Penelope quickly slipped into her bathrobe when she stepped out of the shower, using the light blue terry cloth as armor to shield her body from her own harsh views. Granted, with all the additional exercise she had been getting lately she had probably dropped a pound or two, but it was just habit to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible and conduct any critical physical examinations in the privacy of her room. Although… maybe, if she had lost any weight, it would make her feel better, given what night it was.

Prom night. Penelope hated to even think about it. She had not been one of the teary-eyed teenagers who had asked for parental consent and been denied nor one of the excited, chittering girls talking about the color and cut of their dresses or what gloves and shoes they had found to match. No, Penelope had been the girl sitting at a lunchroom table who could not help but hear all of these conversations as she tried in vain to read the book in front of her. She had no date, no dress, no cluster of intimates with which to discuss her feelings about the prom.

The girl toweled her hair dry and tried to tell herself how foolish she was being. She hadn’t asked to go to the prom; she hadn’t shown that she had any interest in the event at all. If she had, her mother would’ve delighted in helping her search for a dress and arranging to get her hair and nails done, and her father would have quietly, almost shyly presented her with a matching corsage and would have encouraged her to have fun and please not stay out too late. It was her fault, and no one else’s, that she wasn’t attending the prom. She would still protest to anyone who asked that she didn’t want to go to the prom itself because that was, at its core, true. The one other dance she had been to, in middle school, she had been forced to attend and had hated every minute of. But knowing that didn’t change what she had wanted when overhearing the buzz around the cafeteria.

She had wanted to reassure those who had been denied permission to attend the prom that there would be other dances, she had wanted to tell the girl with long, streaming red hair about this jade hairpin she had seen while shopping the other day that sounded like it would perfectly match her Chinese inspired attire, she had wanted to drop a hint so that the cluster of guys muttering about how hard it was to find a date could figure out which girls were moaning about the same problem… but despite all of these wants, she had done nothing. No, she had sat without saying a word to anyone, listening to those around her until the lunch bell rang, signaling that it was time for all the students to return to class. No one asked her anything, not about fashion or whether or not she could and/or would be attending the event. All of this energetic frenzy seemed set, following pre-determined paths and allowing her no way to enter herself.

As she tore through the tangles in her hair, Penelope admitted that she had also not tried to enter. If she had took a step towards her goal, made an offhand comment, politely entered someone else’s conversation, then surely someone would’ve allowed her in, at least listened to what she had to say. But… how could she just invite herself in? Everyone else seemed to have people to talk with… they didn’t need anyone else. And if they didn’t need anyone else, they certainly didn’t need her.

Still, as she finished her nightly routine and slipped into bed, flopping her head onto her favorite pillow, Penelope had one thought to console her. Maybe… maybe I’ll be able to join in with everyone next year… maybe... maybe I'll find someone who needs me... wants to talk to me... take me to dance... maybe next year...

[OOC Note:
Participant: Penelope Seneca
Player: Quicksilver the Archangel
Word Count: 681 ]