Today is the day, the day of the Sadie Hawkins dance.

Guess where I am? At home, on my bed, watching the second season of Dead to Me on Netflix. While the rest of the school is partying away-I've seen their social media posts and news feeds-I'm at home with a shirt that is two-sizes too big and shorts that is a size too small.

I was being serious when I said I wasn't going to attend, and even though Paris talked to me for over an hour on the phone this evening convincing me to change my mind, I'm firm in my resolve to not be part of a sexist tradition. However, I did buy the snacks I was assigned to get days ago and submitted them to Mariah like an offering. It wasn't a problem to get them, it was just the usual chips, dips, candies and soft drinks. Theo was supposed to help me since we were paired together but I didn't tell him.

Ever since our talk, things have been tense and weird. I don't know if I'm the only one noticing it, but we barely say more than ten words to each other. We don't talk in school except for the usual early morning greetings, we barely talk in class, I don't tell him shit about my day anymore and I don't rant to him about how much I hate school.

The worst part is he doesn't even ask.

Mum and Sophie are home and they're watching some reality show on TV, I think it's the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and I'm not interested in that. Reality TV is fake and just scripted television, an exaggerated, unfiltered and unnecessary body double to ACTUAL series which by the way, makes more sense than seeing women bitching about the dumbest of things.

Imagine having a cat fight just because your hairstylist worked for a client who happens to be your rival, then dragging your whole squad to call out the hairstylist on social media because of 'divided loyalty.' Why do they always have to make a volcano out of a matchstick?

But Sophie doesn't see it that way, apparently the bitching, cat fights, name calling, wine throwing and switching sides shit appeals to her in some way. Next to Netflix and Brittany, reality TV is her best friend. Name any reality TV shown on the planet, chances are Sophie has watched it or has an idea about what it's about. Mum watches reality TV too, but not as often as she would like because of work. It's her day off so she's spending time with her favourite daughter…I guess.

Fun fact: Sophie gets her love for the drama and theatrics of reality TV from mum. My earliest memories from my childhood were of us watching Keeping up with the Perry's on this local TV station called OGTV. It was about this couple, Matthew and Lily Perry, and how they managed to keep their dynamic together while raising six kids-five girls and a boy.

It stopped airing last year after twenty seasons and I know that because all the major news channels on Instagram wouldn't shut up about it. They've had the longest running reality family TV show in American history and probably made millions of dollars over the years so it came as shock when they decided to wrap it up.

I don't know how they were able to have cameras following their every move for twenty plus years without feeling uncomfortable. I for one would not be pleased but anything for the money I guess.

My phone buzzes on my bed and I hit pause on my laptop. With a sigh, I open my phone and tap the message that popped up.

Jason: You here?

The dance started an hour ago.

Mel: No

Jason: You were really serious then

Mel: I don't joke about shit a lot

I explained to him why I wasn't interested in the dance and he understood. He's a very good listener. We texted each other till three am yesterday and it was nice, platonic and innocent. It was just about random and embarrassing shit like what's the worst prank you've pulled or what's the worst horror movie to come out of Hollywood. (It's the Scream franchise but he believes it's the Sharknado franchise).

We've not talked about his proposed date and he hasn't pushed the subject.

I will accept his proposal. When? I don't know.

Jason: I know

Jason: Wish you were here

Jason: It'd be so epic if you came

Paris' dresses stare at me on the hanger in front of my closet and for a second, just a small second, I contemplate making a change in decision. They are pretty, almost too pretty to not be worn. Like she explained, one is a maxi dress-a striped black and orange number with a deep V neckline from Saree. It looks more like a wedding dress but it's really comfortable.

The other is velvet-a strappy, short, pink sexy number from Christian Siriano.

Mel: Have fun

But not too much fun because if I see a picture or a video of another girl doing so much as touching his arm, I'm throwing hands…respectfully though.

See what he's doing to me? I'm not possessive…ever. I wasn't possessive when I was with Bob, but with him, it's like I'm a whole different person. Last week, a cheerleader, Sonya, was all over him like a vine at the popular table and he tried to pry her hands off him but she was holding on for dear life and blatantly flirting with him. She took Mariah's spot since Mariah doesn't sit at the popular table anymore. I guess it's awkward for her since Jason is her ex and people know that they're not together anymore.

Anyway, I wanted to throttle Sonya.

Point. Blank. Period.

I was burning so many holes at the back of her head and prayed that her fingers would fall off or she'd have a mini accident and disappear. In fact, with the amount of holes I was burning, it was a miracle she didn't drop dead. My inner Hulk, the one I didn't even know existed until that day, was threatening to come out in full force but I composed myself.

I'm not a violent person and I sure as hell didn't want to make a scene and tell her how pathetic she looked.

Jason is mine.

Yes, I said it, he's mine.

Even though I haven't agreed to his date, he's mine and I'd be damned if I let him slip away.

Mel: How bad do you want me there?

Jason: So bad.

So bad!

Jason: I'm bored

Mel: It's a dance. How can u be bored?

Jason: Everyone's dancing and I'm on my phone

Mel: You can dance solo

Jason: Not interested

Jason: There's someone I'd rather dance with and she's not here

My cheeks go crimson red and I'm starting to regret not asking him. Maybe if I wasn't such a staunch feminist, we'd be laughing, dancing and announcing to the whole school that we're a thing.

Mel: Who's that?

Jason: You, Princess. No one else but you

Mel: Way to make a girl blush

He doesn't respond after that and I plug my phone into the charger.

He wants to dance with me. ME!

Let that sink in.

........

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

''Mel come downstairs, dinner is ready.'' Sophie yells and I sigh.

Please God, don't let it be asparagus soup.

With my feet in my grey fluffy slippers, I trudge down the stairs in a robe, already exhausted. Watching stuff makes me easily exhausted, that's why I don't do it too often. It's the first time in a long time I'm settling to watch a series and I'm surprised I haven't slept off yet. Okay, it's not that surprising. Christina Applegate is really funny.

''What are we having?'' I kiss mum on the cheeks and settle on the chair next to my sister. We rarely have dinner as a family in our quaint dining room so this is a nice set up.

''Jerk chicken and fried rice from mum's favourite Jamaican restaurant.''

''The same one you ordered when I was in the hosptital.''

Mum nods. ''That's the one. I'm too lazy and much too tired to cook. But this will not be a habit. It's back to asparagus soup for you two from tomorrow.''

We both groan in annoyance and I serve my food on my plate from the centre dish. ''So, Mel. How's school?''

''School's school,'' I shrug. ''There's a dance today. It's still going on.''

Mum looks at me in surprise and Sophie shakes her head. ''Why are you here then?''

''Because she has no one to go with, mum.'' Sophie says with a snort and I shoot her a dirty look.

Mum reprimands her with a spoon. ''Sophie Magdalene Jones, respect your older sister.'' She turns to me. ''I'm sure you had a lot of people who asked you.'' There's only one person I'd want to go with though.

I wish you went so I'd have taken pictures before you left,'' she sighs. ''I don't have pictures of you at any dance.''

Because I don't frequent Adelaide dances.

''It doesn't matter,'' I shrug, supressing a blush. ''It's the Sadie Hawkins and I don't go every year.''

''See mum, I told you she had no one to go with.''

I'm starting to think Sophie is trying to spite me.

''Behave.''

I kick her from under the table, making sure it hurts and she screams. ''Mum, Mel hit me from under the table.''

What are you, five?

''I did no such thing.''

''Did too.''

''Did not."

''Both of you need to stop arguing,'' Mum cautions and her tone tells me if she tells us to stop arguing one more time, we'd have her plastic spoon thrown at our heads.

I'm not too grown to have a spoon thrown at my head.

Living in a black household pro-tip: Anything can be used as a weapon and can be thrown at you at any time especially when you make your parents mad-spoon, belt, shoes, slippers, you name it, they can throw it. However, their preferred assault rifle is slippers and a belt.

''Yes, mum,'' we say simultaneously.

I dig into my chicken and we hear the doorbell ring. We all stare at each other in question and I shrug. I'm not expecting anyone.

''I'll get it.'' Mum says in finality and wipes her mouth with a napkin.