Stolen

(2) -- The Party

"Are you sure about this?" I moaned again, trying to keep up with Lara as she walked, laughing. "If my dad finds out... Do you know what he'll do to me? He will kill me. He will skin me alive then boil me then-"

"Hey, hey, calm down. Take a chill pill," Lara smiled, turning around to look at me. "Your dad won't find out."

I pulled a face. "Do you know how many drugs there'll be? And alcohol and... Sex..." I swallowed, then lost my footing, nearly falling flat on my face in my ridiculously high heels.

Lara's boyfriend Darren laughed as I stumbled into his back, his voice deep through the night air. "Easy tiger." His arm tightened around my friends waist as he looked back, smiling at me.

"Sorry!" I murmured. "Sorry, sorry." I pulled my black coat closer around me. It wasn't cold, but the amount of skin I was showing in Lara's dress was making me uncomfortable. It was too short, the blue shimmery folds resting half way up my thigh. My neck was bare, the shoulder-less dress leaving my arms too naked to feel comfortable with. "La," I moaned, "You're not really making me wear this, are you?"

"Isla! You're wearing that dress, and there's nothing you can do to change it! Please, don't make me feel like your mother! I'm too young!" She laughed. I huffed, crossing my arms and sulking, following them down the road.

"Who's party is it anyway?" I asked as Lara and Darren cut through a gap in the traffic to cross the road.

"My friend's friend," Darren replied, not quenching my fears of the next evening. "I said I'd meet him on the night. It's more of a free for all party than a selected bunch of friends or whatever."

"Oh..." I smiled cautiously. My dad would kill me if he found out.

Lara turned and smiled as we walked onto another street, one house sticking out from the rest. In this one, most of the lights were on, and I could hear the music from here.

Oh God...

People were milling around on the steps up to the red brick house, spilling out off onto the pavement too. I felt butterflies hitting my stomach and I sped up, standing next to Lara, walking one foot on the pavement, the other on the road. There wasn't enough room to stay on the pavement, but I didn't want to walk behind them. I could feel the nerves fluttering in my stomach. This was the first 'off the hook' party I had ever been to, and I wasn't even supposed to be here. My dad thought I was going to the cinema with Lara, and that's it. Not going to a drug fuelled party with people I didn't know.

We climbed up the steps, the smoky air making me swallow. It was thick with all the smokers out here by the road. The long corridor was full of people with drinks in their hands. They were bobbing up and down to the music, some girls dancing with their arms in the air, but most were leaning against the walls of the room talking in small groups. Almost everyone I passed had some form of facial piercing - nose, lip, tongue, eyebrow. I swallowed, pulling my coat around me. Lara and Darren disappeared into a door on the left, so I followed, avoiding the eyes of a boy drinking in the doorway. I glanced up after I passed him, looking around the small kitchen.

Most of the flat surfaces of the room was covered in bottles or the cardbored outing of packs of beer. Chewing gun white cupboards lined the room. There was a small fridge, a washing machine and an oven tucked under the counters. Above a sink full of glasses was a window overlooking the dark back garden. There was a painted wooden table in the middle, and that was coated with unopened packets of beer.

"Hey man!" came a greeting from a teenager with a snake tattoo cirling his arm. "You must be Darren." He was obviously the one hosting the party. "You and your friends want a beer?" He smiled, chucking a can to Darren, then Lara, then me. I almost missed it as my arms were wrapped around myself and I couldn't react fast enough. "Careful sweetheart!" he laughed, drumming his fingers on the table. "Mark's not here yet so I can't show yah to him - sorry. Dunno when he's planning on making it. Bloody soon hopefully!" He whooped, turning away from us. I could tell he wasn't the soberest person here. "Mark's a real crackup." I wondered what sort of 'crackup' he was. A good laugh? Or was he referring to what he does in his spare time?