Young and Drunk

Where It All Began

While my memory is rather hazy in regards to this matter, I believe the first time I experimented with alcohol was at the age of twelve. While this may shock some, it is not that uncommon where I come from. Sadly, alcohol is very easily accessible at any age and, while drinking in your early teens is frowned upon by most, it never comes as a surprise to anyone.

I remember it being a warm summer's day. The sun was high up in the sky, the breeze was light and warm and the concrete-paved playgrounds were filled with children of all ages. Some kids were playing tag, some were scribbling on the sidewalks, but I was sitting at home, in front of the big mirror in the corridor of our flat, fixing up my hair to go and hang out with a couple of my ex-classmates for one last time before switching schools. While they weren't really my friends, they were as close as I could come to having them and, and, despite all the bullying, teasing and gossiping they took part in behind my back, I still chose to surround myself with them.
I took a deep breath as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, frowning at the sight I was seeing. Shaking the self-deprecating thoughts away, I grabbed my backpack and left. With earbuds in my ears, hoping to block out the undermining words of the neighbourhood bullies, I made my way to my mate Ginny's flat. It wasn't a long walk, our buildings were right next to one another, so it took no more than a minute to get there. I texted Ginny to see whether it was okay for me to come by and waited for a response at the entrance to her building. Before any confusion settles in, Ginny and I were not really allowed to be mates. Her mum had this inexplicable hatred towards me simply because I wasn't like the other kids in our class. She called me a whore for wearing makeup, kept telling Ginny I was a Satan-worshipper because of my taste in music and the way I dressed, and simply didn't allow us to hang out with one another. Sure, she didn't say a word to me if I was there, but every time Ginny would mention me, the woman would spit out all of her hatred towards me, while verbally abusing Ginny as she did so. Definitely not a great mum. As soon as I got a text that her mum wasn't there, I climbed up to the second story and rung the doorbell to Ginny's flat. She opened the door with a smile and welcomed me in. "Hey! Ready to go?" I inquired, giving her a friendly hug, "It's pretty warm outside, so grab some water."
"Yeah, I just need to grab my keys and we can go," she replied gingerly, obviously excited to finally get out of the house, "we'll go to Kat's. She texted me earlier asking if mum would let me hang out today. Of course mum said it's fine since I didn't mention you'd be there."
"Yeah." I exclaimed with a chuckle, "She wouldn't want some satanist whore putting ideas into your head now, would she?"

Kat lived couple streets over from us, in a neighbourhood we weren't too familiar with. The hot weather and the twenty minute trek towards her place was rather difficult. Ginny and I were both bigger girls so we kept stopping in the shade every once in a while to avoid the heat. Ginny already had quite a few health issues so the scorching heat wasn't too kind to her.
As we finally reached our destination, Ginny shot a text to Kat so she'd let us into the block of flats. As soon as she buzzed us in, we rushed to the elevator and went up to her floor. As per usual, she greeted us with a hug and a smile on her face.
"Oh hi, Delia, haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?" Kat inquired more out of politeness than interest.
"Good, prepping for the next school year. What about you?" I inquired, falsifying interest just as she did.
"Good, good. Come on in, you two."

The first few hours were spent chatting, listening to music and simply hanging out. Then, for reasons I can't quite remember, we decided to go up to the top floor and climb onto the roof of the nine-story building. I don't know what the motivation for it was, other than the sheer excitement of doing something we weren't allowed to do. I must admit, I did feel like quite the badass walking on the edge of the roof. Until a gust of wind nearly blew me overboard that is -that made me want to come down ASAP. While I can't recollect what we did while up on the roof, I can remember Ginny walking on all fours due to her fear of heights and Kat spraying deodorant onto a lighter to produce a makeshift flame-thrower. What can I say - we were just dumb kids having fun.
When we went back to Kat's flat, Ginny received a call from her mother, asking her where she was, demanding she'd come home immediately. After she talked to Kat, who confirmed I wasn't there, Ginny's mum told her she could come back to Kat's later, but she needed to come back for dinner. To my dissatisfaction, I was left alone with Kat. I must admit, I didn't quite like her due to the way I was treated by her at school, and I most definitely didn't want to stay there, but, knowing Ginny would come back soon, I clenched my teeth and put on my happy face, acting as if I was enjoying the girl's company. The atmosphere between us was awkward and we didn't really have much to talk about. We watched some videos online and sat around, not talking too much.
"Would you like a drink?" Kat asked all of the sudden.
"Yeah, sure, what do you have?" I inquired with a shrug, expecting her to open the fridge and begin reading the names of juices and pops, or offering me a cup of tea.
"I've got martini." she suggested casually, walking over to one of the cupboards in her kitchen and taking out a rather large bottle of alcohol.
"Martini?" I repeated, anxiously, not knowing how to react to her suggestion, "Won't your mum notice we drank some?"
"She let's me drink. We like to have a drink in the evening." Kat boasted with a grin, "Besides, it's just martini, not some expensive champagne or anything. Don't be a pussy."
"Sure, why not?" I shrugged. For some reason, my anxiety had turned to excitement and it grew by the second as I watched Kat fill up a glass with the strongly-scented liquid and down half of the glass.
I took the glass right after she had set it back down on the glass coffee table and poured the rest of the liquid into my mouth. The taste made me wince a little, but I tried my best not to show it and swallowed the gulp that by then had begun burning my mouth. "Fill it up!" I exclaimed, raising up the empty glass and placing it back on the table. I sat back down on the couch and tried to concentrate on not showing the slightest indication that I've not drunk anything more than an accidental sip of my mum's strawberry cider, thinking it was pop, before.
Before I knew it, more than half of the bottle was gone and Kat was spread out on the couch, staring at the ceiling as loud music blasted from the speakers. Somehow, I ended up drinking way more than Kat did. Maybe it was my way of trying to one-up her, a way of showing her that I'm not as lame and boring as all our classmates seemed to believe, or maybe I just got hooked on the buzz. I remember walking out onto her balcony and letting out a victorious shout, which was followed by Kat's laughter. I finally felt like maybe, just maybe, I was beginning to fit in. All I knew was it felt good.

It wasn't long before Ginny came back. She didn't participate in drinking, so the bottle was put away. Not too long after, we sobered up and cleaned up before Kat's mum got home from work. Knowing we needed the scent of alcohol to be aired out, we decided to take one of Kat's dogs on a walk. I remember us bumping into one of our other classmates, Liam, who was, as normal kids our age did, playing footie with some of the other lads from their neighbourhood. As soon as he greeted us, Kat and Ginny began boasting about how Kat and I had just drunk half-a-bottle of martini, while I stood a few steps back, hoping to not be dragged into the conversation. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to Liam, no -he was one of the few people from my old school that was actually nice to me -I just simply thought it was stupid and irresponsible to brag about such things. We were all minors and word always spreads faster than you can imagine. Thankfully, me switching schools meant it would not travel to my family or anyone else I was close to. To this day, my family isn't aware that the first time I felt the buzz of liquor was at the mere age of twelve, no more than a few weeks before I started seventh grade.