The dance is in full swing by the time she gets there. Her dress swishes lightly against her thighs as she struts in, proud of her elegant outfit.
As she slips her purse off, she surveys the huge undulating crowd of seniors. Girls were pressed tightly against guys. As she squeezed into the mass of bodies, she looked for her friends.
She spotted them grinding with random guys. They ignored her greeting completely, instead turning their backs to her. Her smile faded. She was pulled back into the sea of bodies, watching forlornly as girls were complimented on their dresses. No one even looked at hers.
Every song was spent dancing awkwardly with other girls. She tries not to glare as guy after guy pulled her group apart. Finally, she is left standing alone. She tries to dance by herself on the edge of the crowd.
A slow song drifts through the speakers. Couples find each other, and friends reluctantly pair up. She stands alone, watching as guys who have no partners scan over her before sitting down. She collapses in a chair of her own, begging herself not to cry. She is the only girl who sits alone.
She thought she looked great. Her legs were long, her hair was freshly straightened. She thought she was pretty. Maybe not beautiful, but definitely pretty. Now she knows she is not. Girls with zits and braces are swaying to the music with boys. The girls who no one talks to have their arms wrapped around guys. She is the only one who sits alone.
She asks the boy she loves to dance. He turns her down. She asks the boy she likes to dance. He says no. She asks the boy she hates to dance. He snorts and shakes his head.
She spends the rest of the night slumped in a chair, crying lightly. She realizes that she is not pretty or liked. She realizes that she is invisible. No matter what she does, she is invisible. She screams. No one looks at her. She punches a wall. No one stares at her. She lies on the floor. People just step over her.
People read about this girl in the papers now. She’s the girl who is expelled for drug usage. She’s the girl who is hospitalized for passing drunkenly out on a street. She is the girl that jumps off a building in her despair.
Only her family attends her funeral. Her obituary is 23 words long, hidden in a corner of the local paper. Her classmates do not notice her absence. Her teachers cannot recall her face.
Her headstone is small and secluded. Far from other graves, her life completes its circle. She lies alone.
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