The Party Scene
Killer Parties
Later that Night:
“Are you ready to go Billie?” I screamed from the bottom of the stairs, while staring into the full length mirror that was absent mindedly placed beside the old couch in the living room.
I’ve been having trouble eating lately and it’s starting to become fairly noticeable. I lifted my shirt and ran my fingers along my now very visible rib cage. I’m not anorexic, I’ve just been so caught up in things. My sister killed herself last year. She was always the happier one out of us, well at least I thought so. She was my younger sister and we were pretty close. Although she lived with two foster parents while I lived with Billie’s family, I still made it a point to see her every single day. She was only 15 when she died, so I’m finding it really hard to deal with, even to this day. I know it sounds dumb, but alcohol and drugs make sense to me at this point. I have no creditable skills and I know the farthest I’ll ever get in life is the local record store. So I guess you could say I’ve given up on becoming a better me and just accepted me for the fuck up I am.
Anyways, I had decided to get dressed up for the party tonight. Well as dressed up as I can be. I was wearing a short black mini skirt, purple fish net leggings and a white t-shirt that I had written “Fuck peace, make music” on. I topped it off with an old pair of black high-tops that didn’t fit Billie anymore.
He came bounding down the stairs without a shirt on.
“Have you seen my black and blue striped t-shirt?” he said out of breath.
“Uhmmm...ya. I did see it. But I don’t remember where,” I said as I left the room in search of his shirt.
“Found it!” I yelled across the house, when I saw the shirt hanging loosely off the bathroom door.
“Thanks,” he said after I handed it to him.
“Now. Let’s get a move on,” I stated, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.
I climbed into the passenger seat of Billie’s old Fairlane and we drove away.
“You should probably take it easy tonight babe,” he said, placing his hand on the back of mine that laid motionless on the seat beside me. He had an uneasy tone in his voice.
“Oh really?” I said chuckling under my breath, staring out the window watching the street lights pass by.
“And what makes you think you can make that decision for me?” I asked turning my head to look at him.
He turned his head momentarily towards me, with that worried look, that only he could posses, flinting across his eyes.
“I’m just, ya know, saying tha-”he started, before I cut in.
“I know Billie,” I said slipping my hand out from underneath his and placing it on top of his.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure him.
You see, I’ve always been the girl who over does it. Whether it be the size of a birthday party or the amount of cocaine that somehow seems to reach my nose, I ALWAYS over do it. And Billie knows me better than anyone. He’s been taking care of me since my mom died of a heroine overdose when I was ten years old. I still have my dad, if he even deserves to be called that. But he’s been M.I.A. for about seven years. He was never one to face his fears, and apparently I’m one of them. So here I am, the eighteen year old product of two fuck ups, being loved to death by the most amazing guy on the planet.
Me and Billie have been dating for four years, and before that he was the type of best friend everyone dreams of. I started living with him and his mom, Ollie, when my dad left me when I was eleven. We used to stay up all night, talking about music and starting our own band. Unfortunately, Billie was the only one that had any musical talent, so I gave up on straining my vocal cords and decided to stay on the sidelines. He did start a band though. They’re called Green Day and they fuckin’ rock! His best friend Mike plays bass, and his other best friend, Tre, is the drummer.
“Promise?” he questioned.
“Promise.”
He parked the car across the street from the house where the party was. Well it looked more like a warehouse actually. He opened his door and grabbed both my hands, pulling me across the leather seat and out of the car.
“You do know that I could’ve used my own door,” I said while trying to regain my balance.
“Pfft.. doors are over rated,” he said giving me a crooked smile.
I laughed as I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the street, eager to start partying. We walked around to the side of the building until we found a large metal sliding door with a sign that read “Party’s in here fuckers”on it. After struggling for a while, because apparently Billie’s ‘boyfriend’
composure is lacking on the muscle side, I finally managed to slid the door open and we were greeted with that oh-so familiar atmosphere. I didn’t know who’s house it was, and frankly I didn’t care. I pulled Billie along behind me as we entered what looked to be the kitchen. I saw a familiar looking green-head, slouched over at the table and walked up behind him.
“TRE!! How’s it going buuuuudy?” I yelled loudly seeing as there was an old stereo system about thirty inches away from his head.
“Maddie! Billie! You’re finally here. Fuck, now we can get this party started!” he cheered and handed us each a beer.
“Are you ready to go Billie?” I screamed from the bottom of the stairs, while staring into the full length mirror that was absent mindedly placed beside the old couch in the living room.
I’ve been having trouble eating lately and it’s starting to become fairly noticeable. I lifted my shirt and ran my fingers along my now very visible rib cage. I’m not anorexic, I’ve just been so caught up in things. My sister killed herself last year. She was always the happier one out of us, well at least I thought so. She was my younger sister and we were pretty close. Although she lived with two foster parents while I lived with Billie’s family, I still made it a point to see her every single day. She was only 15 when she died, so I’m finding it really hard to deal with, even to this day. I know it sounds dumb, but alcohol and drugs make sense to me at this point. I have no creditable skills and I know the farthest I’ll ever get in life is the local record store. So I guess you could say I’ve given up on becoming a better me and just accepted me for the fuck up I am.
Anyways, I had decided to get dressed up for the party tonight. Well as dressed up as I can be. I was wearing a short black mini skirt, purple fish net leggings and a white t-shirt that I had written “Fuck peace, make music” on. I topped it off with an old pair of black high-tops that didn’t fit Billie anymore.
He came bounding down the stairs without a shirt on.
“Have you seen my black and blue striped t-shirt?” he said out of breath.
“Uhmmm...ya. I did see it. But I don’t remember where,” I said as I left the room in search of his shirt.
“Found it!” I yelled across the house, when I saw the shirt hanging loosely off the bathroom door.
“Thanks,” he said after I handed it to him.
“Now. Let’s get a move on,” I stated, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.
I climbed into the passenger seat of Billie’s old Fairlane and we drove away.
“You should probably take it easy tonight babe,” he said, placing his hand on the back of mine that laid motionless on the seat beside me. He had an uneasy tone in his voice.
“Oh really?” I said chuckling under my breath, staring out the window watching the street lights pass by.
“And what makes you think you can make that decision for me?” I asked turning my head to look at him.
He turned his head momentarily towards me, with that worried look, that only he could posses, flinting across his eyes.
“I’m just, ya know, saying tha-”he started, before I cut in.
“I know Billie,” I said slipping my hand out from underneath his and placing it on top of his.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure him.
You see, I’ve always been the girl who over does it. Whether it be the size of a birthday party or the amount of cocaine that somehow seems to reach my nose, I ALWAYS over do it. And Billie knows me better than anyone. He’s been taking care of me since my mom died of a heroine overdose when I was ten years old. I still have my dad, if he even deserves to be called that. But he’s been M.I.A. for about seven years. He was never one to face his fears, and apparently I’m one of them. So here I am, the eighteen year old product of two fuck ups, being loved to death by the most amazing guy on the planet.
Me and Billie have been dating for four years, and before that he was the type of best friend everyone dreams of. I started living with him and his mom, Ollie, when my dad left me when I was eleven. We used to stay up all night, talking about music and starting our own band. Unfortunately, Billie was the only one that had any musical talent, so I gave up on straining my vocal cords and decided to stay on the sidelines. He did start a band though. They’re called Green Day and they fuckin’ rock! His best friend Mike plays bass, and his other best friend, Tre, is the drummer.
“Promise?” he questioned.
“Promise.”
He parked the car across the street from the house where the party was. Well it looked more like a warehouse actually. He opened his door and grabbed both my hands, pulling me across the leather seat and out of the car.
“You do know that I could’ve used my own door,” I said while trying to regain my balance.
“Pfft.. doors are over rated,” he said giving me a crooked smile.
I laughed as I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the street, eager to start partying. We walked around to the side of the building until we found a large metal sliding door with a sign that read “Party’s in here fuckers”on it. After struggling for a while, because apparently Billie’s ‘boyfriend’
composure is lacking on the muscle side, I finally managed to slid the door open and we were greeted with that oh-so familiar atmosphere. I didn’t know who’s house it was, and frankly I didn’t care. I pulled Billie along behind me as we entered what looked to be the kitchen. I saw a familiar looking green-head, slouched over at the table and walked up behind him.
“TRE!! How’s it going buuuuudy?” I yelled loudly seeing as there was an old stereo system about thirty inches away from his head.
“Maddie! Billie! You’re finally here. Fuck, now we can get this party started!” he cheered and handed us each a beer.