Life of the Party (2 page)

‘You’re dead funny, you. You’re a good laugh.’

Wished I could say the same about Kieran. He was Ricky Browning’s older brother, and he was sitting way too close to me on the picnic table, resting his feet on the bench. The sun had sunk beyond the tops of the trees, the picnic area was in
shadow and it was definitely getting cooler. I hoped Kieran wasn’t going to offer to warm me up.

Supposedly, drink makes boys look better. For me it was working the other way round. An hour ago I’d thought Kieran was kind of cute. Now he was trying to snuggle up, I could see his lips were flabby, his eyes leery, and he had a zit on the side of his nose. Most likely so did I, and probably Rob Yeadon did too, but there was something dead off-putting about Kieran’s.

I wished Rob Yeadon wouldn’t keep barging into my thoughts. I took a swig of cider to fend him off.

I’d be fending off Kieran in a minute. I just knew he’d try and kiss me soon and then I’d be sick. I felt queasy enough already, like last night was catching up with me again. So I kept making cutting
remarks to try and put him off, but he just kept chortling.

‘You’re a scream, Chloe!’

No, I just felt like screaming.

I craned my head round to try and talk to Ricky, who was nearest. I quite liked Ricky, who was in our class and was better-looking than his brother and less of a pain in the neck, but he was hardly worth talking to right now, since he had his tongue halfway down Jenna’s throat. Didn’t exactly make Jenna scintillating company either.

Steph wasn’t helping. Ricky’s mate Calum was chatting her up, and she wasn’t paying attention to me, and I was getting more annoyed by the second. I took another swig from the plastic cider bottle. That felt a bit better.

Thoughtfully I studied the bottle. For goodness’ sake. That couldn’t have been
me. Could it? I couldn’t have knocked that back all by myself …

Trouble was, I was bored. Bored, and there was nothing to do but keep taking mouthfuls of cider. I was fed up with the lot of them, and the worst of it was I couldn’t just go home.

At least it was a beautiful evening. The sky was bright blue, the tips of the pine trees still gilded with light. The rickety picnic table was way out of town in the armpit of nowhere – well, beside the forest walk car park, four miles out of town – and we’d come here because we’d had enough of the municipal park. Too many kids running around screaming their heads off.

There wasn’t any peace, and some jerk in a blue anorak moaned about us sitting on the swings, and even though Ricky swore at him in technicolour, he wouldn’t leave us
alone. In the end it had been easier to take our carry-out somewhere else. Kieran had a car, so we all squeezed in, shrieking and giggling, and drove out here to the forest.

Which had been fine when we were still having fun. But I didn’t feel too good, and now I just wanted to go home. I wished Steph would snog Calum and get it over with.

The more I thought about it the angrier I got. She should have guessed I was feeling rough. She knew I’d been sick last night. And again this morning, in the toilets at break time.

I was the party girl around here. I couldn’t be the one to say it was time to go. I needed Steph to back me up. I needed Steph, full stop, but she was all wrapped up in some boy.

I took another swig.

‘Hey, kiddo!’

I must have been in a daze, because Steph was suddenly in front of me, grinning, Calum’s arm around her waist. Kieran’s arm was around mine, for that matter, and his hand was sneaking higher. Shuddering, I slapped it away, and yanked his arm off me.

‘Oy, what’s your problem?’ Kieran muttered a curse and jumped down off the table to rummage in the off-licence bag.

‘Yeah, what’s wrong?’ Steph frowned – perhaps because I was scowling at her – and I saw her glance quickly at my two-litre bottle. She grinned again.

‘Is that your
second
?’

I stared at it, and at her.

‘No. Anyway, there’s nothing else to do around here.’

I kicked the first, empty bottle with my
heel so it rolled down under the wooden table.

‘You were the one who wanted to come,’ she pointed out.

‘Yeah, well, that was before everybody decided to ignore me.’

‘Who’s ignoring you?’ she snapped. ‘I’m just talking to Calum.’

I gave her a scathing look, jumped down off the table and marched towards the woods.

Steph followed me. I could tell she was about to lose her temper. Well, good. About time she realised there was someone else in the world besides Calum.

‘I thought you were getting on fine with Kieran. You were practically sitting on his lap in the car. You weren’t bothered then.’

‘Yeah,’ I blustered, ‘’cause there were six people in the car. Where else was I going to
sit? He’s been pawing me for ages and I can’t stand him. I want to go home.’

Steph grabbed my arm to slow me down.

‘Look, what’s wrong? We’re all having a good time. I
thought
we were having a good time. Come on, it’s a laugh.’

‘Not much of a laugh for me. Just because you can’t take your hands off Calum.’

She stopped abruptly and yanked on my arm, so that I had to stop too. It hurt.

‘What are we, joined at the hip? Can’t I talk to anyone else? I really like Calum, you know that.’

‘Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your friend and you’re ignoring me.’

‘No I’m
not
.’ She glowered at me. ‘Don’t be so selfish. Are you really going to break up the party just because you’re in a strop?’

Shaking her off I stepped back, too angry
to cry. The trouble was, I knew I was being unreasonable. She was talking to me again, wasn’t she?

I just wasn’t that keen on what she was saying.

The trees around me wouldn’t stay still; they kept shifting ever so slightly, like my eyeballs were sliding around in my head, and the effect made me dizzy. I gripped a tree trunk to stop me grabbing Steph. After all, I didn’t need her.

‘There’s no party to break up. This is crap.’

She took a long, deep breath.

‘Listen, let’s not get mad at each other.’

‘No, don’t get mad, ’cause I’m not going to spoil anybody’s fun. Right?’

I had a nasty feeling I was starting to slur my words. I really didn’t think it was me who had started the second bottle, but I’d
certainly drunk out of it. And was it really the second or the third? How had that happened?

At least I’d stopped feeling queasy. A hair of the dog, they called it. Just a tiny bit more alcohol to balance your system. Feeling a little tipsy beat feeling as rotten as I’d felt this morning. When Rob Yeadon called me a cheap drunk …

Tears stung my eyes.

‘I’m going,’ I said.

‘Wait.’ Steph almost grabbed me again, but restrained herself. ‘I’ll go and get –’

‘No!’ I yelled. ‘I’m not getting back in that idiot’s car. I’ll walk!’

Kieran reddened with rage, pointing a bottle at me.

‘Dead right! No way is she getting back in my car! The little cow can walk!’

Whoops. I hadn’t meant him to hear.
Looked like I’d burned my bridges, but so what?

‘I wasn’t going to get Kieran or anybody else,’ said Steph narkily. ‘I was going to get my bag. I’ll come with you.’

‘Don’t bother.’ I really did feel guilty now, but I snapped at her anyway. I felt guilty and miserable, and if I didn’t go now I was going to burst into self-pitying tears in front of them all. ‘I don’t need company.’

‘Yeah you do. Look, forget that stupid jerk Yeadon. He’s not worth it.’

Yeah, but all I could think was
I used to fancy you, Chloe, before you were a cheap drunk
…

‘You can do better than him. Come on, lighten up.’ Steph gave me a conciliatory grin.

‘Quit patronising me,’ I hissed. ‘I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘You can’t walk all that way on your own. I’m coming with you.’

‘You are not. Stay with your pal Calum.’

‘Never mind Calum. There’s no way you can walk.’ She sounded genuinely anxious. ‘It’s too far and it’ll be dark soon. I’ll come with you.’

‘See? You’re doing it again. I am
fine
. I don’t need you, right?’

I was really losing my temper now. After all, she was as good as calling me a useless drunk. Funny coming from her, when she could tank it back with the best of them. Who was she to pass judgement on Rob Yeadon, anyway? Maybe she was jealous. Maybe she even fancied him herself.

You know, even at that moment I knew I was being irrational. Trouble was, I didn’t care. I was speaking my mind. It was a mind of my own, and I was proud of it.

‘I can look after myself!’ I yelled, turning on my heel.

‘Chloe, what do you think you –’

Hadn’t I made myself clear enough, or what?

‘Don’t follow me!’ I screamed. ‘I’m fed up with you, okay?
I don’t need you
, and
I don’t want your company
. Is that getting through yet?’

‘Oh yes,’ she called bitterly after me, ‘that’s got through. Get over yourself, Chloe!’

I was already blinking back tears as I stormed off towards the main road, but she went and made it a lot worse. I heard her footsteps running after me, then she stopped and called, a bit more gently, ‘Be careful, kiddo. Okay? See you tomorrow.’

Kiddo.
Kiddo
. That just about summed her up. Treating me like her baby sister instead of her best friend. Furiously I rubbed tears off my face. I was doing my best to stay angry, but it really was a long way home. I was walking off the edge of the alcohol, and the late evening air hurt my brain, and I was starting to realise how badly I’d overreacted.

However hard I tried to remember why I’d got so angry, I just couldn’t. Yet it had seemed really important at the time and it had been so clear. Steph used me and patronised me. Didn’t she? Yes. No. Yes. I tried not to think. I tried to use all my energy staying furious.

Trouble was, I was using up so much of it sobbing and snivelling.

It was getting dark, and it was a lot colder now. I wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a
thin camisole top and a useless little fashion-scarf. My feet hurt along with the rest of me. Cars swept past, and I told myself I was only imagining that some of the drivers slowed and stared as they went by. When I limped to the outskirts of town I just about fainted with relief, till I remembered I still had a couple of miles to walk home.

At least by the time I got there I was too footsore and miserable to worry any more about my disastrous evening. Though it was after midnight, I knew Mum was awake – I could see the light under her door, hear the rustle of the magazine she was pretending to read – but I didn’t go in to say goodnight. I didn’t want any more explanations or apologies about her and my useless dad, I didn’t want her ‘
your-problems-are-all-our-fault
’ routine. I was my own person and I
could make my own mistakes without any help from her.

Like tonight.

I crawled into bed with my make-up still on, and fell asleep straight away. Three hours later I woke up with a throbbing head and a sore swollen throat from all that crying, but I took a couple of paracetamol and a pint of water, and told myself I’d make it up with Steph in the morning. I’d make it up
to
Steph. She was my best friend. I knew she’d forgive me and that almost made me feel worse.

I felt so awful – not just my head and my stomach, either – I was afraid I’d never get back to sleep. But I did.

Boy, did I ever get back to sleep. Even though it was summer and the sun rose ridiculously early, I knew as soon as I woke that I’d overslept. Groaning, I rolled onto my side and fumbled for my phone. I knocked a few things flying before I managed to grab it – the table was in chaos since last night, with an upturned water
glass and a collapsed pile of books – but eventually I managed to focus on the blurred time display.

I swore.

For a moment, I rolled on to my back, thinking:
That’s okay, it’s Saturday, then.

No, it wasn’t. I swore again and tumbled out of bed.

What was Mum thinking of? Was this her way of getting me into trouble at school, so the teachers would deal with me and she wouldn’t have to? Yeah, that would be like her.

I banged the wardrobe door, flung a chair out of my way, making an unholy racket. It wasn’t as if I’d be disturbing anyone: Mum would have got herself to work. Selfish cow. Tears stung my eyes. I was really in trouble now and it was her fault. All her fault.

Stumbling on something, I almost fell. My jeans, kicked off last night and left on the floor because I didn’t have the hand-eye coordination to fold them over the chair. With that, the whole debacle came back to me. The repulsive Kieran. The awful walk home: how had I managed that without getting mugged, raped or run over? What a Class A clown I was.

And Steph. Falling out with Steph. This morning I could see – at least a little, through my stinging headache – how much I’d been in the wrong.

That was it. Definitely. I was going to stop drinking.

I was going to stop drinking so much, anyway. On weekdays. And I’d make my first one a lot later. I had it under control, I did, but it made me act stupid, and I wasn’t stupid.

Very, very carefully I made my way downstairs, trying not to jar my brain and stomach with every step. This hangover was a whopper. I’d have a laugh with Steph about it. Yes, that was a good idea. She’d think it was funny and say I deserved it, and I’d agree, and exaggerate my agony a bit, and be all contrite. We’d be fine again in no time. Carefully, carefully down the stairs. I felt like Winnie-the-Pooh, like my head was bumping off every step.

Another joke to tell Steph. I laughed silently, though even that made me feel queasy.

I got the shock of my life – up to that moment, at least – when I shoved open the kitchen door. Mum hadn’t gone to work. She was sitting at the table, still in her dressing gown, hands clasped tightly round a mug of tea. Her head jerked up.

As she goggled at me, horror-stricken, I realised she hadn’t heard me coming. Otherwise she might have done something about the tears streaking her face, and her swollen red eyes.

I didn’t know where to start. ‘What’s the idea, Mum?’ Aggression seemed the safest policy. I hoped this wasn’t going to be the lecture she’d been trying to give me for months. I wasn’t in the mood right now. ‘Why didn’t you wake me up? Mum! I’m late!’

She opened her mouth, but all she could do was bite her lip. Tears trickled out of her eyes again. I was mortified.

‘Chloe, it’s okay.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘I’ve called the school. It’s fine.’

‘Mum.’ I glowered at her. ‘Why did you call them?’ It struck me. ‘Is it Dad again?’

‘No, it’s – no. No, Chloe, it’s not Dad.
Ow!
’ The mug must have burned her. She dropped it like a hot coal and put her scalded hands over her mouth. It broke in clean pieces, flooding the kitchen table with milky tea.

I stared at the spreading puddle. I stared at Mum.

Slowly she drew her hands down from her mouth. ‘Oh, Chloe,’ she said. ‘Oh, Chloe. Something’s happened.’

And that’s when she gave me the real shock of my life.