by Chloe Rayban
‘Oh look — there was no need, honestly.’ Michelle unwrapped it and then made noises as if bubble bath was something she’d been wanting all her life. I’d given her my present earlier — quite a cool kind of necklace with a hologram pendant, which she was wearing now.
It was a pretty ghastly party. The boys were mainly friends of her brother, who was a year younger than us, and we towered over them. Every time we turned the music up loud enough to dance to, Michelle’s next door neighbours hammered on the wall.
The boys kept on going out through the front door in spite of the cold, I guessed to smoke cigarettes outside. But as one of them came back in, I noticed he was carrying a bottle. He sidled over to the punch, and then came back and said something to one of the other boys and nudged him. He’d poured the contents of the bottle into the punch. I was sure.
Rosie came over with a full glass.
‘I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,’ I said. ‘Looked to me as if that boy poured a whole bottle of vodka in.’
‘Rubbish, taste it. It’s virtually all orange juice.’
I tasted her glass and gasped. ‘It is Rosie. It’s really strong.’
‘Oh stop being such a drip, Tash. Loosen up, can’t you?’
‘You’re crazy, Rosie.’
I stuck to Coke after that and danced for a bit, trying to keep an eye on her. Rosie was fooling around with the boys, although they were much younger. She kept going outside to smoke with them.
After about an hour, I saw her standing in the doorway, beckoning to me. She led me upstairs to Michelle’s bathroom and locked the door behind us.
‘Look I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to explode from boredom!’
I looked at her doubtfully. ‘How much of that punch have you drunk, precisely?’
‘Practically none! Let’s get going.’
‘But we can’t just leave.’
‘Yes we can. We’ll get changed and call a cab.’
‘But it’s far too early to go to the club. Where shall we go?’
‘Anywhere. We can go to a pub or something.’
‘Rosie. We’re under age.’
‘Not when we’re dressed up we’re not,’ said Rosie with determination. She swayed a bit as she made for the door.
‘I’m not so sure about this.’
‘Look, Natasha Campbell — if you go back on this now, I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live. Wait here and don’t let anyone in.’
Rosie left me in the bathroom and I locked the door behind her.
Michelle’s bathroom was all pink with flowered wallpaper and curtains and a thick cushy carpet and big soft fluffy mats on top of that. It had a seat with a frilled cover placed in front of a three-piece mirror. The three-piece mirror cast its reflection back at me, three of me — enshrined in all this pink flowered respectability. I shuddered. Mr and Mrs Levy would be back any minute. They’d be bound to find out about the punch. Maybe Rosie was right, we definitely ought to make a move.
Within minutes Rosie returned with our bags.
‘Right. I told Michelle you’re feeling a bit off and I’ve called a cab. So hurry!’
I dragged the dress out of my back-pack. It was a bit creased but I reckoned the creases would fall out once it was on. Rosie was already undressed and had started wriggling into her turquoise outfit.
The laces of my dress had got into knots. Probably Gemma’s fault — I could kill that child. I’d slipped the dress on and Rosie was sorting them out when there was a gentle knocking on the bathroom door.
‘You all right dear?’ It was Michelle’s mums voice.
I was half-in and half-out of my dress.
‘Umm, thanks Mrs Levy, I’ll be fine in a minute.’
‘I do hope it wasn’t anything in the punch,’ she was saying.
‘Whoops!’ whispered Rosie.
‘A taxi’s arrived for you. But Frank could easily drive you home.’
‘No, I’m fine really. Please could you tell the cab we’ll be right down?’
We finished dressing like lightning. Rosie got in a tangle with my laces and the dress felt a bit odd, but it was on at any rate. I shoved my sandals on my feet and then we shot down the stairs.
‘If you’re sure you’re all …’ Michelle’s mum caught sight of my dress ‘ … you’re all right,’ she said doubtfully.
Rosie was shoving her coat on and threw mine around my shoulders.
‘She’ll be fine Mrs Levy, I’ll keep an eye on her. Thank you so much for the party we’ve had a wonderful time.’
‘Such a pity you’ll miss the cake,’ she said distractedly.
Michelle was just coming out of the kitchen carrying it. A big sickly pink and white iced cake with two cuddling teddy bears on top and fifteen candles alight all around — ghastly!
‘Oh, you’re not going are you?’ she said.
‘I know, I’m so sorry,’ I said.
‘I don’t think Tasha could face cake right now,’ said Rosie.
‘Poor thing,’ said Mrs Levy.
We backed out of the front door, smothering our giggles as we did so, and climbed into the cab.
Rosie was in high spirits in the taxi. I don’t know what the cab driver thought. She and I had a bit of an argument about where to go but ended up agreeing to drive to the club.
The taxi driver drew up to the kerb in a desolate looking area. I stared out of the window, taking stock of the surroundings. It was a run-down high street, the shops were mainly boarded up and there were newspapers blowing about in the road. It was really sordid.
‘There it is,’ whispered Rosie. She’d spotted a sign saying The Institution’ but there wasn’t anyone waiting outside.
‘I think it’s closed. Lets go home,’ I whispered.
‘Don’t be daft. Its too early, that’s all. We can wait in that pub over there.’
Rosie got out her purse and paid the driver.
‘You girls going to be all right? Someone meeting you?’
‘Yes, fine,’ said Rosie. ‘My auntie lives over that pub.’ The lie came out just pat.
‘That’s all right then. I’ll wait while you go inside.’
The pub was called The Pearly Queen and a smell of sour beer came wafting out of the entrance. But Rosie just strode in bold as anything, then leaned back through the door and waved to the cab driver.
He gave us the thumbs up and then drove off. I watched the taxi disappear with a sinking heart.
Rosie nudged me. ‘Look confident for God’s sake or we’ll get thrown out.’
I followed her over to the bar.
‘What are you having?’ she asked.
I looked at the row of upturned bottles. I hadn’t even heard of half the things inside.
‘I’ll have a Coca-Cola,’ I said.
‘And a Bacardi and Coke,’ said Rosie.
I stared at her and she frowned back.
We took our drinks and went to sit down.
‘I’m not going to drink it, silly. But they’d suss us if we didn’t order something stronger than Coca-Cola.’
I felt really uncomfortable. The pub was full of old men sitting in their overcoats with pints of beer in front of them. As for a wild night out, I’d been having more fun at Michelle’s party.
At about ten to eleven some younger people started to wander in. There were two long-haired boys in leather jackets who gave Rosie and myself the once-over and then went to stand at the bar.
‘This is more like it,’ said Rosie. ‘D’you want another drink?’
‘I’ll get them this time,’ I said. I noticed Rosie had drunk hers in spite of what she’d said. I was getting really worried about her. I’d never seen her behaving like this before.
I got us two Cokes and found Rosie had got into eye-contact with one of the leather-clad boys.
‘It’s cool,’ said Rosie. Those guys over there keep looking over here.’
They seemed a lot older than us — I didn’t like the look of them.
‘Look, let’s go to the club,’ I whispered to Rosie. ‘It must be open by now.’
‘You’re being really boring, you know that, don’t you,’ said Rosie crossly.
I was tempted to say, ‘So are you.’ But I restrained myself. Rosie could be pretty hard to handle at the best of times. I went to the pub door and glanced out. A queue had already started to build up outside the club.
‘They’re queueing already. Maybe we better join them,’ I said.
‘I don’t want to stand out in the cold. Look, if you’re so worried, you queue and then I’ll join you,’ said Rosie.
‘But …’ I said.
‘Oh for God’s sake Tasha. Get on out there and keep our places or we may not get in.’
I was sick of sitting in the smelly pub. The cigarette smoke was really getting to me. If I stayed in there any longer I knew Mum would be able to smell it on my clothes.
‘OK. Don’t be long. And don’t drink any more, Rosie …’
Rosie made a face at me. Frankly, I’d had enough of her behaviour so I made my way across the street and joined the queue.
I waited for about half an hour and they still hadn’t opened the doors. I was dead worried about what Rosie was up to, but I didn’t dare leave my place in the queue. The people behind me didn’t look like the types you could ask to save a place and I knew Rosie would go mental if we didn’t get in.
At last, to my relief I saw the pub door open and Rosie stride out. But right behind her were the two guys with long hair.
‘Clive and Rob,’ said Rosie by way of introduction. Thanks for keeping our places for us.’
The three of them elbowed their way into the queue, much to the disgust of the people behind. But the queue was moving by now and before very long we were through the door and being subjected to a body-search from the bouncers.
Once we’d checked in our coats, Rosie immediately made a dive for the loos saying, ‘Now for the transformation!’
‘Why did you have to bring those blokes along?’ I asked.
‘They’re OK. They’re quite nice really. Better than being on our own, anyway.’
‘I don’t think it is.’
‘Oh come on Tasha! We’re meant to be having a good time, remember?’
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t look as if I was having a good time. I looked dreadful actually. The dress kept on slipping and hanging in an odd lopsided way.
‘I think something’s gone wrong with the lacing,’ I said.
But Rosie wasn’t any help, she was too busy doing her make-up.
I gave the dress a hitch and started to brush my hair. Rosie was leaning into the mirror working on her eyes, adding a thick and rather wobbly line of black eyeliner.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Have a go with this. You really have to compensate for those lights.’
Under her direction I added eyeliner and lashings of mascara. Then she passed me her lipstick.
That’s really dark. I never wear that colour.’
‘Do you want to look totally washed out?’
She was right, I supposed. Beside her I did look pretty understated. I thought of Matt’s girlfriend. She was really dramatic-looking. I’d have to try a bit harder if I was going to compete with her.
Girls were now pushing in through the door and the place was getting really crowded, so we forced our way back into the club.
By the light of the strobes, the first people were starting to dance. I danced with Rosie, feeling pretty self-conscious. I couldn’t help noticing that nobody else had dressed up like us. Most of the girls were wearing worn-out looking jeans or flares and skinny T-shirts. They didn’t look as if they had make-up on at all. I had a horrible suspicion that we’d rather overdone it.
‘Look, there are Rob and Clive,’ said Rosie.
I cast a glance over my shoulder. They were coming in our direction.
‘Let’s pretend we haven’t seen them,’ I said.
But she was already grinning at them and they came over and started dancing right beside us.
The evening was turning into a total disaster. We hadn’t seen Matt yet — we hadn’t even seen Brillo. I wondered with a sinking feeling whether they were actually going to turn up.
The music had switched to extreme Drum ‘n’ Bass — really difficult to dance to. So when Clive offered to buy us a drink, Rosie accepted. That’s how we got stuck with them. They were complete losers. Both Clive and Rob had come from out of town and had never been to the club before. In fact, they’d probably never been to any club by the look of them.
I was relieved to find that the bar only sold soft drinks. But Rob got really annoyed about it — he said he was going to find something stronger and shouldered his way out through the dancers.
My attention was caught by a movement in the crowd. The DJ had arrived and was climbing into his booth. I stared hard. It didn’t look like Brillo’s brother. It looked like someone much more familiar. The lights caught on his shaggy sun-bleached hair. I was sure now, it couldn’t be anyone else. It was — it was Matt. But what was he doing DJ-ing?
He put his first track on and the club seemed to explode into life. Suddenly everyone was dancing. The place had filled up and I was surrounded by the coolest-looking people you could imagine — everyone, that is, except Clive. I made a big effort to move off on my own and actually managed to lose him.
I kept well away from the others. It was getting hotter and hotter and people were spraying water over each other. Now I realised why so few girls were wearing make-up. I just prayed Rosie’s mascara was waterproof.
Matt did a mix and there was a little burst of applause. People were blowing whistles and waving their arms in the air. The place was really starting to buzz. I was dancing on my own when Brillo emerged through the crowd.
‘Hi,’ he said, took one look at my dress, raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘You made it!’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Cool outfit. What you into — bondage?’
I ignored this comment.
‘What happened to your brother? Thought he was the DJ here.’
‘Got called away. Something urgent. What’s happened to your friend? Where’s she?’
‘She’s over there somewhere, I think.’ I prayed Rosie would manage to shake off Clive and Rob before he found her.
I was kind of reassured when he started dancing with me. Maybe I didn’t look such a freak after all. He was a really good dancer, actually, but he did tend to crowd me in. I kept backing away. I was beginning to feel that he was doing it on purpose. I kept trying to manoeuvre out of his way, but Brillo seemed intent on moving in on me.
I was in a tricky position. I wanted to show Matt that I wasn’t totally on my own. But I didn’t want to encourage Brillo too much.
‘Maybe we should go and say ‘Hi’ to Matt,’ I suggested.
‘Oh, He’s busy. Wouldn’t want to distract him. He’s — like — got to concentrate,’ he said.
I craned over towards the DJ’s booth, trying to see if he’d noticed me. Matt had one headphone on and the other off. He was staring hard at his decks, an expression of deepest concentration on his face.
We danced for what seemed like an age. I kept looking over and catching Matt frowning at Brillo for some reason. He was obviously trying to attract his attention, seemed really uptight about something.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked Brillo.
‘Search me,’ he said.
‘He keeps on looking over. Think he wants you for something.’
‘Nah, take no notice,’ said Brillo.
Brillo was trying to slow dance now and it wasn’t even a slow dance number. I eased myself away.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked.
‘Too hot …’ I said, fanning myself with a hand.
‘You want to sit one out? Like a drink?’ asked Brillo.
Anything to keep him at arm’s length, so I accepted.
Brillo bought us tw
o juices and led me off into a side room where they were showing a video on a huge screen. It was an old black-and-white Hollywood movie but they had the sound turned down and no-one seemed to be watching it much. In fact, most of the people in the room were more interested in each other. The couple nearest us were involved in a marathon clinch. This was not a good move.
Brillo had settled down on the floor and was patting a space beside him. I sat down and drank my juice in three gulps.
‘That’s better,’ I said getting to my feet. ‘I really ought to try and find Rosie.’
‘Looked fine when I last saw her. With two blokes,’ said Brillo. ‘She looked so she was having a real good time.’
‘She did?’ I suddenly started to feel panicky. ‘I think I’d better find her.’
We didn’t even know those guys.
Chapter Seventeen
I made my way back into the room where I’d left Rosie. The place had really come alive. I couldn’t see her, but everyone else was leaping about and blowing whistles and pouring water over each other. Their enthusiasm was infectious — I started dancing too, I couldn’t help myself. I was really getting into it when something odd happened to the music. Sounded like two records playing but out of time with each other. What was Matt doing? I stared through the crowd at the DJ’s booth — but he wasn’t there.
There was a knot of people not dancing but standing still around the booth. It looked as if someone had fallen on to the floor.
I caught a glimpse of turquoise through the crowd.
‘What’s going on?’ I demanded from a guy heading towards me. My mouth was going dry with panic.
‘Some girl’s passed out or something …’ he said. ‘It’s OK, someone’s looking after her. Its sorted.’
I made my way over. My legs suddenly felt as if they’d turned to lead. And in the light of the strobes I seemed to be moving in slow motion.
I had this horrible premonition. ‘Sorted’ like Leah Betts, the girl who’d died, the one who’d been on all the posters. That picture of her flashed into my brain. It couldn’t … it couldn’t happen to Rosie …
I moved forward as if half-paralysed. I was pushing my way against people, people who were in the way.