Wednesday, Thursday, Friday…that’s three days to go. Wait, no, it’s two days, Friday shouldn’t count, should it? But what if I only get it later in the day? I know how she is, she has no urgency when it comes to me and my needs. I mean, she never bothers to ask anything about me, whether I’m happy, how school is going, have I eaten, none of these things. Isn’t a parent’s job to worry about her kids? But am I not being too hard on her? I mean, she has three kids and is responsible for all of us by herself…
“Mimi…”
“Mimi…”
Wait, is someone calling me?
As I jump out of the bed, I see Amanda poking her head into my flat. Her eyes travel from the kitchen counter to where I am standing. She looks at me top-down. She frowns, and sighs.
“Mimi, I’m going out,” she says. Then she proceeds to shut the door and disappear into the hallway.
What was that about? She always tells me she is going out. I don’t get it. Why is she telling me that? We’re not friends so why does she insist on telling me that she is going out. I check the time on my watch. It’s 6 pm. Oh, that’s what the frown and sigh were about. I am already in my pyjamas and my curtains are drawn.
I know the sun is still up, but I am not going anywhere. Contrary to popular belief, not every millennial likes to go clubbing or whatever ‘going out’ means. I am a homebody through and through.
“She doesn’t know that, does she?” says the annoying little voice in my head.
Should I run after her and ask her to buy me bread and some eggs, and promise to pay her back when I get my allowance?
No, I don’t know her like that and it’s embarrassing to ask for help, especially from a stranger. Well…technically, she is not a stranger, we live in the same complex and go to the same school. But still.
As I sit on my bed, I notice that there are messages in my class group. About 30 messages, and counting. This is why my phone stays on silent: notifications give me so much anxiety.
I’m in!
I’ll be there!
Coming!
Can I bring friends?
The more, the merrier!
What are these people talking about? Study group? Wait, the more, the merrier? That sounds like party-talk. A party on a Tuesday? Is this what first years do in these prestigious schools? Anyway, not my business. I don’t do parties. The fewer people I am around, the better. Alone is even better than that.
As I scroll down, reading more messages, I notice words that trigger me considering going to this party.
Free food, count me in!
Should I go? What am I going to wear? What am I going to do when I get there? Just eat, and come back? What if they try to talk to me? Nothing nauseates me like small talk. I won’t go.
I hear my stomach growling just as I come to the conclusion that I will stay put.
F*ck!
I walk towards my cupboard, and I count exactly one tin of fish, one packet of soup, a cup of rice, two packets of noodles, a box of cornflakes, and four tea bags. I don’t even need to check the fridge, all I have there is milk.
I’ve already had a packet of noodles with the last eggs when I came back from school, I need to be frugal until Friday or Monday.
Blue dress? Too short.
Yellow dress? Too formal.
Jeans and a shirt? Not a party look!
I stroll closer to the mirror, press the red dress against my chest and legs to measure if it goes above my knees or not.
It’s long enough. This will do!
Should I put on make-up? No, I’m too lazy and too hungry for that much effort. It’s not like I’ll stay there and socialise, one hour tops and I’m back by 9 pm.
As I grab my black sling bag, I think to check more messages in the group to see who exactly will be at this party. I scroll all the way to the top, and there it is, in caps.
WEAR WHITE OR NO ENTRY!!
Why do people make life difficult? What is the reason for themed parties? To look like several twins? Ugh. The only white clothing items I have are 1) a cropped top, 2) an oversized shirt, and 3) that repulsive taffeta dress my aunt bought me, I think to punish me for existing. I’d rather die than wear that and be a school clown for the coming three years!
Tell us: How do you feel about going to parties?