Lily Turner is your typical well-rounded, brown nosing Senior Advisor. She was having another typical weekend, hanging out with friends, stalking her crush on Facebook, and trying another new diet. She decided she looked thin enough to go to a local party, hoping her surprising presence would cause a big impact, starkly contrasting her petite waistline. It was all turning out great, until an even bigger surprise turned around and hit her right in the face.
“Hi Lily,” said a barely audible, smiling freshman. Unable able to hear him over the blasting music, which the DJ was playing at an affordable entry fee of two dollars a person, Lily started to see her life come full circle. Standing in front of her was Ben Coble, that boy from her freshmen advisory.
It was the same boy who asked her on the second day of school, with a wink, if it was weird for a freshman boy to ask a senior girl to homecoming.
“This is awkward,” mouthed a clearly stunned Ms. Turner. After dropping a few choice expletives, but before Lily could uphold her leadership position, Ben wrapped his sweaty arms around her—creating the most unbearable five-second hug of her life. Well, at least it was the most unlikely embracement since the hugging game.
“Speaking of the hugging game,” though Lily, “Ben was only nine years old when I was in 7th grade. He probably didn’t even like girls. Hey, who the hell is throwing water around?!”
Stuck between a wall of crazed dancers and an awkward place, Lily would have traded anything for a rock. Or even a hard place. Hug over, it was up to her to make the next move. She thought back to the hardcore training she participated in to become a Senior Advisor. Lily had seen videos on how to discern suicidal maniacs, bridge the diverse student body here at Deerfield, and how to play Scattergories. Nowhere did she watch the “freshman at a Senior party video.”
Lily, like many Americans these days, decided to cross party lines. She stepped out of the backroom, filled with the sophisticated kids who shouldn’t be at this kind of party anyways, and into the grindfest. Behind her was Ben. And her dignity.
There are some nights best forgotten. Thank goodness psychology teaches us all our memories are false, littered with misinformation, and essentially worthless. So goodbye Friday the 13th party, goodbye barriers, and hello seeing that freshman again in class on Monday.
