Her New Disguise is Butterflies

11

Of course it couldn't last. Perfection and Bliss Bradley don't work well together in the same sentence. Or universe even. We clash like two magnets, like the chavs and the teachers at school, like two cars colliding on slippery roads. It just wasn't meant to be, was it? No, would be your answer.

Josh had helped me find Polly and Libby, and then left us so he could take the stage, despite there being still no sign of Matt or Sacha. I hoped he'd flushed her down the toilet. I really did. She was annoying everyone to the stars and back tonight. No, she was annoying us to Pluto and back. That was much further.

"So you and Josh holding hands," Polly shouted at me over the music that was currently being blasted from the speakers, she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, I think it's just so he didn't lose me," I shouted back. Libby rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What?" I asked her, loudly. She only repeated her previous action. I sighed, choosing to ignore her for the moment.

"Don't be so pessimistic. Your fingers were linked and everything," Polly shouted again. I nodded in some sort of agreement, just so she'd shut up. Once Polly got started on something, she found it difficult to stop. My eyes widened as I saw Sacha staggering over to us, over Polly's shoulder. Polly and Libby followed my line of sight.

"Oh good god," Libby groaned at the sight of her. She did look a state. Tracks of salt water were running down her cheeks, washing away her make up, one of her false eyelashes was stuck to her forehead and her fringe was sticking up at all angles. She spotted us and hobbled over.

"He hates me, so I'm drowning my sorrows, anyone care to join me?" She mumbled, carelessly wiping her face, smudging an array of colours across her cheek.

"Yep, definitely. Get something strong for Bliss, she needs some sort of courage for tonight," Polly instructed. Sacha nodded and hobbled off towards the bar, blood was seeping from her ankle, where he stupid shoe was cutting into her skin.

The lights dimmed even more and the crowd closer to the stage started screaming, throwing their hands into the air and cheering. I twisted around to watch their entrance. Josh was the last of them to jump onto the stage and they immediately went into a song, rather than wasting time with introductions. My eyes swiveled over to Matt, he was drenched in water and he looked stressed, as he played. The Sacha effect. We need to warn all males of the world.

Something was held under my nose and I spun around to see Sacha holding a glass close to my face, filled with a yellow-y substance.

"Cider," she said, thrusting it into my hand and stumbling off into the crowd.

I studied the drink, before raising the glass to my lips and glugging half of it down in one go. If this was supposed to help me speak to Josh properly, then maybe, it was worth getting slightly drunk.

All through the show, myself, Polly and Libby stayed close to the bar. Polly was our designated drink buyer, due to her looking older than fifteen, well she just had to pull her top down slightly and flick her hair over her shoulder, flirt with the young barman and he'd hand over any alcoholic liquid she desired. We drank anything Polly put in front of us, which was mainly vodka. It burnt my throat and chest, leaving a foul taste in my mouth, but it was stopping me from thinking and my idiocy. After a few drinks, we danced around, waving our arms in the air and accidently injuring people around us. Polly even threw her bag in the air and ended up having to go on a hunt for in, crawlling all over the floor.

My stomach began churning and I felt something hot creeping up my throat. I clamped my hand over my mouth and ran off towards the toilets, ignoring Libby calling to me to go back and dance with her. She wasn't even that drunk, she was just hyped up.

I pushed past girls flicking their hair around and admiring their pouts in the mirrors and stumbled into the middle cubicle, empting the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The smell cleared the toilets in seconds, and I recieved plenty of disgusted looks from these girls who clearly thought they were amazingly gorgeous. Strip them of their tiny skirts and tops, and their make up and hair tonges and they were nothing.

I rested my cheek against the cool seat, the smell of my puke filling my nostrils and that made my stomach churn again, and I threw up, remembering to flush the toilet this time. I groaned. This wasn't supposed to happen tonight.

The toilet door opened and Josh's voice met my ears. "Bliss? Are you okay?" He pushed the door open and looked down at me, feeling sorry for myself. Hot tears were running down my cheeks, dragging my jet black mascara and eyeliner down with them. My mouth tasted awful and I just wanted to go home and sleep.

Josh knelt down beside me and pushed my hair out of my face. I bet he thought I was a total tool now. He'd never hold hands with me again. Or maybe, even worse, he'd never talk to me or look at me ever again. I'd never get jelly knees again, and I'd have to sell myself to a nunnery, because there was no other boy on this earth that was worth it as much as he was.

I sobbed and turned away from him, more salty tears escaping my eyes.

"Bliss, stay still, okay? I'll take you home soon, when you feel a bit better," he said, soothingly, twisting pieces of my hair around. He had no idea why I was crying, and it was probably better off that way.

The toilet door opened and I heard a clicking sound, I groaned expecting to hear Sacha's shrill, hyped up voice. But instead, it was Libby. "Is she okay?"

"She will be soon, can you get her some water, Libs?" Josh asked her.

"Yeah, I'll be right back then."

"No," I mumbled, pulling my heavy head up and pushing my hair out of my face. "I want to go home."

"Are you sure?" Libby asked, "you look really pale, Bliss, maybe you should stay here, till your stomach feels better."

"No," I tried to push myself into a standing position, but fell back and hit my head on the side of the cubicle. I groaned, holding the back of my head. Josh stood up and helped me up with him, wrapping his arm around my waist and helping me stagger out of the toilets, with Libby following us.

He helped me out of the club and all the way home, all the way, talking to me, trying to get me to talk back, give him some indication of how I was feeling. I was just dreading stepping over the threshold of my house. If my dad didn't have a heart attack, he'd probably wrap his arms around Josh's neck and squeeze tightly.

When we did reach my house, it was probably the early hours of Saturday morning. I tried to wiggle out of Josh's grasp, but he held onto me tightly, insisting on walking me down the path and into the house. Which was a huge mistake.

Dad was stood at the bottom of the staircase, wearing just a pair of underpants, older than me and his worn out dressing gown. He had his worn slippers on his feet, that had a hole in the front, letting his big toe poke out.

"And where the hell have you been young lady?" He roared, "Sacha's mother phoned me earlier asking where she was, and you disappeared off to Polly's, and then Libby's mother was on the phone and - "

"Dad, don't shout," I grumbled, holding my head.

"And who are you?" Dad roared at Josh.

"Dad, you've met Josh before," I informed him, smartly.

"And what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"You've also asked him that before."

"Mr Bradley, maybe I should explain," Josh said, politely.

"Fine." Dad huffed, folding his arms trying his best to keep some sort of authority. "You, bed now," He said sternly at me.

I wiggled away from Josh, reluctantly, I might add and slowly stomped upstairs. I knew Joanne and Oliver were probably sound asleep, well maybe they weren't now. I mean, who could sleep during one of dad's mid-life crisis tantrums? He doesn't like anyone having fun.

I slipped out of my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor and pulled on my pyjamas, slumping off towards the bathroom and scrubbing my teeth till my gums bled. I needed the taste of vomit out of my mouth. It was making me feel the need to puke again and again. After successfully cleaning out my mouth, I crawlled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. My stomach was still turning over and over.

I dread to think what was happening downstairs. Dad was probably giving him the third degree, telling him about the dangers of young girls and alcohol, and that I wasn't even allowed to go to the show anyway, then he was probably asking him about guitars and such. Embarassing me to the fullest. And of course, Josh would sit there and listen to his rants and raves, nodding in agreement, then give his side of the story, explain what happened. Maybe, he'd even try and defend me, who knows?

What I do know, is that I must have been daydreaming for a long time because there was a soft knock at my bedroom door and then Josh popped his head inside. "How are you feeling?" He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, walking over to my bed and sitting down on the edge of it.

"Sick," I mumbled. "What did he say to you?"

"Not much. I told him that it was my fault you were out, and I apologised and he seems okay with it now."

"That won't stop him from grounding me till I'm forty." My stomach churned again and the hot feeling was creeping up my throat again.

Josh shifted closer to me and brushed my hair from my clammy forehead. I felt a lot smaller than him, laid here, so I sat up properly.

"It was fun tonight, well till I puked, but - " the burning was in my mouth now and I threw up in Josh's lap.