Short Story - Prom: Recount (English Assessment)

Graduation had fast approached and a sense of adulthood was among every face in the crows. This was Willyama High schools year ten prom, class of 2009. It was November and summer had arrived early. The warm weather caressed each adolescent’s cheek adding a glow to the individuals as the Broken Hill sun always has. This day was ours for the taking, as we’d waited so many years in anticipation to be viewed upon as seniors.

As I was firmly seated in the black ford F250, I peered out of a tinted window; I felt a sea of eyes staring directly at me as if they were waiting to see who was to step out onto the solid ground. An overwhelming feeling, but one of joy and excitement passed through my body like an electric current that radiated from my souls tips’ till it reached the centre of my being, where I became overpowered with happiness making me do nothing but smile. Through her pearly white grin Erin exclaimed, “I’m so excited” with Brodie responding in a soft but believable manner “I know this is going to be the best night ever,” “Yeah but the after party will be better” Jye exclaimed comically.

The door was opened by a man, well presented in a black suit, black tie, black shoes with a white shirt extending his hands as he helped each of us gradually remove ourselves from the truck, stepping out onto the ground, a stance was hardly kept steady, my heels crushing the tiny bitumen rocks beneath my shoes. My eyes were not just met with hundreds staring back but also a sea of colour, these people I had grown up with, me, man and women had never looked so beautiful. Steadily walking to the entrance of the White House, I could see everybody’s name cards lined up in rows along the barely standing table, there were 70 or so people all lined up moving at a fast pace talking only seconds later to enter through the door to stop in awe to view the extravagantly decorated room.

Speeches, talking, dancing, laughing, fun; it really was the time of my life. It felt as though time had stopped, but the hours had kept ticking by. The dance floor was covered in flashing coloured lights, crowded with the eagerly dancing cliques throwing their hands and legs all over the place while singing deafeningly along to the memorable songs on continuous loop. This night was the best it would get, having no parents, no frustrations and the freedom with my friends to do whatever we wished for the night. Hitting almost midnight, each person gradually exited the White House. Walking to Erins’ home we laughed and reminisced on the glorious night that had only just begun, with sore feet and soiled dresses dragging along the ground we finally make it to Erins’.

Invites, people, drinking and the thunderous reverberation of voices, I had at last arrived at the after party, after a night of eagerly waiting. Although my night was carrying on exuberantly as I talked and laughed along with people who I hadn’t talked to in what felt like years, it was soon to quickly diminish with the arrival of the police, as everyone was soon to find out, the host, Alec, shouted from the back door “Quick! The police have arrived!” My stomach dropped, my heart pounded out of my chest, I just froze in one position trying to gain insight into what I was to do next, never had I seen so many cans drop to the floor at one time, a stampede of adolescents rushed towards the back gate, and all ran, down the back lane. As we tried to exclude ourselves from the predicament in which we found ourselves, we were safe and away from trouble, and started our final adventure to my own home, the second last pit stop in the race.

After we gained our thoughts, we started on our final traditional lap, to be at MacDonald’s at six in the morning. To meet all the other class mates and reminisced on the events that had previously happened and have one golden feast which we all craved. The night was over, our prom had finished, and just like many other, I was exhausted. Barely lifting myself into Erins’ fathers rickety truck, I made my way home, my eyes were half shut, burning from the morning sun which I’d seen rise across the break of day. The crack of dawn, a time most would have hated to be up around, but for me it was the best time of my life, most events would never be forgot, and few wouldn’t be remembered. But the dress that was worn would always be a constant reminder of a time in life when dressing to perfection, dancing, running and a more than late arrival back home was the best night of my life.