David stared blankly into the mirror. How, unsettling, this all was. How was it that every time they met, he always got this sickly, jarring feeling in the pit of his stomache? He knew it would be the same tonight. She would turn up, all demure and not even looking particularly nice or pretty, although she was quite good-looking he supposed, but that would change nothing. He would still feel the same, still be unable to look her in the eye or say a complete sentence to her. What was it about that girl that made him feel so uneasy?
Why had his parents even decided to have this party? Thank goodness his mum had let him invite Marshall. With someone there, with a freind there, everything would be okay. He would probably not even have to speak to her that much. Just say hello, then get out, he thought. He pulled on his shirt slowly, thoughtfully. Then again, maybe Marshall had not been the best choice of freind. Marshall was, after all, a good person, but, well, he was boisterous and had a tendancy to go over the top, to cause trouble . . .
No. David shook his head. Marshall would be fine. Elvira would be fine. The whole party was going to be absolutely fine.