date was… a no-show.”
Patricia was screaming internally. This was the moment she had been waiting for for months. She shrugged.
The band began to play slower music as if God were watching them. Pete grabbed Patricia’s hand and dragged her to the center of the dance floor. The dim blue light that poured down on them illuminated their pastel dresses. They glowed like stars, crossing each other as their feet moved nearly in tandem– nearly only because of Patricia’s lousy dancing skills in dancing– and the light shards reflecting the disco ball looked like the stardust around them. Pete’s grip on Patricia was strong yet gentle, and she found Patricia’s clumsiness endearing. Patricia’s eyes were glued to the floor so she wouldn't trip over herself—with the occasional glance at Pete staring at her with narrowed eyes, a small smile gracing her lips. They continued to dance and as the song was nearing its close, Patricia mustered up the courage to finally do what she’d only dreamed of doing. She locked eyes with Pete and leaned in, closing her eyes, and waited for their lips to touch– but instead, she was shoved to the floor as a careless dancer bumped into her. The music was loud and upbeat again, too loud, and she began to sweat as she felt the eyes of the people circling her, their laughter was subtle yet deafening. Hyperventilating, she quickly stood up and ran for the door, shoving through people and ignoring the faint call of her name coming from Pete who was still in the crowd. She busted through an exit into the cold night and coughed for air as her hands rested on her knees. She tried deep breaths to calm herself down but she couldn't stop crying. Following behind her, Pete pushed the doors open and sprinted towards Patricia.
“Patty!” she wrapped her arms around Patricia and held her, “Shh… it’ll be okay, deep breaths—okay, sshhhh…” Pete gently whispered into her ear. Patricia felt chills run down her body.
“I’m sorry,” Patricia choked.
“It’s fine, please don’t apologize— you didn't do anything, look at me,” She grabbed Patricia’s face and wiped her tears away with her thumbs—her eyes only focusing on the others.
“I-I’m sorry—I didn't mean to leave you in ther-”
Patricia was cut off by Pete’s lips pressing up against her own. After a moment, Pete pulled away. There was only silence as the two stared at each other. Pete was nervous. Patricia was starstruck. Patricia kissed her back, deeply, parting her soft lips to allow Pete's tongue to enter her mouth. Pete brought her as close as she could, her hand held Patricia's head, playing with her soft hair. Patricia's trembling hands held Pete's waist. They stood underneath a warm lamp post for minutes, embracing each other like they were the only two on earth.