alone-a dale jackson story

1

written october 22nd, 2016

•dale's pov

the first thing i notice as i walk into the overly extravagant house is, frankly, how overly extravagant it is. its outside is plain enough, a large abode but nothing that would make you take a second look. the interior, though--that's another matter.

the second thing i notice is how many people occupy the space already. the party isn't supposed to start until eight o'clock and, as it's only 7:52 now, many people are early. everyone inside looks to be around 17, my age. and most everyone seems to be with a friend, or a, ahem, friend.

the third thing i notice, and most bizarre in this party scene, is the pretty girl sitting alone. she's sitting on the edge of a couch, arms crossed over her chest and stone-faced, like she's either waiting impatiently for something to happen or too many somethings have already happened to her.

for some weird reason i can't really explain, i feel like i need to go to her. i was never one much big on emotions, as i surmise any recovering drug addict with an eating disorder wouldn't be. but i still have this gut-intuition feeling, like she shouldn't be alone.

so i make a beeline for her, narrowly avoiding knocking over a vase when a couple-rhiannon and darron-messily making out bumps into me, causing me to trip. as i walk, someone stops me--a tall, muscular someone, who looks like he's had a bad night and is ready to throw me by the hair into next week. but after a moment of uncomfortable eye contact, his hand drops from my shoulder, a smile breaks across his face and i recognize him--scott. i haven't seen him in so long, as we keep each other at arm's length.

"dale! it's good to see you again." his voice is big and booming and carries throughout the house, but no one really seems to take any notice. i don't reply. scott takes a step back and holds out an open bottle of something, something i don't want to get mixed up with. but i take the bottle hoping he won't say anything and just let me past, and to my luck, he does.

she's only a few meters away now-my head now buzzing with thoughts and anticipation. she doesn't notice me as i walk up to her, or when i fall back on the couch beside her. she only looks up from the floor when i offer her the bottle.

"want some?"

what a great way to start talking to the girl you like.

she looks at me strangely, then takes the bottle, examining it. then she reaches out her arm and proceeds to turn her hand slightly, and with instant reflex my hand goes to her wrist, stopping her.

"what're you doing?" i ask, laughing.

i watch her expression in the dim lighting of the almost-mansion change from angry and stony to familial and intrigued.

"d-dale?"