A shade of dark blue amongst reds, pretty pinks, and oranges, I was a cold stripe in the heat, wavering. Their eyes were dancing, and their mouths kept moving, but only my heart was humming along.
There I was, sinking into my pool of pity, slowly, and suddenly, all at once. In five different directions, my mind ached for closure—for a moment, alone. There was no reason his words should affect me this way. I couldn't let them affect me this way. I'm a red—not a blue.
The lights were flashing in our eyes, igniting the irises, raising the lashes involuntarily. My feet were colliding with the floor and the streamers, my toes numb from the impact I kept searching for. With every jump, I left him behind. With every fist pump in the air, I propelled my thoughts forward, thinking about how much stronger I am than words. Stupid words.
Sparkles were falling, the same way my heart was. The sounds of voices and song and melody and breath and laughter…they all blended into one chord of chaos that ran through painful circles in my mind. Circles, circles, circles….never ending.
My eyes were glaciers in this red sea of warmth and camaraderie. It didn't matter how many fist pumps cut the air above me, the glaciers were melting. The water was spilling. The crowd shrank behind me as my feet hit the tiles, step by step. I wobbled in my platforms, pathetically pushing the plethora of bodies out of my way. The tap of my heels was drowned by the murmurs and music, with Justin Bieber's "Baby" blaring through my ears, creating a second heartbeat in my body.
Hot tears leaked through my hands. I sat on the toilet seat in my silky purple dress, the black belt pressing into my stomach as I hugged my knees to my chest. My berry-purple lipstick suddenly tasted disgusting, and I wiped my hand across my mouth. As I smudged the fakery and the illusion of beauty I believed in earlier that night off my face—and all to elicit those stupid, stupid words—I wondered quietly about how many girls have spent their eighth-grade dance in the bathroom like me…and whether it was for the same reason.
I looked up at the lights that were oddly dimmed and zeroed my hearing onto the one sink that was eerily running on its own. I narrowed my eyes onto the toilet paper that carpeted the floor—keeping the forgotten, dragged-in streamers company.
I was even all too aware of the burning in my eyes from thick eye-liner and mascara— the burn evoking an inner fire that gave flame to visions of my mother applying the two in the first place. Her warm breath on my face, as she told me, "Laura, you look so beautiful," only gnawed on the blue I am now, the coldness and stiffness in my spirit.
The sound of a creaking door startled me. I knew who those footsteps belonged to right away, yet the uneven tap reminded me once again of the bad decision we all made to wear heels at thirteen. "Laura? Where'd you go? Are you okay?"
"I'm in here," I whimpered, and grabbed some toilet paper to blow my nose.
"What happened? Are you alright? Open the door!"
My eyes shut down, releasing a few cold tears that didn't have the time to make it out before, and I immediately felt the frigid wind course through my body— the cold words slashing through my mouth as I told Carly. I unlocked the stall door and let her embrace me, let her kill the wind with her summery radiance and glow of compliments. Time ceased to exist in those few moments when I realized I was giving him the power to soil my night. He was the black ink I mixed into my white paint of emotion.
The sink was still running, the lights were still barely shining, but my body felt as if it were suddenly glimmering. Carly walked out of the stall, motioned for me to follow, and I stood up, trembling slightly. Red flames pressed on my heart, on my mind, on my tongue, through my fingers, and I felt like dancing and shaking hands with the depth of the music back in the gym.
I straightened my dress. I adjusted my belt. I walked over to the running sink and used the water to clear away the black residue tears illustrated on my face. No more melting glaciers tonight. My eyes were candles. The fire was inside me now—my confidence and love were enough to burn through his darkness and stand tall, so bright. After one last, long, and lingering look in the mirror, I knew that Carly was right.
The crowd around me blurred, but not because of melting glaciers. I was spinning incessantly, resisting the air with my palms, shuffling my feet side to side. Laughter shook in my belly as my friends curved their faces and spun me around and around in circles, circles, circles…never ending.
My cheeks captured the sweetness of the moment in laugh-lines I traced with my finger over and over again. Dizzy and confident, I was in love with my new song. My mind was the melody, the laughter the lyrics—the beat of the DJ took the lead on guitar—the sound of our heels took place of the drums, and his face and his words were a memory long-forgotten. Regardless of his opinion, I felt beautiful in my skin put to fire.
A stark shade of scarlet, orange, and pretty pink, I was the brightest flame in the room, shining and sparkling.
After all, I'm a red, not a blue.
