Asking for It by Louise O'Neill

legs dangling about a foot from the ground. She leans back against the apple-patterned wall tiles and yawns. ‘The heat is making me sleepy.’ Eli walks towards us. I smile at him but he doesn’t see me, I guess, as he stands between Maggie’s legs, nudging her knees apart so he can get closer.
    I hear Jamie scream from outside, Ali shushing her nervously.
    ‘Jesus,’ I say, ‘how is she drunk already?’
    ‘She was tipsy when we picked her up,’ Maggie says. ‘I think her parents had another fight, they—’
    ‘Yeah, well, we all have problems,’ I say. Jamie screams again, and my jaw clenches. ‘Seriously, the neighbours are going to complain if she doesn’t shut the fuck up.’
    ‘Do you think she’s OK?’ Conor asks. ‘Should I go out and check on her?’
    ‘She’s fine,’ I say. ‘She’s just looking for attention. Ignore her.’
    ‘You girls are such bitches to each other,’ Eli chuckles, and Maggie elbows him in the ribs.
    ‘Come on, Em, be nice,’ she says. ‘Jamie’s just nervous about tonight, with both Dylan and Julie being there.’
    ‘She shouldn’t have fucked him then,’ Eli says. ‘Shit, she was wasted that night though.’
    I look away, staring at my reflection in the night-black glass of the patio door.
    Ali grabs her iPhone from the marble counter and hands it to Eli, instructing him to take a photo of us.
    ‘Oh, wait, Fitzy and Conor, get in it too,’ she insists. She thinks it’ll look cooler if we have boys in the photos, to prove that she has male friends. She stands between them, a thrilled expression on her face. Immediately after it’s taken, Maggie jumps down off the counter and she and Ali crowd around the phone.
    ‘Aren’t you going to look at the photo too?’ Eli sounds amused.
    ‘No.’ I hold eye contact with him for a second longer than is strictly necessary. ‘I don’t need to.’ Eli shifts from one foot to the other, then looks away.
    ‘I look like shit in this picture.’
    ‘No, you don’t,’ Maggie says. ‘You look fab.’
    ‘Fat, more like.’
    ‘Ali . . .’ Maggie sighs. ‘Shut up. You don’t look fat.’
    Ali insists on taking another photo, then another, until they’re finally happy with the perfect one to upload to Facebook. Maggie starts swiping through Ali’s old photos, showing a few to Eli, going pink as he tells her how pretty she looks. She gives a sudden snort of laughter.
    ‘This is hilarious!’ she says. ‘Why didn’t you send these to me too, Em?’
    ‘Send what to you?’ I say. Ali lunges for the camera but it’s too late, I’m looking at a series of photos of me, taken with FatBooth, my face as bloated as Chloe Hegarty’s. I hand Ali back her phone. ‘I didn’t take these. Guess Ali had some free time on her hands.’
    ‘It was just a joke,’ she mumbles.
    The doorbell rings again.
    ‘Em.’ Ali follows me as I walk away. ‘Em, please. It was a joke.’
    ‘Hilarious.’
    ‘I’m sorry. Please don’t be cross with me. I’m sorry, OK? Are you fighting with me?’
    I don’t answer for a moment, a knife edge of satisfaction cutting through me when I see her forehead pinch with anxiety. I can almost taste her fear that she’s annoyed me, that she’s gone too far.
    ‘No,’ I say finally.
    ‘Are you sure? You still seem mad at me.’
    ‘Jesus, Ali.’ I shake her hand off me and gesture at her to go back into the kitchen. ‘I have to answer the door.’
    Bryan comes bounding down the stairs, two steps at a time. He’s freshly showered and barefoot, wearing a Beatles T-shirt and jeans.
    ‘Hey.’ He opens the door and reaches out to Jen, drawing her close to kiss her.
    ‘Ew,’ I say, and they break apart, smiling at each other.
    ‘Hi, Emma,’ Jen says, hugging me hello. She’s the same height as Bryan, and seems to be made up of points and sharp edges from her teeth to her elbows, but there’s something luminescent about her, her skin so pale it almost glows. ‘You looking forward to