A Night at Nancy's

         I remember the day before I went away for the summer very vividly. It's an odd memory; it only comes to me when the wind is blowing, and only recedes from my mind as the wind settles. There was indeed a strong breeze that day as well, along with a storm that kept me indoors. Some nights I wonder what life would be like had the storm not occurred. If anything that transpired that night would've happened had I not ended up where I did. My life has changed very much since that day. These days I'm not very much sure what life is, especially a life without Nancy.

         Nancy showed up at school one day in April. I still remember how she looked. She had long, beautiful black hair, all tied up behind her head in a ponytail that extended almost to her shoulders. She had a pale complexion, with freckles under both of her big brown eyes. Her red lipstick and glasses matched her bright shoes, with white stockings extending past her knees and out of sight, covered by a blue plaid mini-skirt. Her shirt was covered by a cute little denim jacket, one that was too small even for a stick-thin girl like her. I didn't know what to think of her, but I could tell as she walked from the classroom to the empty seat next to me I would either love her or hate her. She had a confidence to her. And confidence was always either good or bad, never in the neutral.

         I ruled my school. The most popular girl in class, at school, maybe the town, or possibly even the state. It seemed like everyone knew me. Everyone who came from afar already knew me. But Nancy was different. Nancy didn't just not know me, she didn't care to know me. It surprised me how infuriated I became. Several days had passed, and she was already reduced to a nobody in most minds; when you don't acknowledge the queen you get treated like a peasant. It was like she wasn't even there as if nobody even noticed her. But I noticed her. And when she caught me glaring at her, she responded with a smile, that kind of smile that you only show someone you really love- or someone you really hate. A smile of pure joy, pure content, pure happiness. A smile of a defiance of law, of code, of order. And that cracked me.

         Schemes, plots, plans; created, but for what? Even I didn't know. I needed vengeance and I needed it fast. And vengeance took its merry time like a snail on a wet driveway. Everywhere I looked I saw that smile. I could see her smile a million times on my bedroom ceiling. That smile broke me, reduced me to nothing, brought me to my knees begging for mercy. It had a noticeable effect: I suddenly started losing support from traitors disguised like my friends. My grades started to diminish, a rotten stench emanating from report cards. I began to put on weight, eating away my stress to no avail. Nancy took the status that took me nearly eight years to build up and got rid of it in two weeks.

         Over the next few months, my position on the social ladder slowly but surely fell. I was just that girl that once had it all. My only solace was thinking about why. Why did Nancy ruin me? It had to be on purpose, right? A smile like that wasn't an accident. At first, I was certain she was attempting to claim her own rise to fame, but it was June and she was just as much of a nobody as ever. My entire life was driven by this question, and at that point, if you had told me there was no answer I would've killed myself. Sometimes I wish I did.

         On the last week of school, I was lost. My parents didn't want me home anymore, and no colleges had accepted me, so I was stuck alone, broken, and depressed. I walked slowly across the street, my only company a can which I had began kicking a few yards back. The can was, at the moment, my closest and only friend. The wind picked up, and the can was blown away into the empty street, leaving me behind like everyone else. I briefly considered retrieving it, but a devouring unwillingness kept me from doing so. So the can just rolled away, and I proceeded towards nowhere alone.

         The storm came in quick. Quicker than I expected, at least. It was pouring, and I was freezing with nowhere to go. I looked around for any help somebody may have been offering. And to my surprise, a single house had its door open, lights blaring with a black silhouette in the doorway. The silhouette of Nancy.

         I almost stayed in the storm. I hated her so much at that point. She had single-handedly ruined my life. We never spoke a word to each other but I know she must feel an equally terrible hatred towards me. Now she was offering, and I was leaning towards a decline. But as the claps of thunder boomed, I chose to accept her offer of hospitality and came running into the house cold.

         I hated myself. There was no way around it. Nancy had yet to say a word, and I already knew my current situation was all my fault. As I sat near the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around my wet and shivering body; as Nancy brewed some tea in the kitchen, its aroma entertaining my nose; as the storm continued to rage outside like an underfed lion, I came to realize Nancy had done nothing. She hadn't done anything, and all of this was my own fault. My own obsession. My obsession with that smile. And as Nancy came back with the tea, I realized it was my obsession with her.

         We both just looked at the fireplace, its crackling the only noise in the room. Nancy had turned to me at some point because when I looked up our eyes met. And again, the same smile was sent my way. But this time, I embraced it. It warmed me even more than the fire could ever hope. And for some reason, I burst out into joyful laughter. And Nancy did the same.

         Her laugh was familiar. It was as if it were my own. It was blissful to laugh, it had been so long. But all good things must come to an end, and soon, my laughter turned to tears, my happiness transformed into sadness. I fell to the floor in agony, realizing everything wrong with me. The world was cruel, and I was its mistress, an equally sinister pawn thinking she could be a queen. Then I felt her embrace; nothing could've been more soothing. My worries faded away and I wiped the remaining teardrops from my cheeks. I looked up and saw my reflection in her eyes. And this time, I was the one who smiled.

         I went to the restroom to clean myself up. I thanked Nancy for all that she had done and she simply nodded. Washing my face, I felt a sudden warmness all again, but this time it was almost searing. I turned to the door to see a bright orange light, its source on the other side. Carefully walking to it, I put the back of my hand up to the door. It burned. Soon fire started to creep in. I fell down retreating, panic taking over my body and adrenaline helping me back up. I turned to see an open window near the ceiling. I managed to climb up and squeeze through, out into the storm. Flames had claimed the building, and I ran out to the front, where the fire department was already spraying the house with a tsunami. There was no sign of Nancy.

         I pleaded the firemen for any confirmation that she was okay, but they said I was the only one to leave the building. I looked back at the fire. A sense of fear and dread engulfed my body faster than the flames that had taken rule over the saint inside the building before me. Adrenaline fled my body and I fell to the ground unconscious.

         I woke up on a hospital bed to a steady beeping. A nurse was by my side, and she was ecstatic to see me awake. Over the next few hours, as I slowly recovered, I remember being asked questions. What was my name? Who are my parents? Any emergency contacts? What school did I attend? I answered each and every one, and of course, none of the numbers they called answered, or at least that's what they told me. I'm suspicious that my parents answered and declined knowledge of who I was. They hid many things from me, but I know one thing for certain.

         They asked me a lot of questions, I gave them a lot of answers. But when I asked, "Where's Nancy?" the response I got was that they didn't know. It wasn't for a couple more days that they finally came back with some sort of answer but they knew from the start that I wouldn't like it, and to this day I regret asking.

         Nancy didn't exist. That home that had caught fire had been abandoned for years. The spot that Nancy filled at school remained empty. She was a figment of my imagination.

         I cried for what seemed like an eternity. It simply couldn't be true. I experienced the many stages of grief over and over again, each layer of my life being ripped to shreds. For years I had to be in a mental health hospital, and for years after that, I had to pay for my time there. Not just in cash, but in memories.

         I still think about Nancy all the time. She's the kind of person that everyone should get to meet at least once their lifetime. I didn't get that experience, so I made my own. Or perhaps, my Nancy is still out there somewhere, just waiting to be found.