The Great Gatsby - Creative Writing: Party Scene

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I peered into the dark ocean. Small waves were lapping at the sides of the cruise, as if inviting me to play together in the water. But I reluctantly resumed my search for Elizabeth and walked in to yet another impressive room. Awkwardly walking around as if I was an intruder to the party, I tried to blend in. I crept along the wooden walls and avoided talking to people. Once feeling safe in the corner, I skimmed each person in the room while fiddling with my clutch. Miraculously, I spotted Elizabeth talking to a waiter and hurried over before she went off again. I tapped her shoulders and cleared my throat softly as if I was one of the obnoxious rich girls. Elizabeth whipped around and shrieked when she saw me. “Where have you BEEEEN? I have been looking for you EVERYWHERE!” She ushered me into the dining room and pushed me down into a chair at a table smack in the middle. The man with the gorgeous dark gray eyes was sitting right across from me and staring. Startled, I abruptly stood up, but as I was turning around, my right arm jerked back. Looking down, I found out that one of the glass beads on my clutch somehow hooked onto the lacy tablecloth! I tugged sharply on my clutch but it didn’t move an inch. Sighing, I plonked myself back on the chair and tried to pry off my clutch without anyone noticing. I cringed internally at the thought of Mr. Smoldering-Dark-Gray-Eyes watching me. I also noticed people shooting glances at me as if to ask why I stood up and sat back down. Frustrated to the max, I was determined to untangle my clutch. Slightly pulling out my chair, I planted both of my feet on the ground, then yanked as hard as I could. Time slowed and I could see every minute detail as chaos erupted. The wine glasses toppled over. The magnificent array of spoons, forks and knives flew into the air and clattered on the floor. The hot French onion soup was spilled everywhere. Chairs tumbled, people yelled, and there was me – the silent perpetrator, lying on the floor, covered entirely with the now splotchy brown tablecloth. In that moment, I considered accepting the ocean’s invitation by jumping off into the pitch black sea and forget about everything that happened tonight.