Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  Technology moved too fast for my mother. She was terrified of the internet, convinced that all her personal information could be swiped just by hitting the Explorer button once. She yelled—no, screamed her order at the drive-thru box, and I could just imagine the poor person inside, cringing at the volume in her headset. She did the same thing on a cell phone, one finger in the opposite ear, nearly shouting into the handheld.

  I was reminded of Homer Simpson, trying to order a tab from his computer. That was my dear old mom. I sprang lightly into the room and grabbed the next envelope from her hand before she could sponge roller it.

  “Hey mom. Can I help?” I asked sweetly. Before she could answer, I dragged my tongue over the entire strip of glue.

  “Mackenzie Anne!” My mom exclaimed. “What are you thinking? You’ll get eggs in your tongue!”

  I laughed at her a moment. Her sheer ludicrously was so very entertaining.

  “I’m glad you think it’s funny now. You won’t be laughing the day you hatch a cute little baby cockroach out of your mouth.” She shuddered, but a smile crept onto her lips. “You’re feeling better.” She observed.

  “Yeah. I think I just needed to sleep.”

  “Probably stressed. All that studying.” She smiled knowingly.

  “Oh, yeah. Totally. Studying all night, all day. It’s exhausting.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “So … can I help or what?”

  “You really want to?” She asked, surprised.

  “Sure. Why not.” I pulled a chair up to the desk and she slid half the pile over to me. I looked at the invitation a moment—the sweeping calligraphy, the translucent paper edged with delicate silver embellishments. It was pretty. Fairly over the top, but pretty.

  I sat with my mom the rest of the afternoon. We actually had a good time; my mom could be cool when she wasn’t ragging on me for every little thing. It helped when I wasn’t going out of my way to be a pain in the ass too—though I did lick every envelope by tongue, just to bug her.

  When we were nearly done, I suddenly had a brilliant idea. I started touching the edge of my tongue with my fingertips, as if it were a subconscious gesture. She noticed, but didn’t think anything of it, at first. I kept doing it, but progressed from just touching my tongue to kind of scraping it, as if it were itching. She watched me more carefully, but continued talking. Suddenly, after a few more moments, I sat up abruptly, made my eyes widen with horror, put my hand to my mouth and made a perfect, choking/gasping noise.

  Her face went as white as a sheet. She stared at me, aghast, too petrified to even move from her chair. All her medical school training, right out the window. I couldn’t help it, I tried to keep it up, but she was too funny. I collapsed in my chair, giggling, holding my sides with laughter.

  “Mackenzie Anne!” She screamed at me in total shock, only when it became evident that I was, in fact, not hatching a cockroach from my mouth. I laughed harder, and her face went beet red. After a few minutes of disgraced anger, she began to laugh as well, shaking her head at her own foolishness. “That’ll teach me.” She muttered.

  We were still laughing when the front door opened unexpectedly. Marcy came in, flushed with happiness, perfection in a black blazer and white blouse, dark pressed jeans and shiny black pointy-toe boots. My laughter subsided at the sight of her.

  “Marcy!” Mom exclaimed. She got to her feet and hugged my sister enthusiastically. “We just finished up the invitations.”

  “You helped?” She asked me in surprise.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged.

  “She was a great help.” Mom added.

  “Still in your pyjamas? It’s five-thirty.”

  “I was sick today.”

  “What was so funny? When I came in you were laughing pretty hard.” Marcy set her purse down and unbuttoned her jacket.

  “Oh, Mackenzie made a joke. She pretended to hatch a cockroach off her tongue.” Mom laughed again in remembrance.

  “Nice.” Marcy raised her eyebrows sarcastically. “That sounds funny. So, mom, I wanted to run some things by you ….”

  “I’m going back to bed.” I announced quickly. “I feel my headache coming back.”

  “Don’t you want something to eat?” Mom gazed at me with concern. “It might help. I could make us some nice pasta or something.” She suggested hopefully.

  I looked from her to Marcy. “No, I’m good, thanks.” I decided.

  “Oh, okay ….” She sounded doubtful, but then her attention was diverted by a sample that Marcy held up. I took the sudden opportunity to make my escape, back to the quiet of my room.

  CHAPTER 16

  I was dying for a cigarette. I sat cross-legged on my bed, painting my nails to keep from biting them. I had no excuse to leave the house, and no way could I light up without my mom finding out. I blew on the black lacquer, tapping my foot impatiently. It was Friday night. I wondered what everyone was doing. I wanted to call Charlie, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want them to view me as a little, annoying kid always tagging along. If they wanted to hang out with me, I’d wait for them to call.

  I just may be waiting forever.

  I thought about Ben and Toby and Jacob. I wondered if they were sitting in the same spots on Ben’s nice leather sectional, eating handfuls of munchies and reciting the lines from Half Baked as it played on the big screen. Even that would be a more welcome scenario than hanging out in my bedroom all night, but I doubted my mom would let me leave since I’d been “sick” all day.

  Just then—like an answer from heaven—my cell phone started to ring, lost in the bottom reaches of my purse. I fell to my knees, wet nails and all, and dug through the bag until the purple Nokia was safe in my hand. It was Charlie calling. I answered excitedly.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, chicka. What’s happening?”

  “Um … not too much.” I sat against the bed. “Just hanging out at home. Painting my nails.”

  “Why? It’s a Friday night!”

  “I know. But I stayed home from school today, so I can’t really go out.”

  “Oh, really? Why’d you stay home?”

  “I didn’t feel well.” I shrugged.

  “Huh. Hey, what happened to you last night? Why didn’t you come with us?”

  “Oh ….” I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. “I just wanted to walk.”

  “How come? What did Grey say to you?”

  I groaned.

  “Come on? Was it bad? I thought you two were going to be something.”

  “So did I.” I sighed, and took her through the whole conversation that Grey and I had shared. “He just wanted to make sure I didn’t think I was like, his girlfriend or something now.”

  “Really? That sucks.”

  “I know. I thought we hit it off.”

  “Hmmm ….” Charlie paused in thought. “… Well, why don’t you come out tonight? Take your mind off things?”

  “Oh, I don’t know ….” I wanted to, I really did. But the thought of seeing Grey again made me uneasy. Still excited, but uneasy. I didn’t know how I should act around him now.

  “Come on. Just you and me … no boys allowed. We can have a slumber party. A tequila slumber party. And tomorrow you can come with me to see the guys play.”

  I laughed out loud. It sounded like a ton of fun, and the thought of seeing Grey with a microphone made it all the more enticing. “Oh, I’d love to, I really would … I don’t know … I could check with my mom.”

  “Do it.”

  “I’m in my pyjamas still.” I laughed again.

  “That’s perfect. We’re having a slumber party, remember? Go talk to your mom and call me back. I’ll come pick you up.”

  “Okay … are you sure? You wouldn’t rather go out with your friends or something?”

  “Mackenzie, you are my friend. Now, shut up, go talk to your mom.”

  “Okay, okay. Bye.” I was laughing as I hung up the phone. I smiled. I couldn’t believe I had ever thou
ght badly of Charlie. She was so awesome, so cool, and really, really nice. She wasn’t Riley, but was fast becoming a close second.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “One, two, three … go!”

  Quickly, without looking, breathing or smelling, I flipped up my shot glass and forced down the strong, pungent tequila in one gulp. It burned all the way down my throat. I picked up a wedge of lemon and sucked the sour juice from the yellow rind.

  “Woooooh!” Charlie screamed, and filled our shot glasses again.

  I giggled and clutched the counter for support. After convincing my mom that Charlie and I would spend a quiet night in front of a chick flick or two, my friend had picked me up—half-cut already—and we’d been drinking tequila ever since. We were alone at her house; she had told Zack specifically that it was girls only tonight. Charlie was still fairly dressed up from work; she wore some tight back Capri’s and a red low-cut blouse. I felt kind of plain compared to her, in my jeans and white Deftone’s t-shirt. But I was comfortable.

  And I was drunk.

  “Hit this, bitch.” She pointed to the shot and clambered up onto the counter, far less than gracefully. I laughed, throwing my head back.

  “Okay, but after this I need a break.” I was only partially aware that I couldn’t speak coherently.

  “One, two … go!”

  This shot burned less than the one before it, even less than its eight or nine odd predecessors. I barely sucked the lemon over my numb lips.

  “K, k enough, enough.” I waved my arm wildly at her. My limbs didn’t seem to be connected to my body anymore. The room wavered dizzily. I grabbed a smoke and stumbled my way to the couch, flopping down heavily upon it.

  “You can’t hold your liquor.” Charlie accused. She laughed from her perch on top of the counter and poured herself another shot.

  “Can too.” I stared blurrily at the TV screen. Noise was definitely coming from the box but I couldn’t make out the picture. I lit my cigarette after a few unsuccessful tries and smoked quietly a moment, a bizarre perma-grin plastered to my face.

  “Wooooh!” Charlie exclaimed again. I heard the sound of glass striking the counter. I smiled, even though I was already smiling.

  “One day, maybe you’ll be able to out drink me … maybe ….” Charlie’s voice floated to me from somewhere, but I couldn’t really hear her anymore. I wasn’t paying attention. The room started to spin. My lips went numb. My mouth started to sweat.

  “Charlie ….” I groaned.

  “Oh, shit, here.” She ran to me at the same time that I pushed myself off the chair. Her hands grasped me around the waist and she ushered me towards the bathroom as quickly as possible, but I knew I wasn’t going to make it. Just as we reached the door, I fell to the ground and threw up all over myself. The smell was revolting.

  “Dammit, Mackenzie. Get up.” I felt Charlie yank me up to the toilet by my armpits, just in time for me to retch again. My entire body heaved. My nose burned. I could feel tears squeezing from my eyes.

  “There’s not much to clean up, it’s all over you.” She was saying. She undid my jeans and pulled them off, manipulating my slack arms to strip the shirt from me as well.

  “Damn, girl. When did you last eat something? It’s like, entirely clear.”

  “Dunno …,” I mumbled. I spit into the toilet and experimented with opening my eyes. The room had stopped spinning. The floor in the bathroom was cold; it felt nice. I blinked stupidly into the bowl for a minute, then lifted my head and rested it on the seat. Charlie flushed the toilet.

  “Better?” She asked, standing over me, grinning. She was holding my hair, smoothing it back with her hand.

  “I think so.” I nodded.

  “Can you get up?”

  “I’ll try.” Already I felt better. Less sick, but still drunk. Weakly I pushed myself up off the floor, using Charlie’s hands to help me.

  “Good?” She wondered, once I was standing. I nodded again.

  “Okay. Go to the kitchen and get some crackers or something to eat. I’ll go find you some clothes to wear and deal with … these …,” she held my soiled clothes far away from her body and made a face. I giggled.

  “Okay. Okay. Thanks Charlie … my love ….” I leaned against the wall for support, laughing, and made my way to the kitchen as she headed in the other direction. I felt great now, happy and less spinney.

  “One shot … hey! More tequila ….” I sang to myself, giggling as I opened and slammed Charlie’s cupboards, looking for crackers. “Two shots … hey, hey!” I did a little spin, grabbed a cigarette, lit it, and blew the smoke at the overhead light, still dancing. “Three shots, hey ….”

  Holy crap. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared, my jaw open in horror, my cheeks flaming a sudden, alarming red. I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I asked, my voice barely a squeak, full of embarrassment.

  “A few minutes.” Grey cleared his throat and smirked sexily at me. He had a large blue Tool hoodie on—it brought out the blue of his eyes. His hair was hidden beneath a black Spitfire hat. “Long enough to see the show. And you think I’m talented.”

  He was referring to my stupid little song and dance number. I put my head in my hands and laughed. “Well, we were doing tequila, and I just thought the song fit.”

  “Mackenzie?”

  “Yes?” I looked up at him, biting my lip. He stared at me, and I watched as his eyes traced over my figure, from my calves to my face, slowly, taking in every detail. The heat returned to my cheeks.

  “What?” I repeated. His glanced up at my eyes again, distracted from his study by the sound of my voice. Grey’s expression was hard to read, but his blue eyes seemed … soft somehow. Like he was thinking tender thoughts.

  “Um …,” he smiled at me again, and then pointed downwards, motioning for me to look at myself. I grimaced. Did I have a big patch of vomit on me somewhere? But I thought Charlie had said it was clear …?

  And then I realized. I gasped in renewed horror. Looking down, I had expected to see my shirt and jeans … but was greeted instead by the sight of my pink bra, the tight skin of my stomach, my belly button ring and my black VS boy shorts. I was in my bra and panties. I was in my underwear. In front of Grey. I looked up at him quickly in humiliation.

  His face comforted me though. Grey was staring at me with admiration. He smiled, and looked me over again. I didn’t know what to do; I was torn, wanting to both cover myself up but also wanting him to see. I hoped I looked okay. I hoped I looked skinny and pretty. I knew if I hadn’t been drunk, I’d never still be standing there in my underwear. I would’ve died of embarrassment by now.

  “I threw up …,” was my explanation. I shrugged, and smiled at him.

  “Thank goodness for that.” He grinned.

  “What are you … what are you doing here?” I wondered. “This was supposed to be girls only. Hence ….” I waved a hand over myself and the obvious lack of clothing.

  “This is what girls do at sleepovers?” he smirked again, “I’m getting invited to the next one.” I giggled with him. “No. I don’t know. Zack told me to meet him here after practice. He just had to go pick up some shit. Oh, wait.” He turned and looked out the window at the headlights that shone up suddenly. “Here they are now. Take this.”

  Quickly Grey unzipped his hoodie, revealing a plain white tee underneath, and stepped over to me. I prayed I didn’t smell like tequila vomit. He held up the sweater and I turned to shove my arms through the sleeves, my skin tingling at the proximity of his body to my bare flesh. I turned around again and he slowly zipped the sweater up, his fingertips brushing me lightly as he did so, sending shivers through me. My body sang at his touch, however slight. I somehow found the courage to meet his eyes. We stood so close … the air between us was charged, thick almost. I swallowed and parted my lips ….

  “Oh yeah, man. That was awesome. We’re going to kick ass tom
orrow.” The front door slammed. We were jarred out of our moment. I stepped back from Grey and leaned behind the island for added modesty as Zack and Alex barged through the door. I took a deep, steadying breath. My cheeks were still flushed. I hoped Alex and Zack wouldn’t notice.

  Grey’s hoodie smelt amazing. I took the opportunity while the guys greeted each other to bury my nose in the soft, warm fabric that had rested near his neck. It was warm, sweet but masculine, with the hint of cigarette smoke. I breathed deep.

  “What is going on out here?” Charlie emerged into the living area, her hands on her hips, though a smile played on her lips. She laughed as Zack kissed her quickly. “I thought I told you we were having a girls night.”

  “Oh, yeah. We vetoed that.” Zack grinned and placed a box of beer on the counter. The bottles clinked together.

  “Hey Mac. Nice outfit.” Alex winked at me, passing by on his way to the fridge.

  “Thanks. I threw up.” I mumbled in embarrassment.

  “No, thank you. For the update.” He laughed, tossing a lank of browny-blonde hair from his eyes. “I recognize the sweater.”

  “Looks good on her, don’t you think?” Grey asked. He was alarmingly close again, standing just behind me. His hand trailed lightly down my arm. “Looks better off.” He said quietly, for my ears only, I’m sure. I smiled.

  “Mackenzie, what are you wearing?” Charlie shook her head at me. “I laid out some clothes for you in the bedroom.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I hurried quickly out of the room.

  “Yeah, thanks Charlie.” Grey repeated. But his tone was sarcastic.

  I took one last look in the mirror. Charlie had leant me a snug, long sleeved black t-shirt and some jeans. The pants were a little long, but I looked pretty good.

  “Are the clothes okay? I thought they were a little more your style.” Charlie stood behind me, handing me a cigarette. I took a drag.