My eyes flickered, trying to open, but the light forced them shut. "Urgh," I said, covering my head with my hands, trying to rub away the ache. What did I do to deserve this headache? I thought. But then I suddenly remembered everything. From the minute I snuck out to the minute I saw stars, "Fuck," I shouted, instantly widening my eyes and sitting upright.
I brushed my hands through my dried-up, tangled hair and along my chest. I was still wearing the black mesh top I went out in and my flares. "Flowers, lilac flowers," I said, stroking the duvet covering me, "How did I get back here?"
Catching and releasing my lungs, I tried to figure out how I got home. I couldn't have possibly walked, and I wouldn't have called a taxi, would I? My mind was so foggy. The confusion arose warmth under my tingling skin, and my stomach turned a million miles per hour. All of a sudden, my cheeks flushed, and I heaved, "Urgh," I gagged.
Shoving the quilt back, I ran to my bathroom with my hand holding my mouth. I puked my guts up all over the toilet and in it. Its colourful design spreading over my floor wasn't looking as delicious as it tasted. Its grim taste burnt my insides more than when I was swallowing it.
"Oh god," I mumbled, cradling my aching head as I sat on my knees. My every nerve twinged like they were having their own party beneath my skin, except it hurt.
Every inch of my body hurt.
I took a deep breath and used the sink to guide me up; my muscles trembled, and nausea rose again, making my stomach tense, "Urgh." I spewed, crying as my sink got the artwork whilst my hands clung tightly to the rim.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, joining the sweat on my face. The aroma pulled my stomach, making every second of it worse, and vomit soaked my hair. I needed to clean up before Mum saw the rainbow-coloured massacre painting my bathroom. But seeing as I was home, I could assume she and Dad were fully aware of last night's antics. I was surprised they hadn't barged in the minute I made a noise.
Slowly standing upright, I gazed into the mirror; I looked like shit. I wiped my face and shook my head in dismay, holding my aching tummy before running the taps to rinse the sink. I used an entire toilet paper roll to wipe up as much as possible, flushing it all down.
Fumbling through the cabinet draws, I found a pack of face wipes and used them to clean the white ceramic, hoping it would smell a little nicer. It didn't. So I poured hand wash down the loo before flushing it.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I slowly stripped my clothes off, trying not to pain my tortured body. I didn't remember feeling this rough before; how was it so different? Why would anyone choose to drink if this was how it made them feel? Never again, I told myself.
Pulling open the shower door, I climbed in, preparing myself. I usually loved my power shower, but not then. It hit me full force, washing away every scent of alcopops, sick, pizza, and cigarette smoke.
I stood under the tepid water for as long as it numbed my body and appreciated the silence. Though the buzzing in my ears was another reminder of what was to come the minute I faced my parents. I tried to relax. I washed my hair and soaped my body gently, worried I'd be showering in vomit if I brushed too hard in its fragile state.
Climbing out, I took my nightgown from the back of the bathroom door, wrapped myself in it, and brushed my hair and teeth. I was soaked, but the idea of drying myself was too draining. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, I looked back at myself; I looked a little better, though my pale-coloured face told me I was in for a rough day. And when I opened the door back into my bedroom, seeing Mum and Dad sitting on my bed, it was about to get worse.
Here we go, I thought.
Their faces were sketched with blank expressions, not looking half as angry as I had anticipated, "I'm sorry," I tried through gritted teeth.
"What for Ashley?" Mum said in a disturbingly calm tone, tapping her foot with her arms crossed.
"Shouting at you, sneaking out and drinking."
"Right," she nodded, and Dad grunted and stood up, making me wince.
"How about going to a house surrounded by intoxicated hooligans and drinking way too much with no adult supervision," he snapped, looking down at me, worried, not angry. Genuinely worried, guilt-tripping me instantly.
"Dad, I'm sorry I am. I was upset."
"Upset!" he paused, "I was upset when I got a phone call from Oliver's parents in the early hours of the morning saying you had passed out at a party."
"Huh? What? Olly's?"
"And they weren't best pleased about being woken up either, and neither was Olly. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I, er."
"Ashley," Mum said. Her deep brown eyes looked cautiously at me, and I watched them gloss over. "What you did last night was careless. From the second you left this house, you put yourself in danger. Anything could have happened to you, anything. Didn't you think?"
"No, I didn't." I put my hands in my pockets. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to be a normal sixteen-year-old and go to a party, and you never let me out."
"We know, and that's why, from now on, we may loosen the reins a little," Mum said, looking at me, then to Dad, who looked wry.
I let out a are you joking kind of laugh and said, "What's going on? Why aren't you screaming at me and grounding me?"
"Sit down, Ashley," Mum insisted, pulling the desk chair out, stopping the pacing I had unknowingly started to do. I looked at her curiously and sat, nervously scratching the nail polish from my nails. "We want you to be safe, and we want to know where you are, what you're doing and who you are with," she said. "Last night kind of put us in our place."
I listened with my eyes glued to them, dumbfounded, questioning who had cloned my overprotective parents and what they had done with them.
"When we were your age, we were doing things I don't even want to imagine you doing, alcohol, drugs, parties, sex." I cringed as revulsion cascaded over me at the thought of my parents having sex.
"I knew karma would come back and bite us in the ass," Dad added, shaking his head as he gazed around my room. "Can you not put ideas in her head."
"Let's face it; those ideas are already there," Mum said, looking to me, then to Dad and sighed. "Look at her. Sneaking out, hungover, and with a boyfriend."
"Olly," I blurted out. "I need to see him and apologise. We argued, and we haven't spoken since. I only went to that party, thinking that's where he would be. Oh, I'm so stupid; I bet he hates me." I started to cry and hung my head in my palms, and Mum moved closer.
"I wish he was there; then I could blame him for this," Dad muttered as he left the room.
Mum lifted my head and moved my hands aside, wiping my tears. "Ignore your dad; he's upset; he will come round."
I nodded with a sniffle, "Why aren't you angry with me?"
"Trust me, I am, but you need to learn from your mistakes, and I can see you have; I can smell it from here."
"Sorry," I sighed with a reluctant smile. "Can I go next door and apologise before you ground me indefinitely?"
"You're not grounded, and you can in a bit, you need paracetamols, food and fluids in you first," Mum said, rubbing my back.
"Thanks, Mum. I truly am sorry. I won't sneak out again."
"I know you won't." She smiled, running her fingers through my wet hair.
*
"I'm sorry," I blurted out as soon as the door opened.
"Morning, Ashley," Olly's dad said, and I recoiled. He must have had a right opinion of me after everything I had done in such a short time, and there was no doubt my mum and dad discussed it with him and Olly's mum every weekend.
"Oh, sorry, Sir, I was expecting Olly."
"Call me Calvin, not Sir," he insisted, and I agreed with a nod. "So, how are you feeling on this fine summer's day?"
Calvin was mocking me. Either because he was much less strict as a parent or lightening the tension written all over me. "Er, I'm okay," I muttered, looking at my feet and scraping my shoe against the floor. "I'm sorry about last night."
"No comment, Ashley; I was young once," he said, baffling me. I deserved to be punished for my reckless behaviour. Yet, my parents and even Olly's parents weren't telling me off, making me dread how Olly would handle it. He would be the most gruelling; someone had to be.
"Dad," Olly grunted, moving him aside.
"Bye, Ashley." Calvin smiled and walked away.
"Olly, I'm so sorry, so so so sorry." He looked at me and kept a straight face, it taunted me, but I deserved it. He grabbed his shoes, put them on, and shut the door, stepping beside me.
"Come on. Let's go for a walk," Olly muttered, ushering me down the driveway.
"Are you mad at me?"
"Mad? Of course I'm mad," his voice cracked. "You stormed out of my house, went missing for a few hours, and never contacted me. I then got a phone call and had to wake my parents up to wake up your parents to get you home."
Olly was pissed, and I had no idea how to get myself out of it; it was our first proper fight.
"I'm sorry, I don't know how many times you want me to say it, but I'll say it all day for the rest of the summer if I have to. The rest of my life even." I begged. "I'm stupid and stubborn. It just upset me you never told me about the party."
"And do you see why now?" he said sarcastically. "I knew it wouldn't be a party like you expected."
"I guess so. It wasn't even Lewis's party. It was his brother's. Who is super pleasant, by the way," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Why didn't you go?"
Olly stopped walking, looked at me and puffed out his chest. "If you asked, I would have had the chance to tell you I'm not into drinking and parties instead of getting the wrong idea. You think I'm like Lewis, but I'm not. Just because I'm sporty, it doesn't mean I'm some party boy jock. I grew up on the coast with friends and had a childhood outside. I've worked my ass off to keep fit. That's who I am. That's all I am. I wasn't on the beach drinking as you imagine."
"I don't think that," I tried. Did I? Is that what he thinks I thought of him? Oh god, he did. Since day one, all I've gone on about is popularity and parties. I had never once asked him about his hobbies back home or his friends. He's right, I just assumed he had those experiences, and I was missing out on them. I was jealous, not only of my so-called friends but of Olly. I wanted anybody's life but my own.
"Sometimes, Ashley, I think you live far too much in your teenage films and magazines. It's not real life, and it's not good for you. Can we just forget about it?"
I nodded, not sure of what to say. Olly was right.
My perfect boyfriend had undoubtedly put me in place, and then it hit me. "Where are you going?" I blurted out, widening his gaze.
"Going? I'm not going anywhere?" he said, fiddling with his chord bracelets.
"A boy from last night told me you were leaving. What did he mean? Where are you going?"
My words altered his expression. His gaze dived deep into mine as if they were trying to relive my conversation with this so-called boy, saving him from asking questions. "And you believed him?" is all he said before stepping back, putting distance between us, and I was suddenly the bad guy for questioning him. "A boy, who I wouldn't know, seeing as I have only lived here for five minutes."
Olly was more upset than ever, and I felt my heart crack. What was I doing? Why was I ruining the best thing that had ever happened to me over some stupid comment? Olly loved me, and I knew that. "You're right. I'm sorry, I don't know why I believed him. I don't know him," I said, closing the space between us.
I cupped his face and leaned in, kissing his unbearably tempting lips, and he kissed me back. "Can you forgive me?" I asked, and he smiled, kissing me again.
After twenty-four hours without him, I was back where I belonged.
*
"I can't believe you snuck out and went to a party," Alex laughed, "Was it good?"
Was it good? How would I know if it was? I had never been to a party to compare it with. I had fun, but it was far from what I expected. There were no spin-the-bottle games, truth or dare, and if rude boys and intimidating girls were fun, then maybe? But was the hangover and argument with Olly worth it? No, I guess not.
"Erm, it was okay, mediocre at best, but I had to spend all day yesterday grovelling to Olly and my parents," I shrugged as I flicked through the clothes rail.
"Oh, a bust then?"
"Pretty much," I nodded. "You wouldn't believe how my mum and v have been; they haven't even grounded me. They said, and I quote, they would loosen the reins a little."
"What, really?"
"Yeah, they said they would rather know where I am than me sneaking out."
"That's crazy; what's gotten into them? Even my parents would have locked me in my room, and they don't sound as bad as yours," Alex laughed, and so did I.
"I keep asking myself the same thing, but I might as well go with it rather than question it. They could change their minds," I shrugged. "Do you think these suit me?" I asked, picking up purple cord flares, then held up a T-shirt with a tie attached to its hanger, "Or this?"
"Erm, I like them both," she agreed. "I think you should get these; they're pretty and would suit you." I took the black lace gloves and ran my fingers down the floral pattern.
"Umm, they are beautiful," I said, putting my fingers into the gap and my thumb in the thumb hole. I instantly liked how my hands fit perfectly into them. They ran down my forearms and covered up my knuckles. I looked in the mirror, and with black nail varnish, they would look great.
"You're kinda into the skater look, aren't you?" Alex asked, fingering the small badges on the accessory section.
Looking around, I had unconsciously wandered into the clothes section where no fear and quicksilver labels hung, and no bright colours existed. And with black tights and dark t-shirts filling my shopping basket, she had caught me out.
I did like that Becca girl's outfit, and there was no competition for preference over Lauren and her fashion sense. I didn't need to read magazines to blend in with that crowd. It came naturally. It was me.
Even with the likes of Kyle, who was downright the most intimidating person I had ever met, I would pick his company over anyone at Bailey. Somehow he knew me, even when I didn't know him. The more I questioned how the more he intruded into my mind. His hands on my shoulders sent shivers down my spine more than I would have liked. His mysterious grey stare pulled at my stomach, and his breath on my face rose warmth in places only Olly should. Yet, with never seeing him again and his imprint of harsh words in my mind, I could only hope I had stained his expensive vans.
"Ashley?" Alex said, nudging me.
"Huh, yes, yes I am," I grinned. "I know it isn't what everyone likes, which means I won't fit in with the majority, but I'm okay with that. Being true to myself has made me the happiest I've been in a long time."
"I like it," Alex smiled.
"You do?"
"Nothing new to me, there are loads of kids like that at Oakley, and they're no different."
"Huh," I muttered, furrowing my brow. "I wish Bailey were like that; it's so stereotypical. If you don't fit, you don't belong."
"Don't go back then," she said, and I wished I didn't have to.
"Transfer," we simultaneously shouted, jumping up and down, nearly losing half our baskets.
"Oh my god, why didn't I think about that before," I squealed.
"It's such a good idea. Move to Oakley for A levels, screw Bailey." Alex laughed.
"There is one problem," I mumbled, fiddling with my hair. "Olly, I can't leave Olly."
Alex tutted and shook her head, "Surely, he would understand."
"Yeah, he would, but I know I'll lose him if I leave. I can't imagine being apart from him."
"Erm Ashley, he's your neighbour," she smiled as we walked to the tills and stood in line. "Nothing would change."
And I guess she was right, Olly would understand, and he would still be right next door. He knew how Bailey made me feel. Just thinking about going back made me anxious. A clean slate and new friends would be a fantastic way to finish my school life before university. But seeing as Olly was my only set plan for my future, I quickly brushed the idea aside.
"Is there anywhere else you need to go?" Alex asked, hovering in the doorway as I sorted my bags.
"Erm, I don't think so. I told Olly I would be back at his for five."
"I'm surprised he let you out to see me," she joked, shoving her shoulder against mine. "Sammy thought he had kidnapped you."
"Ohh, Olly's not like that. If anything, I'm the one who hasn't wanted to leave him. But I think I've been getting on his nerves a bit lately. He wants to talk more, whereas I want to kiss him all the time."
"I've seen him. I understand," Alex snorted. "So, I guess that means you don't want to come to my sleepover at the weekend?"
"What?" I beamed. "No, I'll be there."
"Good, I can't wait." Alex hugged me and twiddled with my hair before letting go and said, "Think about Oakley; I think you'd be much happier, and I'll see you on Friday."
I nodded and said, "I will," and waved, walking in the opposite direction towards home.
I thought nothing more of Oakley. Olly wouldn't be there, so there was no point in getting hung up on the notion, even if it was a great idea that could change my school life forever.