"Please leave all overcoats, canes, and top hats with the doorman. From that moment you'll be out of place and under dressed."
Like a waterfall, decorative, crystal beads hung in the doorframe; the colored lights in side reflecting off them and sending a spectrum of colors into the hallway. Music and the cheers of party-goers pulsed from the room. The skin behind Lydia's mask was drenched in sweat and she picked at her manicured nails nervously.
What if I get caught? she thought. But I have to do this. Suck it up, Lydia.
"Name?" asked a stiff doorman with wispy white hair.
"Rebecca Leon," she replied quietly. Luckily, Rebecca was home sick and Lydia could sneak in in her place. Thank God it was a masquerade party.
The man checked the name off of his clipboard and stuck out his hand for her coat. She took it off and gave it to him. He placed it on a hook to his right and reached over for a glass of champagne.
"Thank you," said Lydia, taking a sip of the sweet liquid.
"Enjoy the party."
"I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it. Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring."
Lydia stepped into the dim room, surveying all of the people attending the party. Most of them were typical divas with low cut dresses and boys draped around their shoulders. She was an outsider among them. She wasn't rich, or popular, or as pretty as some. But she wasn't planning on staying that way for long.
Tonight, Lydia would show everyone up and rise above the other mildly inspiring girls who blended in among the crowd, just like her. She would be the top tonight.
"When you're in black slacks with accentuating off-white pin stripes, everything goes according to plan."
She looked towards the bar area and noticed a tall man perched upon a stool dressed off-white pin striped pants. Even behind the plaster mask, she could tell who it was. Her heart beat irregularly fast and she became even more nervous. Although, she still kept her cool.
Lydia took a step forward.
"I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it because you say so under your breath your reading lips."
A girl stepped in front of her. "Lydia? What are you doing here?"
Lydia looked up at Elise Markus who towered over her in her three inch heels. She'd always been tall anyway; she didn't exactly need them. Elise was in a sparkling red cocktail dress and her hair was straight and down to her shoulders.
"Partying, what else?" Lydia said with confidence.
"Well, you weren't invited and I have the right to call security."
"Go ahead, be my guest."
Elise glared down at Lydia from under her jewel-encrusted mask and then rolled her eyes. Lydia knew Elise wouldn't tell anyone if she told her she could. She was just stubborn like that.
"Whatever, just don't get in my way," she snarled and turned sharply on her heel. On her way, Lydia heard her murmur "I knew I should I have bought that dress. It would have looked so much better on me rather than her, that bitch. When did she get all confident?"
Lydia smoothed out her dress and a wide smile appeared on her lips. The deep, black silk shined in the flashing lights. She really did stand out if Elise noticed it.
"Next is a trip to the ladies room in vain. I bet you just can't keep up with those fashionistas. Tonight you are who you are; a whispering campaign. I bet to them your name is cheap. I bet to them you look like shhh……"
She made her way to the dance floor, bobbing to the contagious beat. She handed off the champagne to some stranger and decided to forget about the guy at the bar for now. She'd enjoy the party for a little while.
"Lydia!" shouted a voice.
Lydia whirled around to find herself face to face with a friend of Elise's, Natasha Wellings. Natasha was basically Elise's clone; tall, blond, and airheaded.
"Hey, I heard you made your dress from things found in the dumpster and that you snuck into this party to find a guy because he can't see your face so there's actually a chance he'll say yes. Is that true?"
"No! Who told you that?" she roared.
"Oh, it's just what's going around the party." Then she disappeared into the crowd of dancers.
Looking around, Lydia noticed for the first time the devilish smiles, pointing fingers, and snickers behind hands. Her face flushed and became hot behind her mask. She bolted for the bathroom, shoving people out of her way. She hated Elise. How dare she spread such lies about her just because her dress was better.
The ladies room was empty and quiet. The only sounds were the sobs that raked at her chest.
"Talk to the mirror, choke back tears, and keep telling yourself that 'I'm a diva!'"
She went the sink, ripped off her mask, and placed both hands on either side of the porcelain, looking at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged from rubbing her eyes and her black hair fell out of its bun, landing in her eyes. Angrily, she brushed it away.
"This night was supposed to be perfect," she whispered, "but I guess I was mistaken."
She sighed and tried what her mother once told her to do whenever she felt unsure of herself- tell herself that she was better and make herself believe it.
"I'm a diva, better than Elise. I will shine tonight," she chanted.
After a few seconds, she felt dumb and stopped, falling onto the cold tile. She choked back tears and forced herself to get up and keep going. Who cared about them anyway?
She did.