“No one will want me to come,” I whispered.
“Of course they will. And anyway, it’s at Esther’s, so no one else will have a say.”
Esther lives in a Georgian house with five floors in the heart of Clifton. I’m not sure what her parents do but she’s ludicrously wealthy, and her party after the Year Eleven prom was apparently legendary.
“You really want me there?”
“Sure,” she said, as if it was nothing.
“I mean, my parents and sister are away, so . . .”
“Great! You’re coming then!”
I started hesitating, trying to back out of it. This was Annabel after all. I still remembered Julian. “I might be too tired from the prom.”
“Poppy, calm down,” Annabel said. “Relax and enjoy yourself tonight. It’ll be great.”
Amazingly, despite my doubts, I did enjoy myself. The meal was nice, and Annabel and I talked for ages about our exams and what we wanted to do. I was off to Slade, she was staying put in Bristol. Our table managed to come second in the quiz that was played during dessert, and we each won a book voucher, which the others groaned at but I was pretty excited about. Afterwards, the dancing commenced and the Vegas-style gambling section started up, headed by Mrs. Hargreaves to make sure no one was cheating. I lost all my coins betting red on the roulette wheel, and Annabel soon lost hers after risking a fifteen in a game of twenty-one. The others had joined us by this point but there was such a crowd around us that it didn’t feel strange, hanging out with those four. Tanya seemed more awkward than any of them, and when she went out on the balcony to smoke I went and joined her.
One of the science teachers who everyone always said smelt of weed was out there too, but at a distance, off in his own world.
Other than that, the balcony was empty apart from the two of us, the DJ playing “Stronger” by Kelly Clarkson. Even from out here with the doors shut, we could hear the thumping music and the sounds of everyone screaming along to the words.
Tanya lit her cigarette, taking a long inhale, then leaned back against the balcony. “You don’t smoke.”
There was no point pretending with Tanya. Even after all these years, it was like she still knew me better than anyone. I remembered us making a daft pact when we were ten to never smoke or take drugs because we respected ourselves too much. We declared it out to the world (my garden) and sealed the deal by dipping our hands in a muddy puddle and shaking on it.
I wondered if she remembered. “You broke the pact,” I said softly.
To my surprise, she grinned. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“I just wanted to check you were alright,” I said. “That’s why I came out here. I wanted to ask how you were doing. What are your plans?”
She took another inhale, blowing the smoke out in rings. “I’m going to UWE. Not quite as impressive as Slade.”
The teachers had announced my Slade offer in the school newsletter, which meant everyone knew. It had been so embarrassing, feeling the eyes of everyone on me, judging me, but I also felt secretly proud too.
“You’re studying journalism, right?”
“That’s right,” she said, sounding astonished. “I didn’t expect you to know.”
“I think one of the teachers said,” I mumbled, realising I’d given it away that I still kept track of her, despite everything. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.” She took a final long drag, then put the cigarette out on the balcony’s stone, flicking it off the edge.
“What happened to the acting dream?” I couldn’t help asking it.
“Ah, that.” She shrugged. “I gave up on that a long time ago.”
“You shouldn’t,” I said. “I always thought you’d make it.”
“Ah, well,” she said, a small smile on her lips. “Remember when we used to dress up on the weekends and put on fashion shows for your parents?”
“I remember.” We always did different themes each week. My parents, with patience rivalling a saint’s, would sit on our old velvet sofa and clap and cheer as Tanya and I strutted across the room thinking we were Tyra Banks. “My favourite was when we dressed up as high-fashion clowns.”
Tanya burst out laughing, clapping her hands together. “Oh my God, I remember that. No, my favourite was when we decided that aliens would one hundred percent wear Uggs on their hands and gloves on their feet, and we had to hobble along when we tried to walk because we couldn’t squeeze our feet into your old woolly gloves properly.”
Then I was laughing too, and God, for a minute it was like no time had passed at all. It was me and Tanya again, close as we had ever been, and it was wonderful.
“Come on,” she said, shattering the bubble of our old friendship. “We had better go back in, they’ll be wondering where we got to.”
That use of “we.” I was finally included.
The rest of the night was spent dancing with everyone else, as if I had always been a part of them. When the lights eventually came on and Mrs. Hargreaves thanked us all for coming, I was a sweaty mess, but so was everyone. And then Esther said the magical words I had been waiting for, the confirmation I was truly in the in-crowd.
“Poppy, you’re coming to the afterparty, right?”
“Of course,” I said immediately.
On the way, I texted Mum and Dad, telling them I’d got home safely, even though that wasn’t technically true.
There were about forty of us from the sixth form ball, but even this seemed a huge number. Esther’s house wasn’t small, but the place became crowded in seconds. She led us down to the basement, which was a huge open room complete with sofas and tables. Someone put on some music and it was as if we’d never left the hotel. People began dancing again, but this time we were all supplied with alcohol to liven the mood further, having stopped at the shops along the way back and stocked up with dozens of bottles.
I’d never drunk alcohol before. I know, a seventeen-year-old girl in the twenty-first century never having had a single drink. But it’s not like I’d had the opportunity. This was my first party.
Aidan passed me a plastic cup filled only slightly. “Do a shot with me, Poppy. We haven’t seen you drunk yet!”
He was so hot, and standing so close to me I was terrified he could hear my heart beating.
“Sure,” I said, as if I did this all the time, even though I had no idea what was in there.
“On the count of three,” Aidan said. “One . . . two . . . three!”
Both of us drank the liquid straight down. I couldn’t help but gasp and choke slightly as the burning sensation hit the back of my throat, and Aidan laughed as he thumped me on the back.
“Maybe doing shots isn’t the best thing for your first party!” he said. “Here.”
He reached across and brushed his fingers across my lip. In that moment, I think time stood still. My stomach began swirling, and any second I was worried I’d faint.
But I knew I had to calm down. This was Annabel’s boyfriend. I took a step back, adding some distance between us, and he seemed to understand.
“You had some around your mouth,” he said. “Let me introduce you to some of my mates later. They’d love to get to know you.”
“Sure,” I whispered, barely able to get this single word out.
Was this what it was like for every other girl? A cute boy came up to you at a party and made a move? Or said he’d introduce you to his friends? Some of the other boys were nearly as good looking as Aidan. I wasn’t going to be picky.
A first kiss would have been nice. That was all that was on my mind, and my lips still tingled from where Aidan had touched them.
“Are you having fun?”
Annabel appeared behind me, as if from nowhere, holding a drink in her hand. She held it out to me. “A vodka lemonade. A bit easier than a straight shot.”
“Oh.” I immediately felt awkward. “Aidan just came up to me, I didn’t—”
“It’s cool,” she said. She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s friendly. It doesn’t bother me. He’s just trying to make sure you have a good time. Now take it.”
I hesitated.
“This isn’t your first time drinking alcohol, is it?” she said.
“No!” I said, but it was too late.
“Oh, bless you.” She raised her voice, letting everyone else hear. “Guys, this is Poppy’s first ever alcoholic drink, excluding that shot she just did! Can we have a round of applause?”
Blushing furiously, I took my first sip and had to train my face very carefully not to flinch at the shock of the taste. It was even worse than the shot somehow. Sharp and strong and awful, even a little bitter. Annabel muttered something to a few of the guys standing by her, and they all laughed. But the crowd cheered at me.
“Down it, down it!” they chanted.
“Oh, God,” I mumbled, but I did as they said, choking it back despite its making my eyes sting.
“Is it meant to taste like that?” I said to Tanya, who had been standing near me, taking part in neither the cheering nor the laughter.
She frowned. “Taste like what?”