I heard a distant voice saying: ‘Wake up.’
I didn’t want to wake up. I was comfortably asleep and wanted to stay that way.
‘Wake up, Amy.’
The sound of the voice managed to stir me a little.
‘Wake up.’
Someone was shaking me. I groaned and opened one eye. Skye was standing over me, wearing only an old, baggy T-shirt that stretched almost to her knees. Her eyeliner was smudged, her eyes were crusted with sleep, and her face was pale.
For a moment I didn’t know where I was, and then I realised I was lying under a blanket on a sofa in Skye’s lounge. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows. The party was over, but I could see cans, empty bottles, broken glasses and cigarette butts dotted everywhere. The air smelt of smoke and stale beer.
‘We have to clean this place up,’ Skye said. ‘Liz will be home soon.’
I sat up. I was about to reply that of course I would help, but a wave of sweat washed over me and I felt suddenly nauseous. Bile rose in my throat. I was going to be sick.
I jumped up, brushed past Skye and raced into the bathroom. I leant over the toilet bowl and disgorged vomit. I kept on throwing up until there was nothing even coming out of my mouth. I was shaking and my eyes were watery.
Skye stood in the bathroom doorway, laughing. This irritated me. She didn’t seem to care about how much I was suffering.
I washed my mouth out in the sink, then said to her: ‘I must have a bug or something.’
‘Nah. It’s the booze.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so. Don’t worry, though. It gets better after a while. Next time you probably won’t feel as bad.’
I wanted to say there would be no next time, that I would never drink again. But I didn’t want to seem too pathetic in front of Skye, so I kept my mouth shut.
I no longer felt as though I was going to retch, but I was faint and my head was pounding.
‘I need to lie down,’ I said.
‘No, we have to clean up. Liz will be pissed off otherwise.’
‘I can’t.’ I felt strangely emotional and was embarrassed when I became tearful. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘OK, calm down. Jesus. You can lie in my bed for a bit.’
Skye guided me to her bedroom. I was in a daze and only partially taking in my surroundings, but I couldn’t help noticing the chaos in Skye’s room. The floor was covered in detritus: clothes, shoes, cassette tapes, album covers, hair gel, compacts, empty bottles of perfume. Further clothes spilt out from a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. The walls were covered in a dense collage of posters, photos and drawings.
I clambered into Skye’s bed and pulled the duvet over my head. My forehead throbbed and my eyes felt bruised, as if they’d been pressed into their sockets. I slept, but I wasn’t sure for how long. I woke up with my stomach convulsing and vomit bubbling up into my mouth. I had to keep my lips firmly pressed together as I ran to the bathroom.
After throwing up, I crawled back into bed and slept again. Then I woke up and was sick yet again. I went through this cycle several times. In the end I wasn’t even sure how many times I’d had to rush to the bathroom.
Eventually I heard other voices in the house. Skye was talking to someone. I thought I could make out a child running up and down the corridor.
I sat up. I was feeling much better than before. I still had a headache and my throat was painfully dry, but at least I wasn’t nauseous any more. I glanced at my watch and was shocked when I saw it was midday already. Dad would be expecting me home soon. Mum might even be back from Nana’s.
I hauled myself out of bed, found my sneakers and pulled them on. I crept out into the hall. I heard people talking in the lounge. I would have preferred to slip out without anyone seeing me, but it looked as though that would be impossible.
I ducked into the bathroom, locked the door and gazed at myself in the mirror. I looked terrible: smudged makeup, hair awry, grey patches under my eyes. I managed to tidy myself up a little, then walked gingerly through to the lounge.
Liz was sitting on one of the sofas, drinking a cup of tea. She looked the same as when I’d last seen her: long coils of hair, masses of bangles, hippyish clothing. Jade – who was around nine at that point – was watching something on TV, sitting cross-legged right up next to the screen as if she were hoping to pass through it into another world. Skye was lounging in one of the chairs. All the cans, bottles, cigarette butts and other mess from the party had been cleared away, and the air smelt fresh. It looked as though Skye had managed to get all the cleaning done in time.
Liz turned to look at me as I came in, and said: ‘Hello there. Skye said you stayed the night.’
I stood in the doorway, fidgeting. ‘Hello Mrs Morris.’
She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Call me Liz. It’s really good to see you.’
‘Um, thanks.’
‘You want to stay for lunch?’
‘It’s OK, thanks. I have to get home.’
‘How are your parents these days?’
‘They’re OK.’
‘Tell them hi from me.’
‘OK. Actually, they say hi to you too.’
I kept trying to catch Skye’s eye, but she wasn’t looking at me. Instead, she was studying her bare feet and picking at one of her toenails.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘I’m going now.’
‘OK, then,’ Liz said. ‘See you again soon, I hope.’
Skye still didn’t look up, so I said: ‘Bye, Skye.’
She glanced at me for only a second. ‘Yeah, bye.’
I left the house and walked around to my bike. I couldn’t understand why Skye had been so cold towards me. The night before I’d been certain we were going to be friends. She’d welcomed me to her party. She’d given me some of her secret stash of vodka. She’d given me dope. She’d spent time talking to me when there were so many other people she could have been talking to. She’d even said I could stay the night. But now she didn’t want to even speak to me. Was she annoyed that I hadn’t helped her clean up? Or had I done something else wrong?
I was still puzzling over this as I pedalled down the drive and out into the street.
–––
I slept through most of Saturday. I had lunch with my parents, then had an afternoon nap, got up, had tea with my parents, watched TV for a while, then went to bed much earlier than usual. I felt drained, and I yawned so much Dad joked that I must have caught sleeping sickness.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, I finally felt restored. Getting drunk and staying up for much of Friday night had taken their toll on me. I could see that hanging out with Skye and her friends was going to be exhausting.
I lay in bed for a while, my mind wandering. So much had happened on Friday and I was only now beginning to process it all. On Saturday I’d been in a daze – sick in the morning, half asleep during the rest of the day. Now I could finally think things through.
There had been so many firsts: first party, first time properly drunk, first kiss. All these milestones had rushed past and now I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Part of me believed that I should feel different somehow, transformed into the new Amy. But that hadn’t happened. I was still more the old Amy than the new. And yet I wasn’t wholly disappointed either. It felt as though something inside me had briefly broken open. When I’d been drunk and dancing, the world reeling about me, I’d felt giddily free. It had been exhilarating.
My mood changed during the afternoon. I went for a walk, just wandering around as usual. It was overcast and a cold wind tugged at my hair and clothes. The little houses and gardens were cast grey. I had the familiar sense of being hemmed in, trapped.
I started dwelling on the fact that I’d kissed someone but couldn’t remember it properly. I couldn’t recall the boy’s name and I wasn’t even sure I was attracted to him. Wasn’t that a bit crazy? What had I been thinking?
Then I thought about the way Skye had been brusque with me when I’d left her house on Saturday. Why had she been like that? I went over everything that had happened during Friday night, trying to work out if there was some way I’d annoyed or upset her. I couldn’t think of anything, but then there were whole chunks of the evening I couldn’t remember. Had I done something while I was drunk? Had I had an argument with her, or insulted her?
I was feeling gloomy when I arrived at Burnside Park. I walked across the windswept playing fields and everything seemed so desolate and bleak. Skye didn’t want to be friends any more, I decided. She’d realised what a dork I was and she didn’t want anything further to do with me. She wouldn’t invite me to any more parties. I was back to being the old Amy and I would never escape.
I sat down in the middle of the park, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want to be out walking on my own any more. But I didn’t want to be at home in my room either. I was stuck. There was nowhere I could go to get away from myself.
I started sobbing and I wasn’t even sure why I was so upset. It felt like an overreaction, but I couldn’t stop.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG6vVANVMV0
–––
As it happened, it was my birthday the next Saturday. I was turning fourteen. But I felt too down to even bother with it. Mum asked whether I wanted a party and I said no. I didn’t want a party organised by my parents and I didn’t want to arrange anything myself either. I didn’t know who I would even invite.
Mum couldn’t stand the thought of us not celebrating in some way, so she proposed that we went to dinner at a restaurant. I agreed to this as that was easier than disagreeing, even though spending Saturday night with my parents seemed incredibly sad.
On Wednesday evening the phone rang and Mum shouted that the call was for me. I padded down the hallway and picked up the receiver. Adrenaline shot through me when I heard Skye’s voice.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked.
‘Um, not bad. You?’
‘Good.’
I sat on the floor. I was almost too nervous to speak. I was astonished that Skye had bothered to phone me. She must have looked my number up in the white pages, or perhaps Liz had given it to her.
I realised at that moment just how important Skye had become to me, despite the fact that I’d only seen her a couple of times recently and didn’t even know her all that well.
‘Your birthday’s this Saturday, right?’ she said.
‘Yeah. How did you know?’
‘You told me on Friday. Don’t you remember?’
‘Oh. No, I forgot.’
She chuckled. ‘I’m not surprised. You were wasted.’
I laughed a little and glanced at the open door to the lounge, where my parents were watching TV. I had to be careful what I said in case they overheard.
‘Don’t worry, I was pretty wasted too,’ she said. ‘Everyone was.’
‘Yeah, it was fun. I had a good time.’
‘Cool. So, you want to come over on Saturday? I’ve got a present for you.’
I was stunned at this. I’d been thinking that Skye didn’t even want to speak to me again. Now she’d bought me a birthday present. ‘I could come for a while during the day. I’m going out with my parents that night.’
‘Come on Sunday then.’
‘You sure? I mean, I might be able to cancel the thing with my parents.’
‘Nah, it’s fine. Come on Sunday afternoon.’
‘OK, see you then.’
I hung up, slipped back into my room and lay on my bed. I couldn’t stop smiling. My grim mood had vanished in an instant. All my fears about Skye not wanting to be friends had been totally unfounded.
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