Under Pressure

Before you start to read this story, let me warn you. This is not a

love story. This is the story about a boy and girl who were in love. In

fact this is my story. My name is Christian, and nine months ago I met

Gloria.

It was September of my senior year, on the night of

Homecoming. I had been with some friends drinking punch that tasted

of Kool-aid and lake water when a girl pushed through our circle said

that she was sorry and ran out the door. My friend Derek turned to me

and asked “What’s up with her? Was she crying?” Derek’s twin, Ian,

was quick to change the subject, “I’m sure she’s fine.” He then lifted

his glass of punch saying, “Guys, a toast.” He paused as he waited for

us to raise our glasses as well. Ian continued, “To our senior year, and

the adventures that follow.” We all drank our punch as the DJ’s voice

came on the speaker. Little did we know that that toast was only the

beginning of the adventure. “Alright, boys and girls, I have one last

song for you guys so find that special person and get on the dance

floor.”

2
 Derek grabbed his date’s hand and left. Ian turned to me and

asked what I was going to do. I told him I was going to go to the park

behind school and wait for them. He smiled as his date dragged him

away. I stepped out the back door of the gym and made my way to the

park.

The night was silent except for the cracking of pebbles under my

dress shoes. The parking lot was wet and dark with the earlier rain. The

street lamps cast a glow on the dark wet ground and made one think if

they were not too careful they could fall into the earth, swallowed up

by Hades’ gates, never to be seen again. As I approached the swing I

noticed that someone was already sitting in one. It was the girl who ran

by me earlier. Now that I was able to get a clear view of her, I see she

is rather attractive. She has light brown hair that curled down and

bounced a few inches below her shoulder. She wore a black dress that

looked like it was made for her and her alone. It had silver stitching

that wove down her body from her neck, leaving designs of flowers in

its wake. Her heels lie on the ground in front of her.

She looked up as she heard me approaching. She wiped her eyes and

tried to act as if she had not just been crying. I grabbed the swing next
to her and jumped onto it, the rusty chain cranked as it carried me and

rocked me back and forth.

“So, how are you feeling?” I asked. I gave her a soft smile as

started to rock my swing.

“I’m fine,” she said and wiped away another tear. She was

swaying slightly back and forth on her swing. She didn’t look up at me;

she just kept staring down at the pebbles that filled the park.

“Well, that’s bull.” I kept smiling at her, waiting for her to return

the gesture whether she felt like smiling or not. She did smile. Maybe it

was due to my sudden frankness or maybe she just was in such a

mood that she was desperate for anything to make her day better. It

was small, but still a smile. I took it with open arms. She looked up at

me.

“Is this how you start all your conversations when it comes to

trying to pick up girls? There was some tension in her voice. She was

still pretty upset. I stopped swinging. I turned to face her and dropped

over my swing so that I was sitting sideways

on it, using one of the chain supports as a back rest. My foot was

propped up, and I used my knee as a hand rest while my other hand

and leg just floated off the ground.

“Not at all, just the pretty ones crying on swing sets.” She

blushed as I said this. “What is it? Hasn’t a guy ever told you that you
are pretty before?” She pushed off the ground and started to swing

slowly. The wind caught her hair and lifted it off her shoulder and neck

as she swung forward.

“Where is your date?” she asked.

“I didn’t bring one.”

“Well why not?”

“I can’t tell you, it’s actually a secret?” She cocked an eyebrow

as I said this.

“Come on, really? Why don’t you have a date?”

“Huh! Fine I shall tell you. The secret is,” I paused for dramatic

effect. I glanced over both my shoulders then turned back to her and

whispered, “girls are scary.” She burst into laughter at my comment.

Her head rolled back, and her hair fell back with it. I could see her face

brighten up a little bit. She had a nice warm laugh, her teeth were

white and perfectly straight, and her voice was rather soothing. “Since

you

are out here alone, am I right in assuming your date is not where he is

supposed to be?” She fidgeted at my question.

“He’s back in there, making out with Claire Sennet,” she stated

in a matter-of-fact tone. She didn’t want to reveal the fullness of her

disgust for the male population at the moment but was fine with letting

off a little steam.

 “Oh wow, that sucks for him.”

She gave me a skeptical look and asked, “How so?”

“He has no idea what he is missing.” She blushed again. I got up

from my swing and went behind her. Grabbing her swing, I pushed her

forward. Then, we started a game of truth, a perfectly harmless game

when it comes to meeting someone new. We simply ask questions

back and forth, expecting the other person to be truthful about it. We

asked about siblings, where we’ve traveled and such.

“So what was your favorite relationship on the tv show “Greek”?

she asked, laughter filling her voice, her anger for her date starting to

dissipate.

“Oh, clearly Cassie and Cappie. They are made for each other.”

“Ha-ha what? Cappie and Rebecca, hands down,” she retorted.

“Cassie and Cappie can’t go for more then two episodes without

fighting, while Cappie and Rebecca never fought!”

“No way!” I defended, “Cassie and Cappie may fight but that

strengthens their relationship. Cappie and Rebecca may have never

fought but their relationship died because of it.”

“Psh,” she dismissed my defense and moved on.

“So, what song was your first slow dance to?” I asked.
 “I haven’t actually had one yet.” I stopped pushing her and

stopped in shock.

“You’re kidding?!” I couldn’t believe what I had heard. “How

have you never slow danced with anyone before?” I started to laugh in

disbelief.

“Well, I don’t usually go to dances. I try to avoid them.” She

seemed hurt that I had mocked her. I stopped pushing her swing.

“Every teenager has to enjoy a first slow dance.” I walked around

in front of her, kicked off my shoes and socks and placed them next to

her heels. I offered my hand towards her. She looked at it, then at me

face. “Would you like to dance?” She

smiled and nodded. She took my hand and got off the swing. I led her

off the gravel swing set to the grassy border encompassing it. I used

my other hand to fish my iPod out of my pocket. The song I picked was

“Like We Used To” by A Rocket to the Moon. I put the iPod in the front

pocket of my buttoned-down shirt that I got at J-Crew the week before.

From the intro to the first verse we dance an awkward distance apart.

It reminded me of 8th grade when at dances, the kids had a wooden

pole shoved between them with the words “Make room for Jesus”

written all over it. God, I was glad to be out of there.

 When the chorus rang out, we became more comfortable and got

closer. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I rested my chin on

her head.

“Does he watch your favorite movies does he hold you when you

cry, does he let you tell him all your favorite parts when you’ve seen it

a million times, does he sing to all your music while you dance to

purple rain, does he do all these things, like I used to.”

Locks of her hair brushed into my face. Her hair smelled of

coconuts and some flower I long forgot the name of. She looked up and

asked what my name was. I looked down; we were so close that our

lips were just inches apart. I looked into her deep

green eyes that glowed like emeralds in the moon light. Getting over

my moment of hesitation, I told her my name was Christian. She

smiled, “My name is Gloria.” She pursed her rosy red lips and looked

back down at my shoulder. We didn’t talk for the rest of the song.

When the last chorus died down we kept dancing straight into the next

song.

Halfway through “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain my name was called.

We stopped dancing, and I turned to see my friends coming up the hill.

Ian shouted up the hill, “Hey, Christian, we’re heading back to your

place for the after party right?”

“Yeah!” I shouted back. I turned to Gloria, “Hey, do you need a

place to go tonight?” She seemed a bit taken back by my question.

“Oh, well, I don’t know. I should probably be heading home.”

Upon hearing this Derek decided to chime in. “No way, it’s a Friday

night, we won our Homecoming, game and we are young! You are

coming with us.” Gloria blushed a little bit again, then

nodded, “Yeah, I’d like that.” I smiled and held out my hand. She

grabbed it, and we all made our way to my car and then to my house

for pizza…

I lifted my pen from the story I was writing. It was actually more

of an autobiography. It was called Tied Down in the Race for Love. I

decided to write about my high

school experiences and their influences on me. Basically, Gloria and I

got into a fight. Our colleges of choice were separated by half a

country. I was staying in state, going to a school of writing. She was

going to the east coast to some Ivy League School. I’m not jealous; in

fact, I am very happy that she is going places, educationally of course.

I didn’t, however, like the thought of us being separated by seven

states. She came to me last week and asked me what was going to

happen with out relationship once we graduated high school. I

hesitated…apparently. That was enough to make her think I didn’t care

or something. We spent the rest of the week either fighting or avoiding

each other. Yesterday she sent me a text saying that she was going to

Prom, if I was ready to apologies I could meet her there, if not we were

over, a clean cut before it got any messier then it needed to be.

Oh, and I forgot to mention something; tonight is prom night. The

dance started about two hour ago, and I am at home in jeans and a t-

shirt I got at Target. I like the shirt; it was brown and had a bald eagle

on it. The eagle’s out spread wings form a piano and its tail had amp

chords attached to the feathers. Anyway, Prom isn’t gonna happen. I

didn’t believe in love any more. I became rather cynical and hateful

towards the very notion this past week.

I put my pen back on the paper, but before I could continue, my

phone went off. “Derek” flashed on the ¾ by ¾ inch screen. I

answered.

“Hey, Derek! What’s up?”

10

“What’s up?” Where the hell are you? Why the hell is Gloria in

the corner crying? What the crap man!”

“It’s her fault Derek; she started all of this; she needs to

apologies, not me.” I could here bickering on the other end.

“Give me the phone,” a girl’s voice said.

“No, I got this,” Derek responded.

 “Like hell you do!”

“OW OW OW let go of my ear! Fine, take it!” Derek apparently

lost the fight.” Mindy, Derek’s girlfriend grabbed the phone from him.

“Christian! What is wrong with you? Don’t you see that Gloria

loves you? Why else would she be so hurt by you when she wanted to

stay together.” These words hit me hard. In the nine months we have

been dating neither one of us never said those three words.

“Get over here right now!” I paused to think about what she had

said. “If you hesitate again you will lose her forever.”

“I’m on my way!”

“Thank G..” I shut my phone and bolted out the door. Not

bothering to put on a nice shirt tie. My parents were out at dinner, they

had dropped my car off at the shop to fix an engine problem. I checked

my watch, 11:25 p.m. The dance ended at twelve. I had thirty-five

minutes to run three and a half miles to school.

“Goddamn it.” I muttered as I ran out the door, leaving it to

swing shut behind me. It had started to rain when I left. By the time I

arrived it was pouring. My clothes were soaking wet and my hair was

matted down to my head.

11

I got to the school at eleven fifty-seven. I ran into the auditorium

just as the DJ said, “Our last song for the night is a classic slow song for
you seniors.” The song that started to play was “Under Pressure,” but

it was performed by My Chemical Romance and the Used and not

David Bowe and Queen. I scanned the room. The place was packed. I

couldn’t find

Gloria anywhere. I ran towards the horde of dancing people, pushing

my way through, trying to find her, I had to find her. I started to yell

her name as I shoved past person after person. The song hit the end of

the second verse and the room went still. The song slowed down and

the room went dark. An aisle had formed through the mosh pit. Light

from the moon, that had seeped through the windows, fell on this isle

and lit it up with a light glow. I looked down it, and there she was.

“Gloria! I yelled. The song picked up, the two halves of the mosh

pit that had separated to form the isle collided. She was no where to

be seen. Gloria looked up and saw a glimpse of Christian before he was

swallowed by the sea of people.

“Can we give love one more chance, why can’t we give love that

one more chance. Why can’t we give love, give love, give love, give

love, give love…” Christian and Gloria started to shove their way

through the people, trying to get to find each other.

“Cause Love’s such an old fashioned word and love dares you to

care for the people on the edge of the night.”

“Gloria! Christian yelled, the crowd became harder to push

through as he drew closer and closer to Gloria.

 “Christian, where are you?” Gloria called, shoving past a pair of

freshman.

12

“And love dares you to change your ways of caring about

ourselves. This is our last dance.”

Christian and Gloria were just ten feet away now, both trying

with all their might to get to the other.

“This is our last dance.”

Just five feet away, there was no one else between them now.

“This is our selves, under pressure.”

Gloria jumped into Christians arms and they kissed…a deep

passionate kiss. It was then that Christian knew he had nothing to fear.

A shiver ran through the both of them. It had nothing to do with

Christian’s rain soaked clothes. It was then that they realized, a shiver

is not done when cold. It was something felt, when in love.

EL FIN!