The Forgotten One

Chapter 10 - Party Panic

^--- Sexy Chick - David Guetta feat. Akon ---^

The loud, thudding music from Aston's house assails my ears as I walk up the front porch. Sighing, I straighten out my leather jacket and grey button-up, halting outside the door. Should I knock? I contemplate the action before inviting myself in, only after a swarm of kids from my year stampede past me without an invitation.

The beat of the song becomes significantly stronger as I step inside, and my stomach vibrates with each hit of dance. Couples are squashed against the hallway walls, making out as if their lives depend on it and I inch past all of them, trying to avoid their gyrating bodies.

One pair stumbles backwards and knocks into me, sending me ricocheting into someone else who spills a cup of something alcoholic, which I barely avoid in time.

Ugh.

I weave in and out of the hallway, trying to ignore the wave of claustrophobia as the people squish even closer together. When I can finally breathe, I discover that I have fumbled into the living room, where there aren't as many couples and people aren't too wasted.

Key word: too.

A group of people stand in a corner, passing each other tiny bags of white powder as their gazes dart around everywhere at once. Totally not shifty at all. Another cluster of kids are standing around two people, once of them taking body shots off the other as the others clap and roar.

I stand there awkwardly as I try to think of what I should do. Observing other people, I see nearly everybody has a red plastic cup stationed in their hands, so I turn to the closest person next to me.

"Hey, where do I get a drink?"

The guy spins around to face me, almost tripping over and losing his balance. He lets out a thundering laugh for seemingly no particular reason. Wow, as if I needed any more of a migraine. Thanks buddy.

"Just follow! The trail! Of cups!" He yells in different intervals, screaming the last part as his eyes dart around wildly.

I stare at him blandly, blinking rapidly in annoyance.

"Thanks." I say as I shove past him, the cup falling out of his hand as I do. He stares at his empty hand for a second, before he throws his arms up in the air with some form of victory as he shouts out a battle cry. All of the others around him cheer and repeat the action.

Following the trail of cups I try to find the kitchen, which I eventually do after squeezing through a wall of drunk 15 year olds. I shake my head sadly at them as I walk past. What are they doing with their lives? Eventually I turn my gaze away from them, focusing on the table in front of me. I see a group of people around my age selecting various types of vodka and beer to pour into cups.

I grab a cup of my own from the table and sniff around the variety of drinks available. I know. How sad is that? I'm at a party with drunk people and I'm getting picky about the type of alcoholic beverage I'm going to consume.

A guy waiting behind me stares as if I'm trying to sniff drugs or something, shooting a 'what the hell is up with this guy' look to one of his friends, as well as glaring at me for not choosing a drink.

Whatever.

Not wanting to hold up the impatient tosser, I tip in a small amount of a green liquid and wonder what it tastes like. Only because it was the nicest smelling thing out of all the others. Taking a tentative sip, I realize – surprise, surprise– that the drink is lime-flavoured and burns going down my throat.

Yup, strong alcohol with a nice taste. Probably not the best idea, but, I don't really care at the moment. Satisfied with what I have, I lean against a bench and take small sips from my cup, now unsure of what to do next.