nobody’s going to come’ to ‘wow who are all these people?’ in the space of about four jelly shots. It may be five but it’s my birthday so who’s counting. The parentals are bestowing their artistry on Estonia, my best friend’s
fouetting
until smoke comes off her
pointe
shoes, Abigail’s turned up with a bouquet of barbed comments, but nothing and nobody is going to spoil my night, especially not when there’s another tray of jelly shots to bring out of the fridge.
I see Christian standing on his own looking moody. That is simply not allowed.
‘Hey loner, having fun?’ I ask him.
‘Not really in a festive mood. You?’
‘Definitely. Massive improvement on dinner with the parents.’
We’re interrupted by someone very good-looking. ‘So I was told the birthday girl cut the cake without me.’ It’s Lucas. He drags me outside to join his friends.
I ask Christian to come along but he wants to stay on his own. He gives me a ‘concerned’ look, like I need looking out for.
Lucas is in the mood to party and he’s brought the drinks to prove it, if the cupful of neat vodka he gives me is anything to go by.
‘Ethan would burst a blood vessel if he knew you brought that in here,’ I say, but that’s all the more reason to have another drink.
While Lucas talks to some of his friends I look out at the harbour. The lights are really bright tonight and I am having a good time. I am.
There are two older girls to my left being snooty.
‘Do you know whose party this is?’ one says.
‘Some ballerina chick wanting a rent-a-crowd,’ the other replies.
I’m about to tell them it’s not some ballerina chick, it’s THE ballerina chick but I decide to let it go. They’re not worth it. I have another drink instead.
Time for cake I decide. I push my way to the kitchen and collect the pink mountain of sugar and fat. I need to take it back to Lucas. He wants to see me cut it. As I pick up the cake, the trip back to the terrace suddenly feels like an epic journey – out of the kitchen, past Sammy, who’s held in a bewitched trance by the evil Abigail creature. She fires jets of ice at me from her deadly eyes. I push through the scary forest of seriously unco dancers in the living room, and slide past the swamp of Christian who’s staring, trying to lure me into his bog of misery. ThenI have to pass between the terrifying posts of the rent-a-crowd cows who don’t know whose party it is before I finally reach the haven of Lucas’s knee.
Cake safely delivered.
‘I’ve come to cut the cake. I like cake.’
‘Lovely,’ says Lucas, ‘but you might want to clean up first.’
I look down and discover the cake wasn’t so safely delivered. Half of it is on my chest.
Oops.
I need to tidy myself so Lucas makes me put the cake aside, stands up and guides me up to my bedroom. It feels like years since I lived here but there’s one old friend I recognise as I collapse onto my bed.
‘Daisy the rabbit. I haven’t seen you in ages.’
Suddenly the bed feels snugly warm and the only thing in the world that isn’t spinning around.
‘Don’t pass out on me yet, birthday girl,’ says Lucas. ‘We have to get you out of these cakey things.’
He sits on the bed and tries kissing me.
‘No I’m shy!’ I say.
He doesn’t believe me and starts kissing me again. ‘Come on, you’ve got to work with me.’
My head’s spinning but I can tell he’s really going for it. ‘Can’t we just talk?’ I ask.
He laughs. ‘We’ve been talking for weeks. And we both know that is not why you brought me up to your bedroom.’
Everything’s a blur but I know I shouldn’t be here. ‘I should go back to the party. I’m not being a good hostess.’
‘Everyone’s fine. It’s your birthday. They want you to enjoy it.’
I try standing up but Lucas pulls me back onto the bed. For a moment I let him kiss me but then I feel his hands lifting up my dress. I may be drunk, but I know this isn’t right. I can
fouetting
until smoke comes off her
pointe
shoes, Abigail’s turned up with a bouquet of barbed comments, but nothing and nobody is going to spoil my night, especially not when there’s another tray of jelly shots to bring out of the fridge.
I see Christian standing on his own looking moody. That is simply not allowed.
‘Hey loner, having fun?’ I ask him.
‘Not really in a festive mood. You?’
‘Definitely. Massive improvement on dinner with the parents.’
We’re interrupted by someone very good-looking. ‘So I was told the birthday girl cut the cake without me.’ It’s Lucas. He drags me outside to join his friends.
I ask Christian to come along but he wants to stay on his own. He gives me a ‘concerned’ look, like I need looking out for.
Lucas is in the mood to party and he’s brought the drinks to prove it, if the cupful of neat vodka he gives me is anything to go by.
‘Ethan would burst a blood vessel if he knew you brought that in here,’ I say, but that’s all the more reason to have another drink.
While Lucas talks to some of his friends I look out at the harbour. The lights are really bright tonight and I am having a good time. I am.
There are two older girls to my left being snooty.
‘Do you know whose party this is?’ one says.
‘Some ballerina chick wanting a rent-a-crowd,’ the other replies.
I’m about to tell them it’s not some ballerina chick, it’s THE ballerina chick but I decide to let it go. They’re not worth it. I have another drink instead.
Time for cake I decide. I push my way to the kitchen and collect the pink mountain of sugar and fat. I need to take it back to Lucas. He wants to see me cut it. As I pick up the cake, the trip back to the terrace suddenly feels like an epic journey – out of the kitchen, past Sammy, who’s held in a bewitched trance by the evil Abigail creature. She fires jets of ice at me from her deadly eyes. I push through the scary forest of seriously unco dancers in the living room, and slide past the swamp of Christian who’s staring, trying to lure me into his bog of misery. ThenI have to pass between the terrifying posts of the rent-a-crowd cows who don’t know whose party it is before I finally reach the haven of Lucas’s knee.
Cake safely delivered.
‘I’ve come to cut the cake. I like cake.’
‘Lovely,’ says Lucas, ‘but you might want to clean up first.’
I look down and discover the cake wasn’t so safely delivered. Half of it is on my chest.
Oops.
I need to tidy myself so Lucas makes me put the cake aside, stands up and guides me up to my bedroom. It feels like years since I lived here but there’s one old friend I recognise as I collapse onto my bed.
‘Daisy the rabbit. I haven’t seen you in ages.’
Suddenly the bed feels snugly warm and the only thing in the world that isn’t spinning around.
‘Don’t pass out on me yet, birthday girl,’ says Lucas. ‘We have to get you out of these cakey things.’
He sits on the bed and tries kissing me.
‘No I’m shy!’ I say.
He doesn’t believe me and starts kissing me again. ‘Come on, you’ve got to work with me.’
My head’s spinning but I can tell he’s really going for it. ‘Can’t we just talk?’ I ask.
He laughs. ‘We’ve been talking for weeks. And we both know that is not why you brought me up to your bedroom.’
Everything’s a blur but I know I shouldn’t be here. ‘I should go back to the party. I’m not being a good hostess.’
‘Everyone’s fine. It’s your birthday. They want you to enjoy it.’
I try standing up but Lucas pulls me back onto the bed. For a moment I let him kiss me but then I feel his hands lifting up my dress. I may be drunk, but I know this isn’t right. I can
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