Stand+Still,+Look+Pretty,+by+Sara+K

Wrapped tightly in a towel and drying off her damp hair Iris peered at herself through unperceiving eyes. She was pretty; she had known that for a long time and now gazing at herself, her perfectly shaped eyebrows, the nose that neither stuck out too far nor indented at the bridge, she wondered how she had gotten to this point in her life. She was trapped in that mirror; in the ridiculous notion that perfection and happiness all depend on looks.

Glancing at the clock she noted that only fifteen of her original forty-five minutes were left. She groaned inwardly at the thought of yet another party at Holly’s house, all the plastic smiles and the hair that never moves. Dropping her towel noiselessly to the cold wooden floor she pulled the slinky blue dress over her shoulders.

Tilting her head to the left, she examined herself. Full lips, beautiful hazel eyes that her smile never touched and the long straight hair that had sneaked past her shoulders in the past month. Perfect. That was what the world saw her as; a doll, expected only to stand still and to look pretty.

Five minutes now. She slipped her shoes on and walked gracefully into the crisp night. Holly’s house was a few blocks away but stepping onto the sidewalk she could already hear the booming party music bouncing off all the neighboring houses.

Left, right, left, right. The mantra echoed in her head in a vain attempt not to step on an unlevel chunk of pavement and crumple to the ground. When she approached ‘The Place’ as it was often referred to, she could smell the booze and who knows what else radiating from the very walls of the very place she had been when she discovered how superficial and plastic her life was.

Stepping up to the threshold Iris turned the knob, bracing herself for the full effect of the smells and sounds of the third ‘End of Summer’ party this week. She stepped inside and closed the door tightly behind her as if warning any newcomers to stay away and not think twice about this one house in particular.

This particular party was louder than the others had been and therefore would be over soon. Holly and her not-so-significant other of the night spotted her and waved her over to the couch. She reluctantly made her way to the other side of the room; cautiously stepping over the sprawled out bodies on the floor. She sat down on the yellow cushions that had long ago lost any resemblance to comfort and sprang to her feet once again when a huge clang arose from the adjacent room, even though she knew it was just one of the boys in the other room, probably throwing around plates for fun.

So there she was, standing beside a faded couch wishing to be anywhere other than where she was. She wanted more than anything to run out into the dark night, be enveloped into the unknown and never look back.

But she stood still, she looked pretty.