"I can't believe you did all this," Alana breathed, looking around the carefully decorated room in an unimaginable awe. "For me."
"Well, you are my best friend," I stated sincerely, holding my hand out towards her casually. "Come on. I'll show you around the place."
She gladly took my offered hand and we walked off into the darkness. After giving her an undivided tour of the house that was specifically arranged for her, she pulled me onto the dance floor where the song "All Around The World" was blasting out of the over-sized speakers.
I followed her, a bit dumbfounded. "Al, I thought you hated rap."
"I do," she simply replied and began to dance clumsily around the spot lit floor. "But it's sure nice to dance to." She kept on steadily stumbling on her own two feet, and soon dragged me into the absurd dance. Soon we were both stepping all over the guest's and our own feet with our unbalanced steps and anything else in the vicinity.
The song soon faded out and the lights grew dim. I smiled happily to myself. I had given Zac and my dad the uninviting opportunity to be in charge of the light scheme, and, to my own disbelief, they readily agreed. Whether they had the slightest clue of what they were doing or not, they were doing one hell of a job. The ever familiar opening notes of the song "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden gently glided out of the speakers, enthralling everyone onto the dance floor. Soon the groups began to migrate into couples, and were swaying to the mellow tune. I looked before me and there stood Alana, eye shimmering, hair and skin shining. We didn't have to openly admit it; we both vigorously wanted to dance with each other.
Alana took a tentative step closer to me and I placed my arms around her hips. She stood up a bit and slung her arms around my neck, crossing her trembling wrists in the back. I stepped even closer to Alana so she could stand at a comfortable length below me; we were still quite different height wise. She inhaled deeply, and contentedly rested her head on my chest, where my heart was bouncing around like a Mexican jumping bean. We swayed in perfect unison to the melodic tune, feeling comfortable and content, though utterly nervous and standoffish at the same time. The song faded out of the speakers as swiftly as it had come, and Alana and I pulled apart very reluctantly.
We just stood there, almost like fully-dressed Greek statues, gazing dazedly into each other's eyes. What I saw in Alana's eyes was not a passion, but a love so strong that it was completely indescribable. I was unexpectedly awakened from my seemingly never-ending trance by a harsh tap on the shoulder. I whirled around abruptly, only to face one of my best male friends, Adam Boisher.
He looked very startled at the mere thought of me dancing with Alana, I could vividly tell, but kept his mouth shut, listening to his demented thoughts for once.
"Uh, where's the bathroom?" he inquired rather rudely, accurately imitating Butthead, possibly not even intentionally doing so.
I chuckled at my friend's mimicking of the idiotic cartoon character, and pointed east of the spot where I was so rightfully standing.
"Thanks," he replied in regular Adam voice and stepped past me. On his casual way by, he gave me an exceptionally hard whack on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of me. I coughed unexpectedly, and looked over at Alana with eyes truthfully apologetic.
"Uh, I'm going to um, get something to drink," Alana stammered, suddenly finding the heavily tiled floor immensely intriguing. "Do you want anything?" she added tentatively when she saw my puzzled glance shot in her direction.
I shook my head, the confused expression not leaving my face. "No thanks," I replied, my voice equally monotone. I watched her walk away slowly, then reluctantly turned away to respond to a few people who were preoccupied with shouting my name at an impeccable level several consecutive times.
When the party finally came to it's conclusion, I trudged up the whirling staircase to the sloppy room of which I shared with my two siblings that were closest to my age vicinity, tired, puzzled, and hurt. Ever since Alana went to get that drink, I didn't see the faintest glimpse of her for the rest of the unusually sullen evening. I questioned every guest I came across (which were quite a few, mind you), and they hadn't a clue where my best friend was. I searched the house inside and out, yet still couldn't find any trace of her. The seemingly never-ending party finally came to a dead end, and all the guests filtered out the door, mumbling words of thanks and praise as they retreated back to their freezing cold cars where their parents were impatiently awaiting their arrival. I stood by the door loyally, common sense (or what I had left of it) telling me that she would have to come out of the house sometime. But she never appeared. I soon lost hope and left my mom to usher the wearisome guests out of our humble abode.
I flopped down on my bed, discouraged, and heaved a stressful sigh. My brothers and I had planned this seemingly perfect party for my best friend, and she didn't even thank us, or merely show up for a quarter of the time. Strangely enough, I wasn't angry. Not even the slightest bit ticked at her actions. Just hurt…hurt that whatever I did emotionally or physically during that one harmless dance seemed to shatter her so much to the point where she couldn't even take the slightest glimpse of me or my family, for that matter. As I tried to sort out my strewn-about thoughts, Ike emerged from the closet, muttering to himself under his breath, yet at a decibel level loud enough for me to hear.
"Ike, I just have one question," I began. "Why in the world were you in the closet?"
Ike grimaced and stopped his incessant yapping. "I can't find the stupid thing." He crouched down on his hands and knees and began to search endlessly under my bed for the unknown object. I hadn't a clue of what my older brother had lost. For all I knew, it wasn't even tangible.
"What?" my voice was once again monotone, and scared us both immensely by slightly resembling Daria, a cartoon that my family hates, but Alana loves. I shuddered at the mere thought of sounding like a girl that dressed in the same identical outfit every consecutive episode, and attempted to clear my throat of whatever had caused the sudden voice change.
"Nevermind, I'll find it later," Ike contradicted himself, acting like the object (or what not) he'd lost didn't matter any further in his expedition.
I laughed shortly at my seemingly disturbed brother's queer actions, attempting to ease the atmosphere. Unfortunately, he noticed that something was very wrong and he would not let it go by him, just like the lost object had, whatever in God's name that may be.
"Anyway, enough about my carelessness," Ike shrugged it off nonchalantly. "Why are you up here so suddenly?"
I groaned indescribably, and rolled over dramatically. "I danced with Al."
Ike eyed me matter-of-factly. "Yeah, I think the whole party knew that. So, what's up?"
"I danced with Al," I repeated stubbornly, not revealing any information for my curious older brother to unfold.
"Tay, snap out of it, man," Ike warned, now on the verge of sounding the tiniest bit concerned. "What's wrong with that? With dancing with Alana, I mean."
"She's my best friend," I replied, my voice metamorphosing into the monotone cartoon character's voice which it had been previously resembling. "People don't dance with their best friends. Even if they are of the opposite sex. It's just not something you'd do."
"Then why'd you do it?" Ike questioned me, blinking expectantly at me, as if the answer would just drop to the carpeted floor before him.
"I don't know, Ike." I couldn't even recognize my own voice at this point. "I really don't know."
