WingWomen

Hope(less/ful)ness

TW:
- Underage Drinking
- Swearing
- Homophobia

( Note this chapter will most likely have edits done to it within the next 48 Hours to fix any grammar or errors. With that out the way! Enjoy. )

Well it's official.

This is the worst night of my life.

At a football club of all places.

In fairness, there was clearly some effort put in to try and spruce up the place. There was thin, shiny linen thrown over the tables, with purple napkins chucked over it with some confetti in silver and gold. Plastic bows tied to each chair clearly done in a rushed manner. All neatly tied together with the banner that stood lopsidedly over the entrance reading: "WELCOME TO YEAR 11'S PROM!".

The main lights were turned off, save for the colourful monstrosity of DJ lights dancing across the floor. Music blaring, I'm pretty sure the song playing was Britney Spear's "Lucky".

Which felt painfully ironic.

Lucky wasn't how you'd describe me right now, sat at a lonely table. Eyeliner running down my face, blurring my vision as I tapped frantically at the slightly cracked screen of my phone. My blue nail polish chipped from where I had been nervously biting it, the blue sleeves of my dress a shade darker with some black marks from the eyeliner and tears that I had tried to wipe away stubbornly.

I stare down at my phone, the last text I sent to my older brother, Harvey, looking back at me. It read:

"plwase come get me niw"

My phone buzzed. Harvey's response read:

"OMW Everything alr?"

"just come get me"

"Be there in ten"

Slamming my phone down on the table I'd cover my damp face with my hands. Looking out at the dance floor of my peers.

People I grew up with since Year Seven, some even longer.

All of them swaying, shaking or doing something that could be interpreted as dancing to a beat. Smiles and laughter spread through their circle of joy. So free, so sure.

Maybe that's because they knew something I didn't.

Or maybe it's the alcohol that Kieran Wilson had been secretly chaperoning around the place.

Yeah it's probably that.

I'm surprised the teachers didn't notice everyone's cups of coke or lemonade suddenly looking a bit fuller, or smelling differently.

Or maybe they did notice and were simply unwilling to care.

That's Marington for you.

A group of adolescents mixed with alcohol that we don't know to handle leads to a series of things that could happen.

One. Giggly Year elevens who end up being loud mouthed and chaotic, jumping on benches and tables. Dancing wilder than they ever have before.

Two. The most likely occurrence. Someone throws up. Unable to handle it and having to get it out somehow, probably with someone else watching them churn into the public bathroom sink. God have mercy on the cleaners.

Three.

They get truthful.

And with the truth is hurt.

Anger.

I got to experience this anger first hand.

It's not like I, Avery Hudson, hadn't experienced the ridicule and abuse from my peers before. I had. I've gladly dealt with my fair share of insults and social exclusion. PE was always a nightmare, the amount of times someone would whisper about how I was watching them or that they didn't want a 'Lesbo' in the locke rooms was immense. They were very keen to label me as some creepy lesbian who'd be a weird, freakish monster that would turn you into one of them.