Life of the Party

by Christine Anderson

  “Five.” The crowd cheered.

  “Five.” They cheered again for Charlie. There didn’t seem to be a favourite, as long as one of us was shooting back alcohol. I giggled and filled up the shots again, the bottle shaking in my unsteady hand.

  “Six.”

  “Six.”

  Grey joined us then, in the now crowded kitchen. He came and stood behind me, resting his arm lazily around my shoulders. His touch was lingering, sending delicious shivers through me. The booze was starting to hit me and I stared up at him, drunk and smiling. He looked at me a moment and his beautiful blue eyes seemed pleased. He bent down and kissed me. The crowd cheered as he did so, and I was smiling gloriously as I took my next shot.

  “Seven.”

  “Seven.” Charlie wasn’t backing down. She was talking and laughing and joking but could barely keep her eyes open, she was so drunk. She poured us the next shot, spilling whiskey all over the table as she did so.

  “Eight.”

  “Eight.” She hiccupped. I lit a cigarette, and my lips were numb as I blew the smoke out.

  “Nine.”

  “Nine.”

  I knew I couldn’t keep this up much longer, but I had to outlast Charlie. I stamped my smoke out in the ashtray and poured our next shot, since she didn’t seem capable of doing it anymore. I swear she was asleep sitting up. Nearly everyone was in the kitchen, pressing in, loud and rowdy around us. Bets were changing rapidly as our motor skills deteriorated. I sat back a moment, a crazy perma-smile on my face. I just couldn’t stop grinning.

  “Go for ten.” Grey whispered in my ear. “Come on, you got this.”

  Still smiling, I flipped back the shot and swallowed, gulping the strong, burning whiskey. I set the glass down and knew that I was done.

  “Ten.” My arms were heavy and my vision blurred. I stared across at Charlie as best I could and wondered what she would do.

  Everyone was champing her name. Charlie was totally dishevelled, red-eyed and bleary, but still managed to look beautiful. She rested her head weakly on her hand, smiled a moment, and then slumped over. Zack caught her before she fell, but Charlie was definitely out. I had won.

  “Winner!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. “Wooooooohhh! Winner!” Everyone was cheering for me. People were high-fiving me like crazy. I laughed and smiled and cheered along with them.

  And then I fell off my chair.

  One second I was upright and the next I had fallen. What happened in between there, I can’t recall. Everything went black for a moment and then I was on the floor, face down in a pile of laughter, and there was a second of stunned silence while everyone waited to see if I was okay.

  “Hey, you all right?” Grey bent over me carefully.

  “Winner!” I exclaimed again, this time from my position on the floor. “Winner!”

  Cheering and laughter erupted from around the room. I joined in, giggling like crazy. Grey was smiling, his blue eyes twinkling as he picked me up off the linoleum.

  “Come on, winner.” He cradled me in his arms. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  People were still giving me high-fives as Grey carried me out of the kitchen and down the hallway where it was quiet, away from the party.

  “Did you hit your head?” He wondered, opening a door and flicking the light on.

  “I don’t think sooo.” I sang. He chuckled and set me down. I nearly fell over, grasping the wall for support.

  “Let’s get these shoes off.” Gently he lifted up my knees and pulled off my pumps, one at a time. “That should help your balance a bit, if anything will.”

  The difference in my height was staggering without my shoes on, and my feet felt strange flat on the floor after being arched all day long.

  “Wait, Grey, is this your bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow.” I looked around in awe. His walls were covered in posters; all of them were rock bands, most of them I had never heard of. Bands like Dream Theatre and Smile Empty Soul, Sepultura and Rage against the Machine. There were many Tool posters, which I recognized, and Metallica and System of a Down and Sevendust and countless others I didn’t know.

  His room was fairly neat, cleaner than mine at home—his closet doors actually shut. A queen-size, unmade bed sat beneath a large, coverless window looking out into the backyard. I could see the stars through it, twinkling in the night sky. Music equipment, amps and cords and who knows what else were stacked up neatly along the wall. A large desk sat along the back, piled with paper and notebooks and loose-leaf pages, all covered in writing by Grey’s inky scrawl. An acoustic guitar sat in its stand by the bed.

  “Wow. You can tell a lot about a person from their room, you know.” I walked slowly, swaying across the soft blue carpet to sit on the edge of Grey’s bed.

  “And what does my room tell you?” He wondered.

  “Um … I’d say that … you love music. That’s pretty obvious.”

  “True.”

  “And … from the posters, I’d say that you’re a fan of the metal.”

  “Also true. But classic rock is still sweet.”

  “Yeah.” I agreed. My hazy gaze came to rest on the acoustic guitar. “Will you play me something?” I wondered suddenly.

  “If you want.” Grey shrugged complacently. He picked up the instrument and placed the strap over his shoulders, then sat back down on the bed with it. “What do you want me to play?” He asked, strumming idly, waiting for me to answer.

  I drew a complete blank. I loved music of every kind, so long as it was passionate, but for some reason at that moment I couldn’t think of a single song. I laughed and shook my head.

  “Okay, then, how about this one.” Grey bent over the guitar and began to play. He was impressive. I watched him intently—the way his hands seemed to dance over the strings; I was amazed at how quickly they moved. He didn’t even need to look down.

  I recognized the song almost immediately. It was Good Riddance, by Green Day. My grad song. I watched as Grey strummed the rhythm, his fingers deftly changing chords and picking the notes, playing the sweet, slow melody perfectly. I sat back on the bed, pulled my knees up to my chest and listened.

  The song was sweetly sad, like graduating was supposed to be … but the haunting, reminiscent notes that came from the guitar made me feel hollow inside, totally lonely. It made me see how much I missed Riley, made me realize how much I was going to miss him. How a huge part of my life just wasn’t there anymore.

  At the very thought of his name, memories of Riley flooded my mind, like my life was flashing before my eyes, like in a car crash or something.

  I saw Riley and me when we first met, when he had been shy and reserved, and I had grabbed his hand and forced him to come and play with me. The third grade when I had peed my pants and Riley leant me his gym shorts so no one would know. Climbing the big hill in our neighbourhood and eating plums at the top. Countless birthdays and Christmases and presents he’d given me. Getting his car stuck in the ditch a few winters ago, when he’d let me sit in the warm car while he shovelled and pushed us out. The hundreds of times we’d gotten wasted together. I remembered it all, just then, as the lyrics to the Green Day song played dimly in my mind.

  “It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right.

  I hope you had the time of your life.”

  “Hey, Mackenzie, you okay?” Abruptly Grey stopped playing and he looked up at me with concern.

  “What, yeah, I’m okay.” It was hard to talk.

  “You’re crying.” He took the guitar off and placed it back in its stand. I wiped the tears from my eyes; I hadn’t even realized they were there.

  “Come here.” Grey pulled me to him, wrapping his strong arm around my back and cradling me against his chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. That was beautiful … you play amazing.” I sniffled. I hated that I was letting Riley ruin our time together. “It’s stupid, I’m just … drunk. I’m sorry, Gre
y. Just forget about it.”

  His blue eyes were pensive for a moment, and then a sudden thought occurred to him. “You’re thinking about Riley, aren’t you?”

  My silence was the same as a yes. Grey sighed heavily.

  “Mackenzie … are you in love with this guy or something?”

  “What? No.” I sat up in earnest. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  Grey shrugged. “You spend a lot of time being upset over him.”

  “I’m not upset over him, I just … he’s like my brother, you know? And I’m, I’m drunk and that song made me nostalgic and ….” I looked up at him. “I’m really sorry, Grey, honestly, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

  “I’m not jealous.” He shook his head. “It’s just … it’s pretty obvious.”

  “Oh, Grey, no.” I sat up on my knees and grasped his hands, looked up into his face, imploring him. “Please, don’t think that way. You’re on my mind, like, all the time. Riley’s just my friend, I mean, he’s not even my friend anymore, really ….” I shook my head, angry at myself for letting this happen. Furiously I pushed any feelings and all thoughts and images of Riley from my mind, determined not to let them surface again, ever. We were over; we were done. I wouldn’t let his very memory ruin things for me. I promised myself that I would never agonize over Riley McIntyre ever again.

  Ever.

  “Grey.” I looked up into his deep blue eyes, into his perfect, tan face, darkened by just a hint of stubble. His lips were hard as he looked down at me, his face tense. I knew what I had to tell him, but the dim memory of how this information had last been received made me hesitate a moment. I shook the unpleasant image from my mind and took a deep breath, working up the courage.

  “You don’t have to worry, Grey, at all. Because I love you. You.”

  Inwardly, I braced myself for rejection. Outwardly, I was calm and hopeful, waiting for his reaction. I watched as Grey softened at my words, watched his jaw relax and his lips curve into a smile. He looked me over warmly for a moment.

  “You’re a bit dramatic, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

  “Why does everyone always say that—?”

  My words were cut off then as he, smiling, swept me up in a kiss.

  CHAPTER 29

  I moved into Charlie’s house on a Friday. Mom and Dad came to help, but I really didn’t have much stuff—just my bed and my dresser and a few suitcases of clothes, a box of pots and pans and a set of dishes I was given for graduation. Dad put my bed frame together in Katrina’s old room for me. We could hear him grumbling as Mom and I put my dishes away.

  Charlie and I snuck excited smiles at each other, neither of us could wait for my parents to leave so we could get good and high. Mom didn’t like the place, I could tell, but at least she approved of Charlie. From the look of her she was a sweet, well-dressed, pretty young lady, very proper; of course mom would like her. She never would have guessed that Charlie was my biggest source of illicit fun.

  Finally everything was unpacked. My dad looked fairly unaffected but I could tell my mom was stalling, putting off saying goodbye to me for as long as she could. For the last week or so I think she’d been in denial that I was actually moving out. Amidst all my packing and planning, maybe she thought I’d change my mind. But I would never stay at home now, not when I’d realized how awesome it’d be on my own. Even if my parents renounced all their rules and their Nazi-ness, which they hadn’t, I wouldn’t even consider it.

  My ultimate, total freedom was just minutes away from fruition. Mom was cleaning everything she could get her hands on in an attempt to prolong the inevitable goodbye, and I could tell my dad was getting impatient. The entire house was sparkling by the time they finally gathered their things to go.

  Dad gave me a pat goodbye and his face was smug, like he expected me to come crawling back home once I discovered how tough it really was out on my own. I kissed his cheek, smirking to myself. I’d show him.

  Mom had a tough time leaving. She wrung her hands, her expression pained.

  “You be sure to call us, if you need anything.”

  “I’ll call.” I nodded.

  “You can come home, you know, if you change your mind.”

  “Mom, I’m only ten minutes away.” It was hard not to roll my eyes.

  “I know, but it’s not the same.” She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing, and then pulled me into a sudden, fierce hug. “I can’t believe I’m an empty-nester. It’ll be so lonely at home without you there.”

  I grimaced. Welcome to the last two years of my life, I wanted to say. But when Mom pulled away from me, there were actual tears swimming in her sad eyes, so I bit my tongue and just smiled sympathetically instead.

  “You remember the deal, right? You have to come home on Sundays for dinner.”

  I sighed. How I had ever agreed to that little clause was unbelievable. Mom must have cornered me at an especially weak moment or something. She’d been so nice to me all last week and when she asked me to come home every Sunday for supper, I just … gave in. I still don’t know why. Dinner with Marcy and Greg was probably my most hated event of the whole week. I’d rather clean the men’s bathroom at the Red Wheat than sit across the table from those two. But for some reason I had agreed to it, and from the look on Mom’s face now, she’d be crushed if I didn’t show.

  “Yes, alright mom. I’ll be there.” I was getting impatient. All I wanted to do was get high and I hadn’t realized my parents would be hanging around for so long. I thought it’d be more of a drop off my stuff and leave kind of thing, but they’d been there for hours now, sharpening my craving for cocaine by the long, drawn out anticipation.

  “Come on, Deb.” Dad nearly growled. “I’ve got to pack for tomorrow yet.”

  “Okay, Mitch. Okay.” Mom sighed and nodded. “Goodbye Mackenzie.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t.” I managed a tight smile. “I’ll see you in two days, Mom.”

  “Right. Bye, honey.”

  “Bye.” Eagerly I shut the door behind them and leaned against it for a moment. I sighed in relief. “Finally. I didn’t think they’d ever leave.”

  “You’re so dramatic. They’re not that bad and they didn’t stay that long.” Charlie argued with a grin. She was already cutting up the coke for us. I listened as my parents’ car pulled out from the curb and then drove on down the street. They were gone. Finally, we were alone. I was free.

  I felt so light-hearted I was nearly giddy. I could do anything, everything I had ever wanted to do. I could go anywhere. I could stay up as late as I wanted. I could smoke in my house. I could do copious amounts of totally illegal drugs and there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

  I giggled and lit a cigarette, then sniffed back a hard line, just to prove my point.

  Charlie and I hung out by ourselves for a while, celebrating the start of our new beginning and the best summer ever. We got majorly high on cocaine. I loved that I didn’t have to worry about trying to find a ride home and acting half-ass sober when I got there. I was home. I could get as wrecked as I possibly wanted and just head down the hallway to bed. This was freedom. Sheer, complete, irresponsibility.

  The guys came over to help us celebrate. We drank and got high and partied late into the night. When finally I fell onto my bed, drunk and sleepy, I stared out at the dark, still night sky through my bedroom window. My life was really beginning, I could feel it. I grinned at the moon, white amidst the silver clouds. The stars were twinkling in the sky, the country lights bright and pretty on the horizon. The whole world spread out before me, and I could experience all its secrets now, everything it had been hiding, all the wonder it had been keeping from me. No longer would I be sheltered from what was out there.

  I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  CHAPTER 30

  I could hear them giggling on the other side of the door. Quickly and as silently as I could, I sniffed the coke up m
y nose and pinched my nostrils together. I stood a minute, motionless as the drugs hit my veins and spread throughout my system. Relief hit me and I let out a heavy, shaky breath.

  “Mackenzie, I need the bathroom.” Marcy knocked curtly on the door.

  “Yep. Be right out.” I shoved the drugs back into my purse and wiped at my nose, checking quickly in the mirror to make sure there was no evidence left. I opened the door and smiled at my sister as I passed by—much calmer now, much more in control of myself. She didn’t look my way even once.

  Marcy’s wedding was in three weeks and we were at the dress shop for the final fittings of the wedding gown and our bridesmaids dresses. I could not imagine a more vivid portrayal of my personal hell on earth. Marcy’s two snobby friends, Whitney and Marie—A.K.A the maid of honour and the other bridesmaid—were sipping champagne from their flutes, talking in hushed tones with their arms crossed and glancing my way every now and again. It was obvious they were talking about me, but I didn’t care. They were both in college, so I think that made them feel horribly smart and very above me, especially given my current condition.

  Of the two bridesmaids, I liked Marie best. Whitney was the prettier one and had obviously been uber popular in high school, as she still liked to act superior to everyone even though she had gained noticeable weight over the years. She was tall with long blonde hair and hazel eyes; she had a really pretty face. Marie was plainer, but she had a better personality, more humour. She could have been really pretty if she tried a bit more, like if she dyed her mousy brown hair and maybe waxed the uni-brow. She was thinner than Whitney, though shorter, and this seemed to put the two girls on even turf.

  And they were both looking at me now like I was someone to be pitied.

  I ignored them as best I could from where I sat slumped over silently in my chair, horribly sleep deprived and somewhere in between hung over and still drunk. I whiled away the unfortunate time lost in my own meandering thought, impatient for the day to be over so I could go back home and pick up where I left off the night before. My friends would already be partying, and I hated missing out.