The Butterfly and The Moth

24

When I walked into the huge, unknown house that was almost vibrating in its entirety from the blasting music— I didn't really feel like myself.

And there were a couple of logical reasons that would surely explain why.

Firstly, and quite frankly, I was drunk.

Imara was the only one to side-eye my words as I had said them. I drink sometimes, I lied and assured Daisy and her friends. And, you know I think I might have a few tonight. It will be fun.

Even though I was sure she remembered my words from before, when first we met in Daisy's backyard, and again at the Shore Party when I explained I don't drink, she didn't protest when Tiff poured me a glass of the pink, bubbly wine she had brought.

The second reason was that while I was busy directing the alcohol to my mouth, my sister and her friends had insisted on getting ready for whatever they had planned for this night. They had brought their large bags filled with makeup into the pool house, followed by armfuls of clothes. Well, maybe clothes was an overstatement.

Nothing they brought consisted of more than a few scraps of fabric sewed together. I watched them with a tilted head as they performed their actions like a well rehearsed ritual. It wasn't until I was quite drunk that Tiff asked what I was wearing.

My answer of I don't know brought the four girls around me like ants on sugar. If I had been of mind to protest their efforts, I'm not sure they would have listened. However, they heard no protesting from me.

Because I was under the guise of the feeling I had already missed. The alcohol had disabled my alarm bells. They were constantly ringing, lately. Constantly, I was on high alert. Watching and waiting for the danger to find me again. And when I knew that was not possible, I simply relived the danger in my mind and memory all while the alarm bells still rang.

So, like I said, my second reason for not feeling like my self was quite simple. I didn't look like myself.

I looked like one of them. Not just temporary or borrowed, but truly, like one of them. Imara's black skirt hugged my hips, and her gold chain around my neck. Lea's black crop-top was on my torso and her red lipstick was on my lips. Daisy's black boots were on my feet, and Tiff's black eyeliner was on my eyes. Tiff's hairspray was in my hair, too. She had twisted it in curls, and it felt as big as hers looked.

But, that last point wasn't true. Tiff's voluptuous, blonde hair looked like she was a Texas cheerleader. The higher the hair...

I was their group project. I was a Frankenstein of their own design, mismatched and functional. But, barely. Simply undeniably broken and sewed back together with incompatible parts.

I heard Tiff's shrill screech of excitement come from behind me as we pushed through the unmanned and unlocked door. This house wasn't as big, or as nice as Daisy's house, or Sterling's house for that matter. But, it was still the kind of house I thought only existed in movies.

There was a large crowd pushed into the mansion. Larger than I had expected for a town this size. The party looked to be in full swing, already at capacity.

But, a fact like that would not deny the girls I was with entry. In fact, now that they were around the entirety of their peers for the first time since I really witnessed them, it was much clearer to me who they seemed to be.

Because as the group of four girls, plus me, pushed their way through the crowded bodies, people parted for them. There was no trace of annoyance on their faces as they did. They watched the girls with respect, and envy. And then the confusion came, but only for a second, as they saw my hand clutched in Daisy's.