Micro fiction by by Cecilia Kennedy

Final Girl Party

Sprinkles and icing whirled in sparkly glimmers at Kristie’s eleventh birthday party. We jumped and twirled while a popular song played on the radio—a song we’d heard a million times, relegated to backdrop music, just sounds, really. It had a thrumming, pulsing beat, but all I could think about was sugar and prizes and cake. Iridescent Pegasus wings poked out from one of Kristie’s gifts, and I wanted to run my fingers across the shine, feel the plush, hold it close between sips of cherry punch and more twirls until the edges of the rec room blurred. Toys, the color pink, and faraway adventures that lived on fluffy clouds were still well within reach, as far as I knew. But when I stopped spinning to take a breath, amid the shrieks and giggles, Tanya said, “Watch this.”

Tanya danced, swaying her hips from side to side, thrusting her pelvis back and forth. She placed her hands on either side of her body and dragged her fingers down the length of her hips. Then, she rubbed her hands across her chest and backside. Her lips puckered as she continued moving to the beat. With one hand, she undid her ponytail, letting her hair fall loose, her hips keeping time with the music, her pelvis undulating, her wild hair spilling over her shoulders. 

Every eye was on her, but we didn’t say anything. We didn’t join her, either because we didn’t know how, and we weren’t ready to learn. There was candy to eat and ice cream, too, and I sense we just couldn’t understand how Tanya could keep dancing like that, when every slice of cake at Kristie’s party was perfect. How could there be anything else?