and her crisis felt a little bigger than mine.
And now here we are. Alex keeps introducing me to people, and I keep smiling and nodding and struggling to think of things to say. Alex is in a strange mood. He seems buoyant and happy in a false way, like he’s trying too hard. I thought going to a party with him would be easier than going to one alone, but it turns out it’s much harder, because now everything I do feels like it’s a reflection on him.
My face must be betraying my anxiety because Alex takes a step closer and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.
‘It’s not really dancing. It’s jumping. It’s fun, trust me.’
Oh, jumping. Cool. We large-breasted girls love jumping.
There are neon yellow and green jelly shots on a platter, and Alex sucks down two in a row before heading to the heaving mass of jumping bodies. I hover over the jelly shots before also grabbing one and sucking it down. It tastes like jelly with a burn. It’s much better than actually drinking alcohol, at least. It might be the only good thing about this party. That, and the cupcakes with fluro icing I saw downstairs.
I’m ignoring the fact that my ears are already ringing from the music, and now that I’m in the crush of bodies, I feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic. The sound of the music gets into my mouth and rattles my teeth.
This is fun, this is fun, this is fun, this is fun.
This is how people have fun.
I jump in time to the beat and close my eyes, which gives me a not entirely awful out of body and time experience, and for a moment I understand the appeal of letting your body go and thinking of absolutely nothing. The jelly shot is helping.
I bump into someone who is very, very sweaty. Their sweat is on me now. That’s okay, I can handle that. Everything is hot and sticky in this room. I can feel the zinc running down my face. I probably have sweat marks on my top. I need to get to a bathroom and re-apply my concealer at some point.
Someone puts their hands on my waist from behind, and I know it’s not Alex because I can see him in front of me, bopping around, grinning, spraying people with his water gun, having the time of his life. I twist around and try to see who is holding me, but before I can, the person is lifting me in the air, up and down, like I weigh nothing. (I do not weigh nothing.)
I wriggle free, turning to see that it’s Owen Sinclair.
‘Wooooooo!’ he yells, waving his hands in the air. His eyes are wobbly and unfocused, and his hair is slick with sweat. This is the most unattractive he’s ever looked.
I am filled with a deep sense that I do not want to be here. I definitely do not want Owen Sinclair lifting me up and down like I’m a toy.
Then Alex appears.
‘Are you okay?’ he mouths—the music is too loud to hear words properly.
‘Not really,’ I mouth back.
Alex leans closer to me. ‘What’s wrong?’
I want to calmly give him a clear and detailed explanation of how I’m feeling, but that’s not quite what happens.
‘I hate this!’ I shout.
‘What?’
‘This whole thing.’
I wave my hands vaguely and take a second to glare at Owen Sinclair, who gives me a thumbs up in return.
‘What happened?’ Alex says.
My heart is racing, and I feel like I might cry, which would give me a one hundred per cent cry rate at parties.
‘I’m leaving,’ I say in return. I walk down the stairs and out into the backyard. I find a chair to sit on and take in big gulps of air. My heart is still going a million miles an hour. Maybe it was the jelly shot. Maybe my body is having a reaction to alcohol.
I hunch over, close my eyes and count to ten—one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten—and I feel a bit better, so I do it again. One-two-three-four—
‘What’s going on?’ Alex says, squatting next to me.
I open my eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have come,’ I say.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I knew it would be like this.’
‘Like what?’ He looks impatient.
‘Like this. All these awful people. I hate everyone here.’ I don’t even care that they’re his friends.
‘I shouldn’t have invited you,’ Alex says, in a tone that pisses me off.
‘No, you shouldn’t have. I thought this was supposed to be about celebrating me getting into uni.’
‘I thought