They call me black Jesus, white Moses
Heaven freezes, Hell closes
B-Boy posin', punk rock chicks, kids are alright but I need my fix
If you diggin' the mix, feelin' the drugs, if you keepin' it real
If you livin' like thugs, I spit kisses and hugs like forty five slugs
Come back on the run and kiss my love gun
Ironically, Jacqui was the first thing I talked to when I walked through the door and through the kitchen and down the steps to the dark, wooden floorboards. Her in her strawberriesandcream jumper and her dark jeans and belt and the mascara clinging to her eyelashes as usual.
I said two words to her and then she left me to fend for myself in that blood-world which was racking with music and flowing with mountain dew.
I looked around at the faces I know
I fell in love with the people in the front row
Everyone looked so gorgeous it was hard to keep my ochre mascara from running down my face. And everyone was so confident it was hard to sit comfortably on the couch next to the triplets without wanting to get right back off it and walk out.
Then there were three guys soaking from being pushed into the pool, drying themselves with hairdryers and attempting to revive their mobile phones, because chlorine and Nokia don't mix. Gemma was pretending to be shivering after she was pushed into the sparkling blue mass, but I could see the little lilac glint in her eye that is almost invisible to the naked eye. She's always been like that. She sat in Steph's room and we stood around her and they asked her if she was cold and alright and did she have a spare bra. Luckily, she didn't. Luckily, she had only brought a spare t-shirt and pants and no underwear, even though she was sleeping the night. Luckily she could look hotpinksexy with her wet bra soaking through her raspberry top, the shape of a bra outlined in water so distinctly.
Because I don't know if I take that chance just where it's gonna lead,
But what I do know is the way she dance makes shorty alright with me.
The way she (get low!)
I'm like yeah, just work that out for me.
She asked for one more dance and I'm
Like yeah, how the hell am I supposed to leave?
And later, when I was eating a quarter of a slice of vegetarian pizza I spilt the tiniest speck of sauce on my blue, plunging top. I think it may have been because for once, I took my eyes off Tom and I caught sight of Them. And when you're in such an ash-blonde world like I'm in with him, and you take one gulp of air, the air actually tastes wonderful. I had forgotten what un-spiced, un-peppered, unpolluted air tasted like.
So I spilt the sauce and I had to hide in the shadows for the rest of the night. Although, I doubt it was even visible to the naked eye.
What I'm trying to say is that I-love-you I just
I feel like this is coming to an end
And its better for me to let it go now than hold on and hurt you
I gotta let it burn
Then I escaped Tom's grasp and ducked into Steph's room with Janelle and Alice and sat on the bed while Janelle gushed over the John Mayer CD. Alice retrieved iced-coffee vodka from the wardrobe and made us all jealous by telling us she'd had some before we'd arrived. I didn't want to look, but I was sure there were stacks and stacks of bottles lined up in the wardrobe, waiting to be drunk after we'd left.
The iced-coffee vodka was almost finished, but Alice spilt a few drops of it on the floor. You wouldn't believe how beautiful alcoholic iced-coffee looks on chestnut floorboards. I wanted to get drunk, and I could see that Janelle did by the look in her eyes, and Alice said she was desperate for a drink, but we knew how bitchy Steph could get if we ever did anything like that.
Then Sarah came in and told us she had gallons of alcohol at her place, and Alice wanted to walk over there. I would have, but two hours is a little too far to walk, even for vodka.
In the banana light of Steph's room, Janelle's perfect layering glared up at me. It gathered itself at the edges and roared towards me like a silky yet violent wave. I picked at my cords.
Thankfully, I could escape the bedroom, which was fast becoming over-crowded and stuffy, because that huge, birthday cake was on the dining room table and They were lighting the candles for Steph. It was gorgeous, the way They all wanted to light them, but I could feel my jealousy kicking in. And it was made even worse by the way it sounded like the contents of a football stadium was singing "Happy Birthday" to her.
Gemma and Cam wanted to share a slice. It was either because they were full, or because they think they're fat. Cam's a dancer so I can accept her story, but Gemma? Gemma, who Mrs Lam reckons looks twenty. With the pure-white bomber jacket and tight, blueberry jeans and the strip of brown midriff showing.
So I was leaning against the wall next to Janelle, both of us eating our sugary, doughy slices of birthday cake with the clotted, creamy icing. And Tom came over and asked me what was up, with that smile on his face that he reserves only for me. I saw his words printed in my mind, but I brushed him off even though I wanted to kiss him so badly, sucking all of last week's alcohol from his mouth and not bothering to swallow the thick, glucose creaminess of the cake.
All I need in this life of sin, is me and my girlfriend
Down to ride to the bloody end, just me and my girlfriend
Then Tom walked away and I almost kicked myself because Mark and his girlfriend were kissing so completely for snatches of "Me and My Girlfriend" but I was ignoring Tom's eyes, clasping mine on him only when I was sure his head was turned.
We were bored for hours after that. It seemed like hours. Me, the triplets, Janelle, all sitting in silence, watching time flicking past in uneven clumps. I kind of wished I'd flirted back at Tom when he'd spoken to me, just like the first time we met. But everything's so much harder without alcohol.
Instead, I walked into the kitchen with a plastic cup and got some filtered water out of the huge, tinted-blue container. I wasn't thirsty, but I was bored, and drinking water always makes me feel like I'm taking good care of myself. The water was absolutely freezing as it skidded down my throat. I gulped it all down rapidly, because Janelle was standing next to me, waiting. My throat burned with blue, polar water. Then it was back to staring at my watch and listening to other people have fun and wishing I was one of them.
When Jacqui was leaving, she hugged everyone sitting to the left of me on the couch, and then she hugged me. Her soft, kinky blonde hair pressed up against my cheek, me folding my arms while she hugged me with one arm. Her left arm. The one with all the little brown lines on it.
Oh this is a song of the old lights,
That came to my heart like a hymn;
And this is a song for the old lights -
The lights that we thought grew dim,
That came to my heart to comfort me,
And I pass it along to you;
And here is a hand to the good old friend
Who turns up as good as new.
And it's funny. When I walked out of the house to meet my mum, the eleven thirty pm air was warmer than it was inside. Even though inside was so laden with scents and voices and gossip and food and music and pretty features. Everything outside was spread out; there was actually room to breathe. Too many things weren't trying to be squashed into too small an area.
And the car was even warmer. Comfortable warm though. Not stuffy warm. At the party it was stuffy cold, and I could have frozen to death if I'd wanted to.
The car's engine was mumbling softly under the sharp, glittery, tinny party leftovers. The chemical fragrances of mascara and lipstick and foundation. The teenage colours of Tom's skin and Janelle's dress and Jacqui's hair.
I sort of miss my other self.
written: Friday 30th July, 2004, 10:45pm
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