Alrighty, so here's part one of the party scenes! Hope you all enjoy! :)
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Chapter 12
I do wear the dress in the end. I choose the white lacey one, instead of the little black dress. I figure if I’m going to wear a dress, why not this one. It’s not that short, really, but I feel so hideously self-conscious that I trick myself into thinking it is short.
It doesn’t take me very long to do my hair and put on a little makeup. As for jewelry, I find a pair of simple faux-pearl studs and a thick cream bangle with floral patterns which I put on my left wrist. I’m ready within half an hour – which is just as well, considering Summer’s picking me up in ten minutes.
I grab my overnight bag and jacket, and then head downstairs into the lounge. Dad’s working late, so he’s not home, it’s just me and Mom.
“Oh, Dice, you look lovely,” she tells me with a proud smile. “What time do you think you’ll be home?”
I shrug. “Remember, I told you Tiffany said I can stay over. That’s what Summer and Melissa are doing.” I pat the small overnight bag I packed on my shoulder to emphasize my point. My bag’s only got the bare minimum – toothbrush, pajamas, a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I didn’t think I’d need to bother with my flat irons or my makeup, aside from a compact powder.
“If you want to come home earlier, just let me know.”
“Yeah.”
“And I spoke to your dad earlier,” Mom carries on. “We were both thinking, if you do want to take something to drink – not much, of course, but we trust you. And if you’re thinking of drinking there, if the others are, we’d both rather know you were drinking safely.”
“Really?”
She nods.
“Well… thanks,” I say. “But I wasn’t going to drink, so it’s okay.”
Mom sighs and smiles, the look on her face telling me there are no secrets kept from a mother. She says, “Dice, I know what goes on at parties. I’m not an idiot. And I know what the parties Jenna went to were like. If there’s going to be drinking –”
“If there’s going to be drinking,” I interrupt, “I don’t really care. I don’t want to drink. But thanks for the offer, Mom.”
She looks a little dubious.
“I’m a hundred and thirty eight percent sure, before you ask.”
“Mm.”
“Seriously,” I reiterate. “I’ll let you know if I want to come home earlier.”
“Alright. That’s nice of Tiffany to offer you to sleep over,” she says with a smile. “It makes it a lot easier. But if you do want to come home, just give us a call.”
I nod. “Will do.”
“So how’s Dwight these days? You haven’t talked about him much lately.”
“I haven’t talked about him for, what, the past three days? I’ve only known him about a week, Mom.”
She laughs, and says, “I know, but he seems like a very nice boy.”
“We’re lab partners, so I see him every time I have physics,” I explain. “We have to do a project together though, so I’ll probably end up seeing some more of him. Happy now?”
“Very.”
The sound of a car pulling up outside has me stand up from the couch. I give my mom a quick kiss on the cheek then head to the door.
“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to take –?”
“Yes, Mom. It’s fine, really. I’ll see you… Um… Tomorrow, I guess! Bye!” I hurry as fast as my one-inch heels will let me down the drive, and slide into the back of Summer’s blue Ford, since Marcus has taken shotgun.
“Hey!” she trills.
“Hey,” Marcus grunts.
“Tiff said the party’s started, so we’ll be right on time,” Summer tells me.
“Awesome. I like your dress by the way, it’s really nice.”
“Oh, thanks!” She turns in her seat, hand frozen on the gear stick, just before she pulls off. “You look amazing, Madison, why didn’t you want to wear the dress?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see the gesture since she’s turned back to face the windscreen. “I don’t know. But thanks.”
She laughs. “Marc, you remembered to put the beers in the trunk, right?”
“Course I did.”
“Just checking. Did you bring drink, Madison?”
“Uh, no, I didn’t want to.”
“Oh! Well that’s fair enough, I suppose. We’ve got plenty of drink if you want anything though.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I will.”
“Offer’s there if you want it,” Marcus tells me, then he bumps up the stereo so that unless you sing along to the radio, it’s just loud enough to put a hold on any and all conversation. I don’t know if it’s just because he doesn’t want to talk to me or because he’s not very talkative himself, but when Summer squeals excitedly and cries, “Ooh, I love this song!” and I see the little smile that lights up Marcus’ face, and I know he turned it up just for her.
*
It doesn’t take very long to get to Tiffany’s house. I haven’t visited her before. We hung out at the milkshake bar one night, and Wednesday we went to Melissa’s after school. I’ve heard various snatches of conversation and caught the odd comment about Tiffany’s house though. From what I’ve gathered, it’s big and expensive.
When Summer slows on the stretch of road outside Tiffany’s house before pulling onto her long driveway, I get my first glimpse of it.
It doesn’t let me down.
For one thing, there are gates outside. The big electric gates that keep unwanted and unwelcome guests out, and have an intercom at the side. The gates are already open as we pull through them.
It’s freaking huge. There’re neat lawns either side of the long gravel driveway, and I can just about make out sprinklers set into the grass. The house itself is an impressive sight – there are huge glass windows and everything about it is modern and it’s blatantly an expensive property. From what I can see inside, the rooms are beautifully decorated – seemingly more for appearance than for comfort.
“Welcome to Chez Blanche,” Summer tells me with a giggle as she climbs out of her car. I grab my bag and slide out of the back seat, closing the door behind me.
I’m glad I didn’t opt for bigger heels than I’m wearing. I don’t know how Summer manages to reach the front door of the house in her shoes, which are at least three and a half inch stilettos.
There’s music thumping from inside the house, and it gets more definable and much louder as Summer throws open the door. Marcus follows her in, and then I trail in behind them. There are people milling around in the hallway, and wandering around. A couple of people sit on the spiral mahogany staircase. The music is loud and I can feel the bass reverberating through me like an adrenaline rush.
Marcus drifts away to talk to some guys I recognize from the soccer or football team, chatting more enthusiastically than I’ve seen him talk yet. Summer grabs my wrist and drags me up the stairs, weaving in and out of people gracefully as I stumble in her wake.
“We’ll toss our stuff on Tiff’s bed,” she tells me. “Then we’ll find the girls.”
“Okay,” I call back over the noise of the party. I know it started about half an hour ago, but it doesn’t look very busy. Maybe it really was just a small get-together after all.
Tiffany’s room is humungous. Probably three times the size of my room.
“Hang on two secs,” Summer tells me. “I’ll just toss my jacket in the closet.”
She slides a mirrored door that I thought was part of the wall back to reveal a walk-in closet adorned with shelves of shoes and stacks of bags everywhere, and sparkly sequined trinket boxes, and then there are rails and rails and rails of clothes.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Summer laughs when she sees my expression – which is partly amazed, a little envious, and also kind of horrified at how someone could spend so much on clothes. “That’s Tiff for you. Now come on, Madison, let’s party!”
Again, she grabs my wrist with a surprisingly tight grip for such a slim girl, and hauls me out of there. As we get to the top of the stairs, I see a group of people coming in, and all of a sudden fear takes hold of me, blocking out the adrenaline and even the bass pumping through me. I start to panic at the thought of being at a house party with all the popular kids. Oh, and not to forget the fact that Tiffany’s trying to set me up with Bryce. Yeah, that’s pretty darn scary too.
“Hold on,” I say frantically to Summer. “I need to run to the bathroom.”
“Oh, okay. Use the one in Tiffany’s room,” she instructs me. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen, okay?”
I nod, and say, “Okay,” even though it doesn’t occur to me I have no idea where the kitchen is. But I turn and walk as calmly as I possibly can back to Tiffany’s room. I go into the en-suite bathroom and lock the door.
The music isn’t so loud now, more of a muffled background noise, and the bass doesn’t seem to be as strong here. The entire bathroom is white. White sink, white bath, white toilet, white towels, white white white. It’s kind of soothing, actually. I sit on the edge of the bath and lean over, my elbows resting on my knees and my forehead resting in my palms.
My hands feel clammy, and they tremble against my head. My knees quake a little, too, but I can’t tell if that’s because I’m resting my feet on a nerve or not. My breathing comes out shallow, but I’m not hyperventilating – well, not yet, anyway.
My iPod is tucked in my pajamas in my bag, on the other side of the bathroom door. But I can’t find the will to stand up and go get it.
I couldn’t tell Summer because I knew she wouldn’t understand, but the fact is, I’m scared.
People my age probably take parties for granted. They’ve been to at least one to know what’s going on. They know a bunch of people there, at the bare minimum. Sure, I know some people here, but so what? I’ve known them for a week. I can barely remember names to match to faces of other people they introduced me too, and I’m not sociable enough to go and talk to one of the people I vaguely recognize. I’m so used to keeping myself out of it as best as I can I don’t know how to get in.
I don’t want to drink at this party; I’d been telling Mom the truth. But I’d think it was a pretty safe bet to say everyone else will be drinking, and I don’t know what drunk people act like, or even how to act around drunk people. What if this all completely sucks, and I’m just scared and lonely and shy and silent all night?
I can see myself ringing my mom to come pick me up, I honestly can.
I put my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes tight shut, like that will block out all my thoughts.
It’s all too loud. Too much.
I can’t do this. I can’t. I don’t belong here, with these people. I’m too different. Too weird. I can’t do this.
I heave myself up from the bathtub and lean over the sink instead, looking into the big bright mirror set onto the wall.
And it’s only upon seeing my reflection that I remember I don’t have to be scared and shy and lonely and silent all night, because that’s not me anymore. That was the old Madison. And the new Madison is confident, and she can handle herself at a party – even if she does end up phoning her mom for a ride home.
I stand up a little straighter, and push my bangs out of my eye and back into place. I lean over the sink closer to the mirror, to check my makeup is all still perfect. Then I stand up again and smile at myself, a big, bright, confident grin.
If I can pretend I can do this long enough, maybe I’ll trick myself into believing it.
I can totally do this.
If I look at everything from the other angle – I’m at a party hosted by one of the most popular girls in the entire school, and I’m in with the popular kids after being in school only a week, so even if I don’t know everybody yet, I guess you could say I know the ‘right’ people. And one of my new friends is trying to set me up with one of the most popular guys in school because she thinks he likes me.
When I look at everything that way, the grin on my face doesn’t feel as forced and the fearful anticipation that makes my heart beat faster is replaced by an excited anticipation. I steel myself with a few deep breaths, and head out of the bathroom before I can think about it anymore.
I walk with my head held high, exuding confidence like I’m not faking every bit of it. I even make it all the way to the bottom of the spiral staircase without tripping. I smile at people who I don’t even really know as I try to find the kitchen.
I don’t know how long I was up in that bathroom, but jeez, there are tons of people here now. The entrance is congested and there are masses of people spilling into the rooms. I don’t know if Tiffany invited this many people, or if they just turned up because they heard about the party but either way – ‘small get-together’ my butt.
I get there eventually, after weaving my way to the end of the hallway and then through the dining room.
The kitchen has granite worktops and everything is silver and chrome, from the refrigerator to the waffle iron. Just like everything else in the house it is, surprise, surprise, very contemporary. People are hanging around and cracking open bottles or beer cans, and there’s a keg in the corner with a stack of plastic cups next to it – red ones, just like there were at the party on the beach.
“Madison!” calls a voice. I crane my neck, going on my tiptoes to see around the throngs of people in the kitchen. Sometimes I really hate being short. Right now, I’m almost wishing I’d worn higher heels. But I spot Allison, one of the seniors, waving to me, and I push through people until I reach her, standing by the keg. Melissa’s there too.
“Hey,” I say. “You guys having a good time so far?”
“Yeah,” they both say, nodding. Allison adds, “I love that dress. So cute.”
“Thanks.” I smile and pluck at the skirt of my dress. “You guys look awesome too.”
I don’t say it because I’m trying to make conversation, or be polite, but because they both look great. Okay, Allison’s dress is a little too tightly fitted to be considered modest, but it’s long enough that it doesn’t come off as hoochy. Melissa’s dress is girly and cute – purple with a white belt, and a soft, flowing (and rather short) skirt.
Melissa adds, “Allison’s picked out tonight’s victim. See that guy in the red and black shirt, brown hair?” I start to turn my head then she grabs my shoulder to stop me. “Not so obvious!”
So I turn my head slower, pretending to fidget with my hair, and obviously this gets her approval since she doesn’t grab me back again.
Melissa carries on, “That’s Peter Down. Senior at Buchanan High, and he plays tennis and soccer.”
I nod, even though this doesn’t mean much to me at all. I know Buchanan High is like, the biggest rival school for sports and stuff, and I know the kids from there usually come to parties, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge.
I say, “Who’s that girl he’s with though?”
There’s a girl I vaguely recognize, so she must be someone from school, and she’s giggling and twirling her hair at something Peter Down, senior at Buchanan High, says to her.
“Not his girlfriend,” Allison answers me firmly. “And definitely won’t have hooked up with him by the end of the night.”
“Okay…” I reply slowly.
“You having a drink, Madison?” Melissa asks me all of a sudden, as she refills her plastic cup at the keg.
“Uh, no. Thanks.”
“You aren’t drinking?” Allison raises an eyebrow at me, and regards me for a moment.
“No,” I tell her. “I don’t really drink.”
“Seriously?” Melissa gapes at me momentarily, her eyes widening to circles.
“Yeah, I, um, just don’t drink.”
“Why not?” she asks. She sounds more curious and interested than anything else; she doesn’t ask the question brusquely, as though she can’t possibly imagine a reason why I wouldn’t want to drink, so that reassures me a little.
“I just don’t like to,” I tell her honestly. “Are there any sodas in the refrigerator?”
“Diet or non-diet?” Allison asks me.
“Diet.”
“They’ll be on the middle shelf,” she tells me with a smile. “You’ll find them easy. Mel, come on, you’re my wingman.”
“Wing-woman,” Melissa corrects, but adds, “Do I really have to?”
“Yes. Catch you later, Madison!”
“See ya,” I say. I don’t want them to leave me, since they’re two of the very few people I know at this party, but I can’t do much about it. I reach the big chrome refrigerator and pull a door open to grab one of the silver Diet Coke cans.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I take a sip of my drink, and assess my situation now. I should find Tiffany, or Summer… Even Kyle or Adam, or Ricky. At least Bryce. Then I’d have someone to talk to, and hopefully they’d introduce me to some people who I don’t really know too well so I can make it through this party without being a complete outsider.
The one flaw in that plan is the simple fact that I have no idea where any of them are.
Only one thing to do then, isn’t there? Look for them, idiot.
With a slight sigh, I push myself off the counter and start making my way through the rooms, keeping my eyes peeled for a friendly face I can put a name to. It’s harder than I anticipated, though, trying to get through the writhing bodies dancing to the pounding music, or through the clusters of people milling around talking and drinking.
I shove my way through a couple of gossiping, tipsy girls, and burst free into the hallway.
“Ricky!” I cry in relief, when I spot him standing by the spiral staircase. He looks over, startled, and then smiles when he sees me waving a hand to him. I’m so glad I’ve found someone I know at last, and push my way over to him. He’s with a couple of guys I’m not sure I know, but I don’t care.
“Hey,” he says. “Why are you looking so happy to see me all of a sudden?”
“Don’t I always look happy to see you?”
He laughs and shrugs. “I knew you’d fall for my charm eventually.”
“Sure. I’m practically swooning all over you.”
“Honey, you can swoon over me any time you want,” he says in a low, slow, suggestive voice, waggling his eyebrows. I don’t know how he manages to joke around and keep such a straight face. I burst out laughing (being careful not to snort), but feel my cheeks have grown slightly flushed.
“You’re looking a little lost,” he observes.
“Ah, well now that is probably because I lost everybody,” I tell him, laughing. He nods in understanding then takes another gulp from his bottle of beer.
“Guys, you know Madison, right?”
They all nod and mumble ‘yes’ or ‘hey’, and I respond to them with a shy smile, not sure who to look at.
“Madison,” Ricky continues, “this is the guys.”
“Hi,” I say. I’d have said it shyly and quietly, but since the music’s so loud I have to shout or they’d have absolutely no chance of hearing me.
One of the guys I kind of recognize from my Algebra II class – Owen, I think? – throws back his head and drains the last dregs of booze in the can he’s holding. “I’m gonna get another beer, anyone else want something?”
“Yeah, grab me one,” one of the other guys says. Everyone else shakes their heads.
“Madison?” the guy who might be called Owen calls to me.
I shake my head as well. “No thanks.”
He shrugs. “Be right back.” He slips away, edging around me.
The guys start discussing their training schedules for whatever sports they’re involved in. I stand there sipping my can of Diet Coke, not involved in but listening to the conversation, and quite happy to just stand there.
And I’m actually having an okay time until someone smacks my butt.
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Uh-oh, wonder who that could be... :p I guess you'll have to wait until Wednesday(ish) when I next upload! Let me know what you think though :D x
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