by Erin Friedrich

Created on: November 06, 2008

She inhaled the crisp evening air that caressed her face and unraveled whisps of mousey brown hair from her braid. The stars above danced over her head; she gazed at them wondering what it would be like to be so far away from here.

"Hey," he cautioned her, with a laugh to disguise the tension. "Maybe you should slow down."

She looked sideways at him, then sped ahead in playful defiance. She wanted to be free, and with speed came release. Along the side of the road, trees and brush were a steady blur of green mixed with early-autumn golds and browns. He never left her side; he was there, right next to her, his hands electrically close, but with aggravating hesitation.

Her thoughts drifted like the leaves in the light breeze, dipping on last week when she had finally been invited to a "cool" party, taking flight again remembering all the hours spent shopping for just the right outfit. Years of using the shy method had failed her; this had been her chance to show them all she was something worth noticing. To show him, she was worth his time and attention.

And now, here they were, bathed in moonlight that outshone any other source of light along the road. Shadows jumped out at every bend, and she was entranced by their dancing and changing shapes.

"You're sure you know where we're headed?" he interrupted her trance. It took a moment for her eyes to focus in on his form in the dark. A beam of moonlight crossed his face like white war-paint: it caught his right eye, like green crystal, traveled diagonal over the bridge of his slightly freckled nose and dissected those soft and inviting lips.

"Mmm-hmm," she answered, smiling at the warmth she felt building in her belly.

As she parked next to the line up of weathered sedans and topless jeeps, she had herself almost convinced that this was a mistake. These were not her people, and this was not where she belonged. The short black dress, the tall leather boots, the eyeliner and lip gloss that had taken hours to perfect were all part of a costume. The irony was, at a costume party, everyone tried to be unique and different: here, she just wanted to fit in.

Desperation and wanting to break free of the chains in her gut that screamed for acceptance had propelled her up the stairs and through the door into the dark fray of music, lights and laughter. The music thumped inside her chestor was that her nervous heartand she heard everything and nothing all at once. Shadowed shapes of people shouted to make conversation above

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