Fireball by Tyler Keevil Page A

chase with.
    I started feeling a bit sick.

    The thing is, it’s not like I hate everybody in West Van. I’ve got some relatives out there who are pretty sweet. But they’ve never really liked it much, either. The problem with West Van is that it tends to be super excessive – and this party we went to was no different.
    We came off the Upper Levels at the Caulfield exit, and wound our way through this endless maze of monster mansions. Each one was the size of three normal houses. That area of West Van is unreal. There’s no poor people left. They’ve all been shot or run out of town. Realtors charge you five grand just to look at a house, let alone make an offer. Some of the lots were so big you couldn’t even see how far back they went. Most of them had gates, too.
    â€˜Here. This must be it.’
    The street out front was crammed with all kinds of super sweet cars: Beamers and Audis and monster SUVs. There was even some kind of limited edition Porsche. It was nuts. We parked further down and walked up the drive, which was about five miles long. The house looked crowded, but also pretty sedate – not at all like the toga party Julian had later. To begin with, there was some kind of professional bouncer at the door. He actually had a little clipboard with a guest list and everything.
    â€˜You got an invitation?’ he asked.
    â€˜Tim invited me. I’m Julian.’
    The guy checked his list.
    â€˜What about your friends here?’
    â€˜Uh …they’re with me.’
    â€˜Hold on a sec.’
    The guy pulled out his cellphone, which was so small you could hardly see it. ‘Tim – I got a Julian here. Brought three friends with him. Can you confirm?’
    Me and Chris looked at each other. We were both trying not to laugh. I leaned over and whispered, ‘Yeah – I can confirm that this is officially the shittiest party of all time.’
    The guy didn’t hear. He was listening and nodding into his phone.
    â€˜Uh-huh. Gotcha. Okay.’
    He stepped aside.
    â€˜Go on in,’ he said.

    It was like we’d arrived on another planet.
    The first thing I noticed was the space. Every room was massive, with super high ceilings and yawning archways. Even a little room, like the foyer or the bathroom, was at least twice as big as you’d expect. The next thing I noticed were the people filling the space. It was as if somebody had dressed up all the beach mannequins in ridiculously nice clothes – Diesel, Armani, Banana Republic, whatever – then carefully arranged them around the house in various positions. They stood there sipping cocktails and chatting, totally stiff and fake.
    â€˜This is fucked, man,’ Chris whispered.
    â€˜I know. It’s nuts.’
    We stuck close to Julian as he made his way through the hallway, the lounge, the dining room, another lounge, and into this entertainment room with a huge TV hanging on the wall. Every so often he’d stop and say hello to somebody. He knew a bunch of the people from tennis lessons or the winter club or whatever. Karen did too, actually. We didn’t. We just trailed along in their wake. We’d get introduced to somebody and then end up standing there as Karen or Julian talked with them. Conversations were always the same.
    â€˜It’s so good to see you!’
    â€˜How do you know Tim?’
    â€˜That outfit is amazing!’
    Everybody looked incredible in exactly the same way. It was like they all had the same personal stylist. The only ones who stood out were me and Chris. People noticed us wherever we went. I mean, it was obvious we didn’t belong within a hundred miles of that house. Eventually we got sick of everybody staring at us. We left Julian and Karen to their mingling and headed off on our own.
    â€˜Let’s check out the balcony.’
    â€˜Lead the way, Chubby Checker.’
    It was my idea. I was hoping that we might find some normal