Georgia’s parents are flash with cash, and Citrus, the huge venue under the railway arches, has been transformed for Georgia’s party. It’s beautifully decorated with my designs. Silver sculptures, like giant glinting teardrops, hang from the vaulted ceiling, where a million fairy lights wink. The butterfly acrobats twist and turn on ribbons and hoops, my drawings brought to life. The DJ box is high overhead, a giant birdcage on a monster Meccano scaffold of steel girders, just like I pictured it. It’s a wonderland. Clearly nothing’s too much for Glen and Lucy Presco’s birthday girl.
My stomach is churning, nerves and excitement mingling like guests at a dinner party; Beer Confidence and Speak Before You Think will undoubtedly join the party later.
The epic space is heaving, bodies dancing, bouncing everywhere.
I clock Georgia in the corner with Greg, chatting animatedly. As usual she stands out from the crowd, wearing zebra-print leggings, oversized geek glasses and her trademark red lipstick. Greg’s long arms caress her tiny waist and I think how odd they look, him so gangly … everything about him narrow, stretched to 110 per cent in some unfortunate twist of genetic fate … and her so pert. Like a grasshopper going out with a ladybird. Weird.
Finn heads to the bar with Slinky so I go over to Georgia. “Happy birthday. The place looks amazing,” I say.
“Thanks to you,” she says, smiling.
A glass smashes behind her and I look over to the commotion. Finn and Isaac are arguing. Finn slams his fist on the bar, slopping his beer onto the black granite surface. Isaac rolls his eyes and chucks him a bar towel. Finn takes the throw to the chest, and lets the cloth fall to the floor. Isaac glares at him, exasperated, raises his hand, then bends to pick it up. He catches my eye, and seems about to speak, but doesn’t. He whispers something to Finn, then walks off.
Finn winks at me, and I wander over.
“What was that about?” I melt as he swings an arm around my shoulder.
“What was what about?” He acts unaware.
“You and Isaac. The bar abuse.”
“He’s just being a dick. Nothing, tiger. Ignore the moody bastard.”
“Didn’t look like nothing.” I snuggle into the nook of his shoulder, burrowing for information buried inside him. Reconnaissance closeness.
“Who knows what’s up with him? He’s acting weird. I mean, he is weird, but weirder than usual. He must be bipolar or something. Best mate one minute, angry bastard the next. Throws his toys out of the pram at every little thing.” He cups my face and I plummet into his eyes. “I just said we should do a couple of lines, then double-drop tonight. No point messing about … and he flew off the handle.”
My heart starts to race, thinking about drugs. I put the Isaac thing to one side. Whatever the deal is with him, it’s that: his deal. His problem. It’s not going to ruin Finn’s and my night.
“Forget him,” Finn says, half-heartedly, eyeing the streams of spilled beer snaking across the granite and merging into one pool.
“Hey,” I say, shaking his shoulder. “He’s in a mood. He’ll be fine. We’ll find him later and he’ll be right as rain. He’s probably just stressed about exams.”
“Maybe.” Finn sighs. I’ve never seen him so distracted before, but at least it shows his sensitive side. I like that. Still, this isn’t the time or place for bust-ups. This is the time and place for booze, drugs and over-emotional chats with people you’ve only just met. This is a party after all, not The Jeremy Kyle Show. Feuding brothers can wait for a suitable daytime slot.
A maze of breeze-block corridors leads to another room, white-walled and dusty, with high arched ceilings, like a warehouse. Lights tumble around like a giant kaleidoscope, flashing, fading, glinting, fracturing, shapes shifting, colours intensifying. It’s awash with colour, music and dancing. The room hums with energy. Finn pushes through to the bar and orders two beers. I take a swig, feel it run down cold inside me. Condensation from the icy bottle trickles onto my wrist.
I push the hair from Finn’s forehead and can’t help smiling.
“Dance?” he asks.
“Yeah!” I say, and he pulls me into the hot, airless kaleidoscope. Lasers paint on a canvas of fake smoke. People dance so closely packed that you’re touching someone on every side, but nobody pushes or shoves.
Finn draws me close and I hold his waist.
He mouths something but I can’t make it out. “What?” I shout, gesturing to my ear. He yells back but it’s muffled in the bass of the music. He takes my hand and we snake through the tangle of bodies to the edge of the room. Finn pulls back a drape, revealing a door.
“VIP secret passage,” he says. “Bypass the masses.”
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead as we make our way down a corridor. We emerge through a fire door into the cool, fresh air of a courtyard – the magical chill-out area I’d sketched. Flowers and tiny lights wind through trellises. Handcrafted, rustic wooden seats dot a carpet of fake grass. It’s a paradise.
“Like the place?” he asks, taking his baccie packet from his jeans pocket.
“Love it. Inside’s a maze though!”
“You’ll get used to it. Come back here if we lose each other,” he says, holding a filter-tip in his lips. He pinches some brown-mulch-baccie, evens it out in a paper, adds the filter and expertly rolls the tobacco into a thin tube. He hands it to me, lights it and rolls one for himself. I light his and pocket the Clipper. “But I won’t lose you,” he promises, “and you’re never going to lose me.”
I scan the courtyard. People are talking, laughing, joking. It’s dark but I’ve seen at least ten people wearing sunglasses. Some girls are really made up and others just wear jeans and trainers. I smoke my rollie, not intimidated by the pretty girls. Breakthrough!
“All right, kiddo, shall we smoke these, then drop or do you want to do a line first?”
“Uh…” I hesitate.
“God, your face! Ha! Don’t worry, tiger. I’ll protect you. You’ll like it. It’ll help. Then just forget about it and enjoy.”
“All right, Super Finn, Protector of Nerdy Girls.”
“You making fun of me, are ya?” Finn ducks and weaves his head, squaring up to me, playfully.
“Course. Fun’s good.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve never had this much fun.” He cocks an eyebrow, discards his rollie and off we go again, back through the labyrinth towards the toilets.
Duh-doom-duh-doom-duh-doom. We run up some white stairs to a white room with white toilets. The music still thumps loud, but muffled here. The loos are unisex; or, if they aren’t, no one’s paying attention to the rules.
Violet comes out of a cubicle, looking worse for wear.
“Is she all right?” I ask.
“Yeah. She’s all right. Aren’t you, Vi?”
“I am now I’ve found you,” Violet says. My blood boils.
“See you later. Go get some water,” Finn instructs.
Violet staggers downstairs.
“She was totally flirting with you.”
Finn shrugs. “She’s more pickled than an onion. Three sheets to the wind.” Finn holds open the door to a cubicle. “Madam,” he says and I step inside, excited, nervous, both.
Finn reaches into his pocket and brings out a small plastic bag filled with white powder.
Oh, shit.
The reality of the drugs, physically right there – not part of a seedy TV drama scene or fly-on-the-wall documentary – and my total lack of experience, not to mention the whole illegality of the situation, hit me like a ton of bricks. My moral compass starts twirling and my head starts spinning. Information from years of PSHE lessons I’d hardly been listening to suddenly asserts itself. The file marked DRUG FACTS lays bare its contents:
– Sharing needles can give you HIV/AIDS and hepatitis.
– Sudden death can occur on the first use of cocaine.
– Ecstasy inhibits the body’s ability to regulate its temperature and can cause dangerous overheating.
Granted, these are extremes. I’m fairly sure Finn isn’t about to whip out a crack pipe, but still… Am I really going to do this?
Finn tips some powder onto the ledge behind the toilet. It’s a bit lumpy. Is that normal? He takes a twenty from his wallet, places it flat on the powder, then presses his bank card over the note, crushing the powder into finer particles.
I’m out of my depth. My breath falters. Beer rises in my throat, then falls away again.
“Wait,” I say.
Finn stops and turns his attention to me. Blood seems to drain from my face and pool in my shoes. I must be dead white.
“What is it?”
“I … I’m not sure I can… I mean, do we have to?”
“You don’t have to. But you want to. Believe me.”
I want to. Yep. I do. I want to do it, I remind myself.
“I just want us to have a good time,” Finn says.
Leaving the note over the powder, he sits on the closed toilet, wraps his arms around my legs and tugs me forwards to sit on his lap. “We can do it together.”
My hands are trembling, but I try to ignore them.
“OK,” I say.
“Good call,” Finn says, releasing his arms. Their warmth lingers on my waist as I stand up. My whole body tingles with anticipation, but I can’t help wondering where my not-so-moral compass is leading me. Good call? Could be the best choice of my life. I’ll probably have the Best Time Ever and that’ll be the end of it.
Maybe I won’t seem like such a vanilla hanger-on to Violet, Georgia and that lot. OK, Carla, just fucking get on with it and reap the rewards, not just tonight, but at school on Monday.
Putting the note aside, Finn meticulously divides the powder into two long, narrow lines, using the card. It’s impossible not to watch: I might get tested later or something… Also, it just seems such a bizarre act. Are people doing this all the time in pubs, clubs, at home? All this fuss over a little white stuff? But what do I know? I guess we’re about to find out.
Finn tucks his hair behind his ears and I think he looks cuter than ever. A little glaze of sweat makes him glow. His head bobs with the beat as he takes the twenty and rolls it into a cylinder, a little pipeline…
“I’ll show you how,” he says.
I make a mental note of his technique. He holds the note between his thumb and forefinger, the end of the note-tube just inside his nostril. In one swift sniff the powder disappears. Just like that. Gone.
“Your turn.” He holds out the note. “Ready?”
Um, NO. I shake my head, but take the note.
Sudden death can occur on the first use of cocaine.
I bite my lip, breathing in, hoping to activate something within, the alcohol perhaps, anything for confidence. But it’s time, it’s going to happen and then it is happening…
I risk a glance at Finn, hoping for further advice. He’s wiping his nostrils.
“Breathe out first, then breathe in sharply through your nose,” he instructs.
OK. I can do this. I step away from the stall wall and it’s right in front of me, so silly, so small, so…
I lean over the line while he holds my hair back. His fingertips send a shiver down my spine.
Sudden death can occur on the first use of cocaine.
I exhale, put the note to my nose and breathe in, trying to suck up the powder. It’s at this moment that I realize I haven’t even asked if it actually is coke. It could be any freaking thing. MDMA? Mephedrone? Ketamine? I did some research online… It’s surprising what people will put up their noses. Anyway, too late now. I’ve agreed to do it. The little white line vanishes, like dirt up a Hoover. Zoom, suck, gone.
I don’t know what to expect. Fireworks? I don’t think it’s affecting me much. A cool, hard, but not harsh, sensation as I snort it. Then numbness at the back of my throat: the “Chemical Drip”, Finn says. Otherwise … nothing.
I blink a few times. What was I worried about? And what’s all the fuss? It doesn’t seem that great to me. I do want another beer though…
Yeah another beer would be good you know it would feel good to drink another beer loosen me up and then maybe we could have a dance or a smoke or whatever it doesn’t matter but we should really get out of this cubicle we’ve been in here ages and the music sounds pretty good we should probably dance I think we should dance let’s get another beer and then dance…
Blink. Blink. “Yo, bad influence. Let’s get a drink. It’s thirsty weather,” I say. Finn scans the ledge, making sure he’s pocketed all his things.
“Yep. Let’s amscray.”
I unlatch the cubicle door and kick it open. Suddenly I feel determined. On a mission. I grab Finn’s hand. It seems so natural. I remember where the nearest bar is, and lead him there. I smile at the barman and order two beers. I pay.
Although it’s late I feel really awake. The place has filled up even more since we went to the toilets and everyone’s dancing. The music sounds good and I feel so in control of it. Like this is my music. And my turn to dance. So we do. The music pulses and I pulse with it. But now that we’re dancing, I feel like talking. We can do both. Yeah. That’ll work.
“Hey, so how did you get into this has it been long where did you find out about this place I really like it there’s such a mix of people and the music’s good I mean I’m not used to this kind of music but I like it it’s good.”
“Yeah, I used to come here with Isaac all the time. He’s laid off it a bit recently though, but he can be a proper wreckhead at times. He’s a dark horse! So yeah, you call me a bad influence, well, Isaac was mine. Big bro, you know, he was cool.”
“Ah, so the bad boy has an even bigger badder brother.”
“Something like that. But he’s a bit of a lame-ass these days. He actually turns up for revision sessions.”
“Call the police he dared try to pass his exams CRIME CRIME!”
“Ha ha! Yeah! How very dare him!”
“You get on well with Isaac then look out for each other it must be nice to have a brother.” I’m speaking so fast…
“Yeah, he’s a mate and a kinsman.” Finn straightens his back and takes a deep breath before leaning into me, saying, “But he don’t half annoy me sometimes. I think he might like you, Miss Tiger. And I don’t like the thought of my bigger badder brother liking you.”
“Mr Masterson I can assure you I…” My head starts to feel a little woolly, and not bad, but, but, but, um, I think I just feel a little drunk and I guess I’m still awake but it’s not quite the same. “I can I assure you Mr Masterson that … um … that…” I breathe in, deeply.
Isaac. Isaac staring at me in the car and fighting with Finn and HOLDING BACK MY HAIR WHILE I ALMOST VOMIT. He couldn’t. He hates me. Doesn’t he? I’m just a girl taking away his brother’s attention… No, I don’t believe it.
OHMYGOD. That’s it. Isaac likes me.
Regaining my composure, I say, “I only have eyes for the one brother,” but my mind is whirring with thoughts, with chemicals, with a whole mess of crap that’s fighting for my attention. Got to focus on Finn.
“And which brother would that be?” He smirks.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I mirror his silly smile, and although I don’t feel as confident or clear-headed now the initial buzz is gone, I still have the conviction I need at this moment. I don’t wait for him to answer. I just kiss him. Certain and easy, a natural kiss I’m in control of from start to finish.
“Mmm, some more sweet, for my sweet? A little pick-me-up?” Finn says.
“Yeah. I think so. I think it’s wearing off. I didn’t really feel like it was anything but now it’s worn off…”
“It’s a funny one, coke. Like not knowing what you’ve got till it’s gone,” Finn says, referring to that old Joni Mitchell song. “But I’ve got another treat for you, tiger.”
“Yeah?” I look at his perfectly formed neck and high cheekbones, smooth and rough all at once. Stubble dots his clear skin. Whenever I look at him I feel like I’m falling into this great black hole, like I could fall continuously, just thinking about him. I can’t explain it. I could drink him in for ever and still be thirsty.
I blink. I open my eyes wide. “We can do that. I’d like to. Feeding time for the tiger.”
“Raaa!” He bites my ear and my breath catches. Rushes shoot through my body and I wonder how I will feel after more if I feel like this now. It will be amazing. It has to be.
The artificial light bounces off my skin. In the mirror I look dull, like I’m seeing myself through blue-tinted sunglasses. Wiping a black tear of kohl liner from the corner of my eye, I start to feel ugly, but shake it off. Got to be hot. Got to be in control, ready for anything, that’s how Finn wants me. And I want that too. I want what he wants. A cubicle door smashes against its wooden frame and Finn glides through it, nonchalant and King of Everything. He kisses my hand and pulls the door back.
“Madam.” He bows and waves me into the cubicle. There’s something ironic about it. I feel like royalty. We’re doing this special secret thing, but in a two-by-four-foot box with sticky floors and a strange acidic smell, urine probably. Our royal box.
We do another line of coke. Finn says it will help me “get in the spirit”. I don’t say no because it didn’t seem to do much the first time anyway. Can’t have too much of nothing, right? Finn reaches into his pocket for a greyish package, which turns out to be about ten pills wrapped in clingfilm. I notice the pills have indented heart shapes. That’s got to be a good sign. My heart pounds. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Am I really going through with it?
Finn has waved a wand over me and I’m under his spell. I’ll do anything.
“Drop now?”
“Yeah.” I nod approvingly. “Is it like being drunk?” I ask, and immediately feel like a dunce. Finn doesn’t notice.
“No, not really. Sort of. It’s wanting to talk and dance and appreciating everything that’s around you…”
“Sounds like some hippy dippy shit to me.”
“Just wait, Carla. You wanna be happy? I can make you happy. This will make you H. A. P. P. Y!” He places the pill on my tongue and offers me his beer. I take a gulp and swallow it. Just like that.
Finn necks his pill, too. His hair falls away from his face, then flutters back over his eyes. They glint under the harsh light. He shakes his fringe to one side, leans in and kisses me. I taste the saltiness of sweat.
“I’m going to make you love me, tiger. You’ll love me in half an hour!”
I’m not scared. I want to love him. I think… Maybe I already do. I can feel it growing inside me. A force of nature gaining speed and strength. A hurricane about to rip through me, and him. I don’t need a heart pill to tell me that.
He gives me a long hug before we head back to the party, happy, joking, awake, together, on fire…
Half an hour later, the pill floats inside me like a lifeboat adrift, firing distress signals. Beacons of nausea, flares of discomfort in my stomach, alarm bells in my head. But Finn says it’s OK.
“It’s only natural, tiger. Give it ten minutes. You’ll be right as rain, I’m telling you.” His words fade in and out, like I’m underwater and he’s shouting from the edge of the pool.
I feel strange and hot and sick. The lights seem to flash more slowly, their colours bleeding together in an intense haze. I have a sip of beer. Oh God, oh God, oh God, ohmygod what the fuck is happeningwhatthefuckishappeninginging…
“All right, tiger, you look a bit peaky, let’s go for a smoke and a sit down. You’ll be fine in a minute.” Finn grabs my wrist and we weave through the crowd like a motorbike in traffic. I feel like everyone is watching me. Can they see something is wrong? Can they? Is anything wrong? I flick through emotions like I’m sampling food at a buffet. I’m scared. What’s happening? But I’m safe, Finn will look after me. Rationalize, Carla. People are looking, but then again, are they? I’m awake, and starting to feel … something … something else … something better … but holy fuck am I scared…
“Sit down,” Finn instructs, moving an empty bottle from a wooden seat. I lower myself clumsily and lean against the trellis-covered wall separating us from the street. The barrier between me and running home. Oh God, I want to go home.
“Can you take me home, Finn? I don’t like this.”
“Trust me. Just wait.”
“I feel weird.”
“Good weird?”
“I dunno. Just weird.”
“Just your adrenalin pumping. You’ll adjust.” He strokes my cheek sympathetically. “My first time I felt scared, too. But then you feel great. Let’s find you a distraction.”
He passes me the cigarette he’s been rolling. I hold it between my teeth while I feel for the lighter that’s still in my pocket. Before I can pull it out of my jeans, Finn’s hand clamps down on my thigh.
I spot Greg and point him out to Finn.
“Hey, mate, you got fire?” Finn turns to Greg, who removes his thick-rimmed sunglasses and hooks them onto the neck of his navy and white striped T-shirt.
“Sure,” he says, smiling, and pulls a lighter from his black skinny jeans. He smiles and crouches beside me to light my rollie. I immediately feel more at ease. Greg has a friendly face: strangely round cheeks for someone so slim, thin cherry lips and wide, dark eyes. His blond hair tumbles forwards like the crest of a glittering sun-soaked wave.
“You having a good night?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, real good. You?”
Greg nods. “Been out here most of the time though!”
“I know,” Finn says. “You get caught in the net. Always the way. Too many good-looking, fun specimens of person out here! Where’s the birthday girl?”
“Dancing. That girl loves to dance.”
Greg brushes the gold wave back from his face, then lets it crash forwards.
Everywhere I look people are laughing, joking, having the Best Time of Their Lives, and you know what? I’m starting to feel pretty damn good, too. I interlock my fingers and click them back. I feel…
Suddenly I begin to talk. With a deft flick of the tongue, I’m verbal. Verbal and animated.
“You, er, mean to come out dressed as a sailor or was it an accident?” I verbanimate. Greg and Finn have twin expressions of mock-shock. Their mouths hang open. But Greg doesn’t seem at all bothered by the not-so-veiled insult. It’s just banter.
“I like this T-shirt!” Greg pinches the fabric and pulls it out from his chest; he ducks his chin, eyeing the stripes. “It’s an ace shirt!”
“It is. It’s, er, shipshape.”
“You’re on fire, tiger!” Finn says, and then leaning close, in a low voice, “I can see you’re feeling better. I told you so.” I can do nothing but smile.
“All right, let’s leave Sinbad alone. He lent us his lighter after all,” I say, winking. “I guess you’ve got to get back to the ship and mop some decks, reel some nets in—”
“Batten down some hatches,” Greg interjects with a cheeky smirk.
“I reckon we’ve dropped anchor out here long enough. You coming in for a dance?”
“Nah, mate. Catch you later. I’m liking it with the good-looking, fun specimens. I feel at home!” Greg says, slipping his sunglasses back over those wide, dark eyes.
A film of sweat glistens on Finn’s brow. I ask him if he wants some water. We get a bottle between us. Leaning against the wall of the dance room, I drink in the people filing past. They seem straight from the pages of Vice. I recognize some from school but most are new to me. Maybe they’re from Georgia’s model agency. Wannabe Lesley Arfins mixing with lager lads. You can be anything here. You are free. Free.
“What’s free?” Finn says. Shit, I said that out loud!
“I was just thinking how there’s such a diverse group of people here. How you’re free to be who you want to be.” I scan the room. A tall beardy guy slyly smokes behind a ten-foot stack of speakers. A girl with too much hair and bug-eye glasses chats with a dude in Nike hi-tops and Teddy-boy tie. Another guy wears a T-shirt reading, I FACEBOOKED YOUR MUM, his hair backcombed to retro perfection. A few randoms work the Day-Glo look.
“I mean, look at her,” I say, pointing discreetly to a girl in floral print with knitting needles around her neck. “She gets the thumbs-up for her twist on granny chic. But the bloke she’s talking to, he’s wearing Adidas trackies circa 1996. You wouldn’t exactly put them together.”
“Beauty of the dark, Carla.”
“I guess. All sorts of crazy things happen in the dark, right?” Words fall out of me and it feels good. Free. This place feels free. I hope the night lasts for ever.
Finn kisses my neck softly. I feel alive. Weightless. But I make him stop.
“Not a pretentious crowd at all…” I don’t even know if that’s sarcasm or not. I get it though: these seeming misfits would never speak ouside the walls of this club. Their paths wouldn’t cross. But here, they are the same, all out for a good time, all collaborating to make it happen. United by a common goal: to get wasted. Am I making sense? I’m thinking too much. I shake my head again. Thoughts fall out.
“Some are, but we’re all friends here!” Finn says, a giant grin spreading across his face. And I know why; I can see it all around, in the faces of the mixed-bag crowd.
A tune builds tempo stealthily, gathering speed, energizing … and then kicks in with a thud, and my guts twist with delight. My heart skips a beat. My head feels suddenly clear. At this moment there is nothing but this room and this feeling. Finn joins the chorus of “ohhhs” praising the DJ, who’s nodding, flicking switches, turning dials, whatever it is they do, working his magic. He looks across his people, and grins. Commander of an army. King. God. He’s sly. He knows what he’s doing. I catch the eye of granny-chic girl, who’s dancing, faux-knitting to the beat. She mouths “Yeah!” to me and I do the same. YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! We’re all the same. This is fucking madness and I love it!
I’ve never danced so much in my life. Not caring how I look, not being able to disguise my joy. I’m in abso-fucking-lute awe of the DJ and think to myself: Why haven’t I done this before? What have I been doing all this time? I was a shy animal cowering in the corner of my cage. Now the door is open. Beyond that door is a world. And I’m dancing in it. Like a prize twat. But a happy, free twat who doesn’t give a shit what you think…
While we’re dancing Finn reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cling-filmed packet.
“Open wide,” he says, putting another pill on my tongue. I swill it down with some water. Anything to keep this feeling alive. Finn swallows one, too. A song I recognize but don’t know the name of comes on. It doesn’t matter; I still know the tune, the words. Lost in Finn, I watch him like no one else exists in the room. He smiles and sweats and moves. He’s done this a hundred times, drugs, clubs, the party thing, but still I feel special to be with him. Maybe for him it feels fresh and new with me? I want to grab him and say, “Hey, you! I want to be with you always!” That’s silly, we hardly know each other. But something about him and this moment makes me think we’ll last for ever.