Georgie Sanderson drags me along behind her as she weaves through a line of people that clamber up the driveway to the biggest house I’ve seen in my life.
Self-conscious of my surrounds, I try to make myself invisible but I know that’s impossible, not least because of the barely-there dress my best friend made me wear. Instinctively I move to yank the hem of the fabric, but that proves useless. As soon as I’ve made the front longer, the back goes shorter, and when I readjust the back, the front rides up. Eventually I give up.
I notice that most of the girls arriving at the New Year’s Eve party are dressed similarly, with their legs on show and their cleavage front and center. I thank my lucky stars that Georgie lived by the ‘legs or boobs, but not both’ rule and had lent me a dress that hid my chest and covered most of my arms. The shoes, metallic with at least four inches to them, were a different story entirely. I tottered along obediently behind my confident best friend and froze at the entrance of the Mediterranean style house.
There were at least a hundred people inside, and just thinking of them all made me want to turn and bolt. It took all my strength not to run, even though the idea was made impossible when Georgie tightened her grip on my wrist.
The music plays loudly, the beat of the song lingering out to where I stood and drowned out all my thoughts. I tried to paste on the fake smile I had been practicing all day, but as I saw a drunken Felicity Goodman stumble out into the night on the arm of some bull-like jock, my faux-smile turned to vrai-horror.
Felicity didn’t seem to be in full possession of all her faculties, and I worried that whoever the boy was, he wasn’t a good guy. I contemplated going to rescue Felicity, but when she suddenly tiptoed up and planted a kiss on the boy’s lips, I thought it better to leave them to it. Felicity knew better than me what was good for her. Plus, seeing as I was about to enter the lion’s den, I really should concentrate on my own self-preservation instead of worrying about anyone else’s.
Georgie, being much more socially active than me, was greeted by almost everyone we passed and as she directed me to the kitchen, I noticed just how many people were staring at me. This never happened- people noticing me. Or, rather noticing me for the right reasons instead of all the wrong ones. Hell, even Greyson Parker gawked at me.
I mingled alongside Georgie for what seemed like an age, and as I watched the clock, I started to count down the minutes until I could leave, remembering the one-hour promise I had made in the car.
I laughed along to a joke one of Georgie’s other friends uttered and as my gaze turned sideways, I saw Adam Dayton climb the entrance steps and greet some soccer players at the door. I blinked several times just to make sure it was him, and when I was satisfied that it was, I reverted back in on myself, employing the only tactic that I knew worked for me in this situation.
Fight or flight.
Naturally, I ran.