he feels against me.
Just as I’m getting cosy, he leaps to his feet, taking me with him. “Let’s check out the deal in the ring of fire over there.” He gestures to the flickering flames, the faraway stars. I jog after him.
At the circle, candles scatter intermittent light onto the group. Fragmented by the flickering light, their faces are broken jigsaws I put together in my head.
My blood is on fire. Not in an angry red-hot way, but happy, up. I settle on a patch of lawn. It feels damp, but that’s OK. Everything is OK. I’m here with Finn, at a party, smoking and enjoying a few tinnies. Everything is
definitely
OK. I turn to the girl next to me, Georgia with the mess of curls. She’s smiling and cool, wearing a leopard-print top, black leggings and a thick slick of red lipstick. “Hey, what’s up?” she asks.
I say, “Hey. Nothing’s up, it’s all good. What’s up with you?” Georgia says it’s all good with her. She comes at me then, right in my face, invading my personal space.
“How
you
doing tonight?” I feel like I’m missing a trick, like I’m the last to get the obvious joke. Or maybe I’m just paranoid, like Slinky… I’ve had a few big tokes. Seems like she means doing something other than sitting in this circle of light. Something other than weed and booze.
“Um… Just…” I’m doing … nothing… What does she want me to say? “I’m OK, thanks,” I say. Georgia looks taken aback, like I’m weird. Like I’m a total dullard.
I feel so good just being here, but … I’m missing something, something these guys are looking for. Maybe I can do something else … but what else is there…? I’m a cute bunny rabbit who’s wandered into the lion’s den. More alcohol.
I need more alcohol.
The beer says anything’s a good idea right now. My head says I have an assignment due in on Monday, and this isn’t the time for that. Or is it? My name is Carla Indecisive Carroll and I’m a non-commitalist. Whatever.
Georgia is already pretty pissed. She’s got my arm in a lock like a woodwork vice and starts to chisel away at me.
Where you from? Do you know this song? What’s your middle name? What you studying? What, what, what, what, what, what, what you doing here then? Did you come with Finn?
Jesus, she’s the fucking Riddler. It’s like being in a hit-and-run with a question truck. A tanker has crashed, spilling questions all over me, so many weighing me down I don’t know which to answer first, but… As her eyes dart about, and her mind jumps from subject to subject, I realize she doesn’t really want answers at all.
“Have you met my boyfriend, Greg?” She points to Greg, who nods and raises a hand in acknowledgement.
“Yeah. At the boarding comp, and he’s in my Biology class.” I shoehorn in an answer. She tosses her hair.
“Do you like this bracelet?” She jangles a silver chain with red and blue gemstones in my face. “Where’s your T-shirt from? Is it Topshop? I saw a really cute top there yesterday.”
Before I’ve even half thought what to say she’s rammed another question into my ear. Strange. I don’t think she means to offend. She’s just chatty, in the mood. Happy to talk, but not to hear. I’m envious. I’m too polite not to listen. I wish I was too confident to care.
“Ohmygod, I
love
this song!” Georgia blurts to no one in particular. She jumps up, nodding and swinging her arms, and starts dancing. On her own. Right there in the middle of the ring of fire. But what happens next takes me by surprise. She just smiles at everyone, her candle-lit grin stretching in a dark half-moon across her face. And that does it. We all get up and dance with her. Like, crazy movements. Dad would call it throwing some shapes. It’s magic, awesome. And I think, hell yeah! HELL YEAH!
I get a good look at the others. Greg, tall with blond hair, dancing close to Georgia: he has really white trainers. He whispers something to Isaac, who’s come down the
Just as I’m getting cosy, he leaps to his feet, taking me with him. “Let’s check out the deal in the ring of fire over there.” He gestures to the flickering flames, the faraway stars. I jog after him.
At the circle, candles scatter intermittent light onto the group. Fragmented by the flickering light, their faces are broken jigsaws I put together in my head.
My blood is on fire. Not in an angry red-hot way, but happy, up. I settle on a patch of lawn. It feels damp, but that’s OK. Everything is OK. I’m here with Finn, at a party, smoking and enjoying a few tinnies. Everything is
definitely
OK. I turn to the girl next to me, Georgia with the mess of curls. She’s smiling and cool, wearing a leopard-print top, black leggings and a thick slick of red lipstick. “Hey, what’s up?” she asks.
I say, “Hey. Nothing’s up, it’s all good. What’s up with you?” Georgia says it’s all good with her. She comes at me then, right in my face, invading my personal space.
“How
you
doing tonight?” I feel like I’m missing a trick, like I’m the last to get the obvious joke. Or maybe I’m just paranoid, like Slinky… I’ve had a few big tokes. Seems like she means doing something other than sitting in this circle of light. Something other than weed and booze.
“Um… Just…” I’m doing … nothing… What does she want me to say? “I’m OK, thanks,” I say. Georgia looks taken aback, like I’m weird. Like I’m a total dullard.
I feel so good just being here, but … I’m missing something, something these guys are looking for. Maybe I can do something else … but what else is there…? I’m a cute bunny rabbit who’s wandered into the lion’s den. More alcohol.
I need more alcohol.
The beer says anything’s a good idea right now. My head says I have an assignment due in on Monday, and this isn’t the time for that. Or is it? My name is Carla Indecisive Carroll and I’m a non-commitalist. Whatever.
Georgia is already pretty pissed. She’s got my arm in a lock like a woodwork vice and starts to chisel away at me.
Where you from? Do you know this song? What’s your middle name? What you studying? What, what, what, what, what, what, what you doing here then? Did you come with Finn?
Jesus, she’s the fucking Riddler. It’s like being in a hit-and-run with a question truck. A tanker has crashed, spilling questions all over me, so many weighing me down I don’t know which to answer first, but… As her eyes dart about, and her mind jumps from subject to subject, I realize she doesn’t really want answers at all.
“Have you met my boyfriend, Greg?” She points to Greg, who nods and raises a hand in acknowledgement.
“Yeah. At the boarding comp, and he’s in my Biology class.” I shoehorn in an answer. She tosses her hair.
“Do you like this bracelet?” She jangles a silver chain with red and blue gemstones in my face. “Where’s your T-shirt from? Is it Topshop? I saw a really cute top there yesterday.”
Before I’ve even half thought what to say she’s rammed another question into my ear. Strange. I don’t think she means to offend. She’s just chatty, in the mood. Happy to talk, but not to hear. I’m envious. I’m too polite not to listen. I wish I was too confident to care.
“Ohmygod, I
love
this song!” Georgia blurts to no one in particular. She jumps up, nodding and swinging her arms, and starts dancing. On her own. Right there in the middle of the ring of fire. But what happens next takes me by surprise. She just smiles at everyone, her candle-lit grin stretching in a dark half-moon across her face. And that does it. We all get up and dance with her. Like, crazy movements. Dad would call it throwing some shapes. It’s magic, awesome. And I think, hell yeah! HELL YEAH!
I get a good look at the others. Greg, tall with blond hair, dancing close to Georgia: he has really white trainers. He whispers something to Isaac, who’s come down the
Similar Books
