I'd Fall For You

Chapters 4-6

Chapter 4

It’s last period and I’ve only got 1 hour until the weekend. Only 1 hour. It’s not a good thing. Yes I sound crazy and yes I am a teenage girl. But I have been coaxed into going to a party. Tonight. And I don’t like parties. Still a teenage girl. But, it’s not the actual party I don’t like. It’s the drinking and stupid reckless things that come with it.
I’m 17. I live in West London. And as far as I’m aware, 17 year olds can’t drink in West London. But there are things they can do. Which parties and alcohol normally lead to. I miss piñatas.
Mr Brooks voice is cut off from droning on about quadratic equations by the bell, sparking a pandemonium. I just calmly pack my books, graciously thank Mr Brooks, and walk out the classroom.
Gracie, who had been sat next to me,  was already halfway down the corridor by the time I’ve emerged from the classroom. She’s obviously the one who nudged me, or shoved me, into this party. Quote Unquote, “#New experiences #Putting ourselves out there!!!”
I’m in my hyggekrog and can’t focus on my bujo. It’s just not flowing. But my mind is. With all the horrors tonight might have in stock for me. And I’m putting my foot down on this one. No karaoke. No matter what. I heave myself out of my little cave and yank open my closet. My eyes filter through all the possibilities for an outfit.
I’ve already rejected half of it due to my total lack of party attire. But I settle on a cute mini dress, with a curved gap at the hip and the colour of the ocean in my painting of when we went to Devon to visit my cousins Bryce, Dylan, Lucy and their two dogs Biscuit and Dynamite. We were toasting marshmallows on this big bonfire and watching the stars above the sea like fairy lights.  I slip on my black converse and some chic gold hooped earrings. At least as chic as I get.
It’s into hair and makeup now. Although make up just means finding some lip gloss and maybe a bit of eyeliner. I grab my curlers and go through each clump of my hair. Let’s be fancy and use the word auricomous to describe it. It basically just means blonde. But I like how I can loop a bit of hair around my ear and I feel pretty tonight. Today the mirror is my friend, not Mama telling me to take a shower because it’s so greasy.
Gracie tugs my arm when I get there, clearly high on something. It’s probably juice but I’m not going to kill her vibe. I find myself reluctantly being weaved through a mass of people drinking from bottles you wouldn’t catch me dead with. There’s a tangy aroma hovering here, like slightly gone off beer. It’s warm and dense and doesn’t feel too good.
I’m left to find my own way when Gracie is pulled aside by some equally high girls from her cookery class, but I think they’re high on something other than Tango.
That makes me realise how much I need to pee. I feel stupid. If I’ve learnt anything from my few social experiences, it’s that you will never enjoy your experience in a toilet at a party. And sure enough, I find a long queue of surreptitious people before me. “Great, just great.” I mutter beneath my breath. But a couple in front of me catch that and give me a stink-eye, and go back to making out. I sigh, not bothering to explain their mistake.
It’s another 20 minutes until I am at the top of the queue. And I really need to pee now. I go in finally, prepared for the worst. The stench is brutal and I gag but I’m quick and make my way out as fast as I can whilst still doing the recommended hand washing routine.
This isn’t working out. I’m just going to head to a quiet room, put in my headphones and do some writing.
I work my way down the corridor, and encounter some girl hurling into I don’t even want to know what in one room, a game of beer pong in the second room, and a circle of people doing some séance with an Ouija board in the next one. How hard is it for a girl to get a room? NOT LIKE THAT. Definitely not like that. I’m this close to giving up. But I try the last room at the end of the corridor. Fingers crossed it’s empty.
I pace down the remaining section of the hallway, and it’s like there’s an ominous voice in my head telling me I won’t like what I’m going to find. I really hope it’s wrong.
Bringing myself to actually face the door, I inhale. Why’s this so scary. Eh. I just swing open the door. Well, not swing but gently twist the knob and nudge it ajar. And boy do I see some horrors afore me.