I Want To Dream Now

Chapter 8 - The Party

Charlene stumbles outside into the well-lit garden. All the lights are switched on, making it a glorious adventure. If the night-sky weren't so dark, then tonight wouldn't be half as mystical.

She walks down the patio, bare-foot, to where her father had laid out a few white, plastic tables and chairs. The tables are dazzled with cheap paper cups and jugs of water with some juicy, orange squash beside.

Despite the warm atmosphere, however, Charlene can feel the chill.

It penetrates here for a moment.

Then she spots her parents, right behind the oak tree caught in a surprising embrace.

Charlene drops down behind a blackberry bush, trying to hide her shock.

You owe her nothing, she tells herself once again.

"Charlene? Wow, is that really you?"

Charlene pauses for a moment. She spins around, and finds a very tall, muscular boy hovering over her. His hair is ash blonde, spiked obviously up with gel.

"Hi," she responds warily, "Do I know you?"

He chuckles. "It's me. Olive, from St John's."

"Oh," she spurts out, and starts giggling. "I remember you now. You were to boy who got in a fight with Ms Kennedy when were like, ten?"

He blushes then. "Wow, I never expected that to be the only memory you had of me."

Charlene covers her mouth with her hand with an apologetic set of eyes. "Sorry," she laughs. "But that was funny."

"Assaulting a teacher? Not sure my parents would agree with you. I was grounded for 6 months. I nearly ended up in juvy."

Charlene nods then, rolling her eyes. "Okay then, maybe not that funny."

Olive smiles back. He glances around him, as if he were about to steal something.

"Is that you Pop over there?"

Charlene refuses to look, but she knows he's correct. "Mmm."

"Wow, is he back with your mother? They're like hot monkeys over there, really at it--"

"Olive," she barks, "Sorry, but I'd rather not talk about it."

He nods, but what does a nod even mean to him.

"When my folks split, I was a mess."

"What age were you?"

"Thirteen. But then I realized - heck, its not me. Let them do what they want. Their problems--not mine."

Charlene says nothing.

He seems to notice her discomfort. "Uh, do you want to get a drink?"

Charlene draws a deep breath, then lets loose a long sigh.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "I'm just not really in the mood, Olive."

"Then why are you even out here?"

Charlene laughs. "It is my house. I'm not letting my mother dictate me."

"Oh, I thought you were just being polite."

"Maybe a little of that too," she says chuckling.

Olive smiles again.

"Can't I tempt you in one drink?"

"What, orange squash?"

Olive bursts out in laughter. He zips open his jacket pocket then, and pulls out a glass bottle. "Strawberry and Lime," he tells her with a mischievous grin, and then whispers into her ear, "with vodka."