The Kill Instinct

1. Sober

My parents are never home.

They're gone for a long while, out cruising the Atlantic or some crap. Other kids would see it like a dream: living in a big house on land, no one to tell you what to do and where to go. That's about the only benefit.

Hence why I'm having the party, it gets lonely here. Sure, Year 12 has been great but no one seems to organise anything fun to do. My friends are always busy with assignments; me too, of course but I'm not one to aim for an A+. So I just spend my time building crap, like the patio I'm finishing now. Something about building is a good distraction.

I whack another nail into the second last slab of wood. How much time till they arrive again? My watch blinks at me in the heavy sun;  it's 2:00pm. Everyone will begin to crowd the place at 6, but I have Myla and Carly coming an hour early to help set up.

Myla and Carly. They're my two best girl friends, having taken me into their friend group the minute I joined up at Crystal Bay High. We've known each other for a year. Myla is handling the music for me tonight; she's the DJ of the group and my go-to for a drink when I'm down. Carly also brings the drink with the advice but she also gives amazing hugs to whoever she thinks needs them. The both of them with hearts of gold, I envy them.

Thud. Done.

I bounce off the patio onto the lawn to admire my work. The white two storey house looms lazily over the reddish planks' rough but satisfying look. Of course with everything I make, it's not perfect, as I notice the wonky angles and some mishappen nails. I guess their rustic demeanour complements the house's underlying wild side which, I hope, we will enjoy tonight. Not to mention my horrible sense of straight lines.

A pool beside me laps at its elegant concrete sides, and I turn back to get a glimpse of the outlook from the patio. Green grass stretches out for a hundred metres back, a couple of gumtrees standing tall and proud. I smile at the zip line between a couple of them, one of my favourite contraptions. A secondary, smaller platform sits off to the right of the pool for Myla to set up her DJ set on, leaving just enough grass for a dancing crowd. With the sunset glimpsing through those trees, this will be one hell of a good view.

I set about hammering in the annoying nails that had refused to be normal and get into the wood. I don't have time to oil it or anything, but I do give the boards a quick sand so no one gets splinters. Shoes will be off, guaranteed; I can see it now that half the pool will be splashed over its sides. The boards hiss with each circle of the sander, dust particles floating carelessly into the air.

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, half the time spent wandering around mindlessly while setting up all I can. Pool cleaned. Chairs scattered. Booze stocked. Fairy lights up. Expensive things that are easily trashed at wild parties locked in laundry. Eventually I find myself upstairs cleaning up the three spare bedrooms, changing the sheets to my least favourites in case some of my friends got really drunk. You know what I mean. Gross!

Leaving the last room grimacing, I make a mental note to force whoever happens to end up sleeping there to clean up their own mess.

I stumble into my own room, which is a burst of colour compared to the stark whiteness of the rest of the house. Floor to ceiling windows draped with gold curtains, my queen bed covered in its sea green quilt and mismatched pillows. The back wall is painted a beautiful blue, a small desk and Mac sitting idle in one corner. I smile at the shelves of stuffed animals and books of my childhood as I slide open the mirrored wardrobe doors to pick and outfit. It's 4:30, so I have half an hour to get ready.