Girlfriend On Mars

8. "Saving her"

Eight. 

"Saving her." 

Being squashed between two of her close friends in the backseat of a small Honda Civic only heightened Marley's party anxiety. She was wringing her sweaty hands in her lap and attempting to keep her head low while the girls sang off-key. She was so nervous that she could feel her body shivering but no one around her seemed to notice.

Earlier in the evening, Marley had tried to make excuses for her leaving early or not going at all. The girls didn't want to hear it though, they dragged her out to Leanne's car and shoved her into the backseat, forcing her into the centre seat so they could sing loudly into her ears. It was utter torture and it didn't help that Marley's emotions were all over the place. Every little thing over the past week had thrown her into a fit of upset; dropping a pen, missing a shot in soccer, getting the answer wrong in class. She constantly felt tears brimming on her eyelids, threatening to fall in front of everyone around her.

But some of the usual stress had been relieved from her as she hadn't spoken to Jen since the day after practice. The older girl had stopped showing up and she steered clear of her in the hallways too. Whenever it came to science, Jen would turn up ridiculously late then sleep with her head against the desk for the rest of the lesson duration. It was peaceful, even with the older girl's soft sighs of deep sleep beside her. Marley would get a chance to study the infamous, terrifying Jen Archer without fear. She hated to admit it, but Jen looked beautiful- even as she slept on a lab desk. She didn't drool or snore, she didn't grind her teeth and her jaw didn't hang too low. Her plump lips stayed only slightly ajar, shifting gently as she breathed periodically, her lengthy dark lashes fluttered and stirred against her skin as the blonde girl assumed she was dreaming. Her hair always looked dishevelled when she came into class yet perfectly silky, and it fell in tufts over her pale, moon-coloured forehead.

Marley always furrowed her eyebrows in those moments, knitting them close to the length of her nose, and bit down on her pen in thought. She wondered how Jen, the beautiful, vulnerable Jen that she was looking at, had managed to go to prison, how she managed to fight and be as intimidating as she was. But the blonde was glad that she'd stayed away, allowed space to form again between the once almost-friends. Marley was happy it hadn't got to that stage; she couldn't have allowed it.

When the car stopped outside of a large, suburban house, Marley finally allowed her eyes to rise from her lap. She'd been picking anxiously at a stray thread at the hem of her uncomfortable, skimpy dress. She hadn't chosen it; stupidly, she'd allowed her friends to pick her outfit, but she just felt stupid and embarrassed. It was thin, burgundy, finishing mid-thigh and it had a ridiculous slit up the side. As she waddled into the house behind her friends, she desperately tried to pull it down to a sensible length, but it would tug tightly on her shoulders every time she did.

The house didn't look too wild from the outside but once on the inside, Marley witnessed how manic parties could be. All the lights had been turned out to allow for multi-coloured strobes to light up the room, all furniture aside from a few couches had been moved to the far corners of the room so a makeshift dance floor could be formed. People were mostly just sat on it or swaying drunkenly beside friends. But it was crowded, and there was a lot of alcohol.

Marley shuffled behind her friends, already feeling true panic set in under her skin and in her chest. She didn't want them to see her fear, so she bowed her head and tried to watch their feet as they moved. It was difficult because after a few minutes they seemingly blended with all the other feet in room. She tried to pinpoint Mya's black kitten heels, but she noticed another girl that had the same—and then another.