#ml nolan

The sound of tearing fabric echoes against the tile walls.

My Aunt Debbie’s vintage prom dress rips on the bathroom door as I hurl myself inside the stall. Before surveying the damage, I lock the door, flop down onto the toilet lid, and bury my face in my hands.

It really feels like the way they show it in the movies—that horrible moment where everything goes from mildly crappy to absolutely unbearable. The music fades until the beat gets so faint all you can hear is your ears ringing, and you don’t even notice yourself move until you’re already running away.

One second I was drowning in bass and strobing lights at my senior prom, the next I was speed-walking through the Malibu Bentmore Hotel, further and further away from the ballroom, trying to find a bathroom that didn’t have a line down the hall. And the thing that set it all in motion was stupid Craig Cline finally saying what everyone had been thinking about me for the past few months.

“Dude, can’t you take a hint?”

I should have seen this coming when I found out the rest of the AV Club was going out for burritos every Wednesday without me. I definitely should have put it together when I wasn’t invited to pre-prom dinner. But no. I couldn’t get it through my thick head until someone spelled it out for me.

“The only reason we picked you up at all is because your mom and Jeremy’s mom are friends. Go be a pain in the ass somewhere else, Jessie.”

A blog I read said that, in a high school romcom, prom is like the the high school equivalent of a wedding. Everything that's been building to this moment is out on the dance floor. The heroes get their happily ever after; the losers get their comeuppance, and the rest of and the rest of the people just blend into the background. Throughout high school, I figured I was a background character, but I've never felt more like a loser than right now.

With a hiccup, I tear off a few squares of toilet paper and dab under my eyes. They’re soaked immediately, gummy with Great Lash mascara. Now if I leave this bathroom, everyone will see that I’ve been crying. Of course, that thought makes me cry harder.

As I’m taking a big gulp of air between sobs, the door opens and chunky heels clonk on the bathroom tile. I slap both hands over my mouth and go totally still, breath stacked up in my chest like a traffic jam.