Kaleidoscope

[sophie]

It's Christmas and yes, whilst sadly for me I have to do essays it's also time for relaxing and I can never stay away from writing for long....


India Napier hung upside down. Maybe it was a childish thing to do at nearly seventeen but India didn’t care. She watched the world the wrong way up, her short curls tickling her face slightly and the branch rubbing against her legs. The sun was warm on her skin and she squinted slightly at the brightness before closing her eyes slightly, allowing her to see a kaleidoscope of colours and to imagine she was anywhere, anyone.

“Indy!”

India opened her eyes properly to see her best friend, Lydia, and although she was upside down India knew she had her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. Reluctantly she turned the right way up, shaking her head slightly with the headrush.

“What were you doing?”

“What did it look like?”

“Like you were hanging upside down from a tree,” said Lydia exasperatedly. “Why do you still do that?”

“Because it’s fun,” said India defensively. “I’ve done it every day since I was old enough to run.”

“But you’re practically seventeen now, it’s weird.”

Lydia sat next to her on the branch.

“I’d rather be weird,” said India, her face feeling hot.

“Doesn’t it make you feel dizzy? And don’t you worry someone’ll see you?”

“No. It clears my head. I don’t care if they laugh at me,” said India. “What are you doing now?”

Lydia wrinkled her nose.

“Going home, I guess.”

“You sound so enthusiastic.”

“Luke’s going to be there and he’s such a brat.”

“You’ve said that since he was born.”

“That’s because he’s always been one!”

India laughed at her and brushed the dirt off her school dress.

“You can hang at mine, if you like,” she offered, getting off the branch and picking up her bag. “Dad won’t mind.”

“I have to babysit him,” said Lydia in a voice of disgust. “Luke, I mean. You’re so lucky not to have a brother or sister.”

“Maybe,” said India, feeling awkward. “Walk with me anyway.”

So the girls walked back talking about how Allie had ditched her boyfriend and was seeing someone else already, how they could not do their maths assignment and how the teachers gave them way too much work at weekends, and though India smiled and listened to her best friend she thought of other things until Lydia said,
“You know, Indy, if you stopped hanging off trees someone might be interested in you. You act like a six-year-old.”

India was hurt by her stinging remark and stared at her but then Lydia gave her a smile and said,
“Wish me luck with Luke!” and then she turned a corner and was gone.

India walked the rest of the way back feeling mixed-up and kicked a stone until it went into the road. She felt angry with Lydia but maybe she had a point, she wondered reluctantly. She would be seventeen in three weeks and no one she knew bothered hanging off trees and she was sure her mother hadn’t. She was sure her mother had given that kind of thing up even before her teens and when she was turning seventeen she was seeing Dad and...well, she didn’t want to go into that. India got her mind off the topic and took out her doorkey before stepping inside, blinking after the bright blue sky outside. She threw her bag onto her bed and then went to pour herself a glass of water, Lydia’s criticism echoing in her mind.

“I wouldn’t go out with any of them anyway,” she mumbled irritably, holding her glass under the tap.

“Glad to hear it!” came a voice behind her and India jumped before turning and frowning at her father who was grinning.

“You’re not funny.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Keep begging.”

Declan raised his eyebrows.

“What’s that about?”

“What?” she snapped, taking her glass and going through to the sitting room, her father following her.

“That,” he remarked, as India sulkily grabbed the TV remote and switched something inane on.

“Nothing.”

“I beg to –“

“Dad, don’t! I’m fine.”

“Really,” said Declan sarcastically, resisting the urge to taunt his daughter slightly by saying that he begged to differ again.

“It sounds stupid when you say that anyway,” said India defensively, taking a large gulp of water. “Like you’re trying to be clever.”

“I don’t need to try.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“I don’t see the joke...”

India rolled her eyes and chucked down the remote.

“I’m going to do my homework.”

“Already?” called Declan after her. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

“Yes,” came an impatient call but Declan didn’t follow her. He knew when his teenage daughter was best left alone and also knew, too well, that if he went after her now he’d get snapped at for is trouble and decided to wait until dinner to ask her. He switched over to some footy match but didn’t really watch it.

“Well, Didge, you’d know what to say,” he sighed, and sat back in the chair.

India went into her room and shut the door, resisting the urge to slam it. She looked in the mirror and there she was: India Napier, nearly seventeen years old with unruly brown curls and the sky-blue eyes she had inherited from her mother and her funny nose as well, in her awkward school dress. India didn’t think she looked much like her father at all. The only thing she seemed to have got from him was sarcasm, which her dad seemed proud about sometimes and annoyed about at others. She tugged at her school dress slightly, hating it, thinking that it made her look like a child and she took it off, trying not to criticise her reflection too much. She put on some jeans and a singlet and got out her maths book to start the dreaded assignment but though she opened a page and even took up a pen she could not concentrate. After doing one sum she sighed, put it down and looked at the photo of her mother beside her bed with her happy, easy smile and she picked it up.

“Well, Mum,” she said, looking at her. “What do you think? What should I do? What would you do?”

India looked at her and closed her eyes but no answer came and she looked at the picture sadly again and then lay it next to her on the bed. She knew she couldn’t really get advice from Bridget but India always talked to her picture all the same, always had, always would, and she continued to glance at it as she tried to do her work again, something else she had done since she was old enough to run.

[Bee]

good start Sophie (:

cant wait for more (:

[kate]

Nice start Sophie. I like how this has coincided with your essay writing... hmm, coincidence?

[sophie]

Oh Kate...you know me too well!


India and Declan ate dinner in silence. Declan cast glances at his daughter but she didn’t look at him and instead drank from her glass of water and concentrated on her food.

“Dad,” she said suddenly, “do you think I’m childish?”

Declan looked at her, surprised.”

“No,” he said carefully. “Where did that come from?”

“Nowhere,” said India quickly. “Forget it.”

“Is that what you were upset about before?” he asked shrewdly. “Did someone say something to you?”

“No, Dad, forget it!”

“Because they don’t know anything,” he said firmly. “You’re fine the way you are.”

“Yeah, well you’d be happy if I carried on watching Animal Astronauts for the rest of my life!”

“You know me so well,” said Declan sarcastically and his daughter raised her eyebrows.

“It’s not funny! And what do you mean, I’m fine the way I am? Do you think I act young for my age?”

“What’s with the third degree?” protested Declan, putting his hands up. “If someone’s said something to you go and yell at them, don’t take it out on your dad!”

“I’m not taking anything out on you,” snapped India, getting up and taking her plate to the sink. “And I don’t want any dessert, I have a big assignment.”

“There’s chocolate cake...”

“I’ll have some later.”

“Homework before cake?” asked Declan incredulously. “Now that’s a cardinal sin.”

“A cardinal sin is you trying to be cool!”

“Watch it,” warned her father. “Enough of the backchat.”

India looked annoyed and then ashamed and she finally muttered,
“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Declan, picking up the plates. “I knew I’d regret giving you that sarcasm gene!”

“You love it,” teased India and he smiled.

“Come on, Indy,” said Declan eventually. “Don’t do your homework just yet, come and have cake and chill out.”

“Chill out?” echoed India, raising her eyebrows.

“Hey, my generation said it before yours.”

India sighed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll eat some of it but then I’ve got to do some work. Is that still a cardinal sin?”

“Maybe half of one,” decided Declan, as India helped clear away. “I’m glad you’ve got your mum’s work ethic though.” He stopped and smiled. “She’d be so proud, Indy.”

India smiled back and felt a little better but half a slice of chocolate cake later and she was wondering about how much truth was in her father’s words, about her work ethic at least. Rather than doing her work she kept finding herself doodling and daydreaming and now and then staring into the mirror, wondering if she looked young too, until she caught herself. India couldn’t stand girls whose main aim of the day was to stare at their reflection and put on a kilo of makeup and she was not going to become one of them. She knew Mum had hated those kind of girls too and if she had been in her daughter’s place India was sure that she would have completed the assignment by now, or, at the very least, done more than one question, which was more than what she could say, and India couldn’t help wonder if she would be proud of her too. Bridget would want a daughter who worked hard at her schoolwork, not one who worried a lot about how she looked and on scoring a boyfriend. India had never had a boyfriend.

“But I don’t care,” muttered India angrily, annoyed with herself. “I don’t,” she said again, firmly, and she went back to her work and made herself think but she was only able to get a little more done.
There was a knock on her door and India jumped.

“Yeah?”

“How’s it going?”

India made a face.

“I’m watching a movie if you want to have a break.”

“What kind of movie?”

“Some eighties sci-fi thing. It’s pretty bad but that makes it more funny.”

“Maybe,” said India, sucking the end of her pen.

“Well, don’t work too hard, okay? Maybe it’d help if you had a break.”

“Maybe,” sighed India, and then, “I’d rather get it done or it’ll be at the back of my mind.”

“You’re way too much like your mum sometimes,” said Declan, but he was grinning, and she knew he meant it in a good way. “Okay, study freak. I’ll say goodnight when it’s over.”

“Study freak or genius daughter?”

“Oh, definitely study freak,” said Declan firmly. “You nearly turned down cake!”

India made a face at him and he laughed at her, closing the door softly. She gritted her teeth, pushed her friend’s comment out of the way and was able to get most of it done. By after eleven, however, India’s eyelids were drooping and all she could think about was her remainder of cake. She changed into her pyjamas, packed up her schoolbag and slipped to the kitchen where she fetched her slice of cake. She stood at the counter and licked her finger.

“Midnight feast?”

India nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Dad!" she hissed. "Stop making me jump! Is it even midnight yet?”

“Quarter to.”

“Really?” asked India, her mouth agape.

“I was just going to tell you to pack it in for the night.”

“Was the movie good?”

“It’s not finished yet.”

India and Declan went back to the sitting room and sat down on the sofa. India ate some of her cake, allowing Declan to have some too, and then snuggled up next to him.

“I’m sorry I was grouchy before.”

“You’re a teenager, you’re allowed to be a bit grouchy. I know your assignments stress you out.”

“It wasn’t –“ India caught herself.

“Something else?” asked Declan and India looked down.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” said Declan unsurely.

“It’s a girl thing,” she said quickly.

“I definitely don’t want to know then,” he said, half-joking and India gave a weak smile.

“You can tell me anything though,” he said quickly, seeing her face. “Even if it is a girl thing and I don’t have a clue.”

India smiled and concentrated on the film, and, noting the ridiculous storyline, exclaimed,
“Dad, this movie’s terrible! It’s not even so terrible that it’s funny!”

Declan laughed and put his arm round her.

“Come on, genius daughter,” he said, and India looked up. “Eat your cake.”

“It was chocolate, not Hummingbird cake. Now, that's a cardinal sin," she said firmly and then she grinned, noticing the first part of Declan's sentence. "I’m not a study freak then?” she teased, looking like her mother.

“Well,” he said fondly. “I think you’re both.”

[Bee]

great update, loving this story already Sophie (:

cant wait for more!!

[sophie]

Thanks!

India felt a lot more positive the next day and wondered why she had let herself get so wound up by what her friend had said. Lydia was always making stupid comments. She quickly turned off her shrieking alarm clock and got dressed before quickly pouring herself some cereal.

“Slow down, you’ll choke!” protested Declan as India ate spoonful after spoonful in rapid succession.

“I don’t want to be late,” she protested and she went round the table to give her father a quick hug. “I’ll see you later.”

“All right,” said Declan, as India cleared away her bowl and went to get her bag. “Have a good day and don’t work too hard.”

“Okay,” said India absentmindedly, swinging her bag over her shoulder and giving him a quick kiss. She was halfway out of the door when she remembered something and shouted,
“Love you!”

“Love you too!” called back Declan but she was already gone.

“You’ve done the assignment already?!” exclaimed Lydia in disbelief.

“Not all of it,” said India, her face feeling hot. “I couldn’t do the last couple of questions.”

“I haven’t done any of it! God Indy, why do you always have to put me to shame?”

“I’m not putting you to shame,” said India crossly. “I just wanted it out of the way. How was looking after Luke?”

“Oh, nightmare as usual!” Lydia set off into a long rant and India let her talk, finding herself tune out. It was a rant she had heard many a time with very little variation and India wondered if she would still be able to find a way to complain about her brother when she moved away after school. She didn’t doubt that she would, or that she’d find something else to complain about. Lydia was always complaining.

“...so what do you think? Indy?”

“Huh?” India blinked herself back into reality and Lydia looked confused.

“Are you going to go?”

Lydia had switched topic without her realising and India tried to think of something to say, but then Lydia jumped in with,
“To the party. God, you’re always in a world of your own. Are you going to go?”

India still felt confused for a moment before remembering something at the back of her mind, a mention of a party being held by someone in Year 12 some time ago.

“When is it?”

“Next week.”

“Oh....I think I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy when there’s a party. Why don’t you go?”

“I won’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me. And anyway, you’ll get to know people.”

India made a face.

“I’ll think about it.”

Lydia sighed but then they were at the school and the bell was ringing and they had to run to their morning class. English and History went drearily by, and the fifteen minute recess, and then there was a double maths class where they had moved onto a new area of geometry. India had bit her lip and clenched her protractor, trying to get her brain to wake up and by lunchtime she had a headache and ate her sandwich gratefully out in the yard. Lydia came and sat by her and they ate silently, for once, until Lydia had finished her food and she got bored.

“Look,” she said.

“At what?”

India could only see the other students milling about and Marcus Clod kicking a football, acting like he was God’s gift and thinking it too. Dad had called him her Justin Hunter and, knowing who he was from his stories about school, India felt inclined to agree.

“The guys!”

“What about them?”

Lydia gave her a push.

“What was that for?” she protested, pushing her back.

“It’s half our year out there! Who do you think’s cute?”

“Lydia,” groaned India. “I don’t know. None of them. I hate this game.”

“It’s not a game.”

“Oh come on, you’ve been asking me that since we were twelve and you’ve always got mad at me when I say I don’t know.”

“That’s because you always say you don’t know!”

“Because I’m not into any of them,” protested India. “I never have been!”

“What about Jamie Adler?” asked Lydia slyly, giving her a nudge. Jamie had been India’s first kiss and had ‘gone out’ with her for a week, back when they were twelve, but though they had stayed firm friends since then it had never developed into anything more ever again.

“What about him? He’s my best mate – my best male mate,” India added hastily and, when Lydia opened her mouth smugly, she said fiercely, “and don’t start with all that rubbish about how a boy and girl can’t just be friends because it’s a pile of crap and you know it.”

“Fine,” said Lydia huffily. “But that’s not the case with you and Jamie.”

“Oh, we’ve been friends since we were six!”

“Yeah, and in that time something happened between you.”

“When we were twelve!” India felt frustrated and stood up. “Lydia, I give up on you sometimes, I really do!”

“And I give up on you!” exclaimed Lydia. “Why are you always so weird about this stuff? You’re so oldfashioned!”

“I’m not!” snapped India, hurt. “You’re the one who’s being oldfashioned – acting like I’m some sort of freak for never having a real boyfriend!”

Lydia looked upset and India wondered if she had gone too far.

“I never said that,” she told her. “I just don’t see why you always get angry with me if I ever bring up boys and why you’re always so sensitive about it, especially about Jamie Adler.”

“I’m not sensitive,” snapped India, disliking being made to feel like some sort of character in a Victorian novel. “And I’m not a prude either, if that’s what you meant.”

“I think you have PMS or something,” said Lydia rudely, though India could see that she looked a little startled and hurt. “I’m going to go and talk to Jess – at least she won’t clam up if I ask her who she’d go out with.”

Lydia got up and strode away and India hugged her knees, feeling a little ashamed but still annoyed by her. Boys and fashion – Lydia’s favourite subjects and the ones she had the least to say on. It made you wonder why they were friends sometimes and India reluctantly asked herself why indeed she did feel embarrassed when they brought up boyfriends. Maybe she was some sort of prude after all...no, she wasn’t, she thought firmly. And she definitely did not like Jamie Adler – why couldn’t Lydia get that through her stupid head?

“Anyone sitting here?”

India jumped, not noticing that someone had come over and then jumped again when she saw that it was Jamie.

“No,” she said, feeling her cheeks go crimson and cursing them. Stop going red, stop going red!

“No, what?”

“Huh?”

“No, there’s no one sitting here or no, I can’t sit here?”

“Oh...there’s no one sitting here. You can sit here.”

“Thanks.” Jamie sat down rather ungracefully beside her and stretched. He caught sight of Lydia talking to Jess, looking every now and then their way, and her pointing.

“You two have an argument or something?”

“Oh...sort of. No. It was nothing big. I'll make it up with her later.”

“Why are you friends with her anyway?” asked Jamie bluntly. “Lydia’s such a cow.”

“No, she’s not,” said India loyally.

“She’s always putting you down about stuff.”

“No, she’s not. And how would you know?”

“I see you two together enough times. She always looks like she’s giving you a lecture.”

“Lydia doesn’t lecture.”

“She probably doesn’t have enough braincells,” said Jamie, smirking to himself and India got annoyed and stood up.

“I didn’t let you to sit by me so you could bag out my best friend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And anyway, you know Lydia won the Biology final.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And besides, I remember you going out with Stephanie when we were twelve and still to this day she only wears pink polish specifically on weekends!”

“Jeez, I’m sorry!” Jamie exclaimed and stood up as well. “What’s with you women, you can never just accept an apology!”

“What, you want to wrestle and settle it that way?” asked India sarcastically. “Like when we were six, or like guys do now?”

“I don’t wrestle,” said Jamie uncomfortably.

“Okay, you push each other over then.”

“I’m not going to push you over.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” said India irritably. “I’m not going to go all delicate on you.”

“I’m still not pushing you over.”

“Fine.” India sat back down and hugged her knees again and Jamie sat back down.

“Am I forgiven anyway? Sorry, I know she’s your mate.”

“I suppose. Yeah, mates. We’re mates, I mean.”

“They’re still looking at us,” remarked Jamie and India sighed irritably.

“She’s obsessed with us having a secret romance.”

“Maybe we should pretend to kiss, fuel the fire,” said Jamie. “God knows what kind of gossip she’d spread!”

“Yeah,” said India uncertainly, not sure what he meant and feeling stupid.

“I’m just kidding,” he said quickly.

“Yeah, I know,” said India, grinning. “As if I’d let you near me, anyway.”

“I remember you did once and you didn’t seem to mind!”

“That was when we were twelve!” exclaimed India, getting up and swinging her bag back over her shoulder as the bell began to ring. “God, you’re worse than Lydia!”

“I won’t bag her out anymore if she agrees on how attractive I am,” teased Jamie with a grin. “But I reckon Napier, if I still got you jealous you’d throw another calculator at my head!” and India groaned, shoved him and they both headed for their separate classes with no other arguments, big or small, for the rest of the day.

[kate]

Haha... oh my god romance between her and the cameo character from your last one!

You're really good at writing India. She seems like someone I would be friends with

[Bee]

nice update Sophie (:

cant wait for more!!

[sophie]

Thanks!

Thanks!

The next day was Saturday. India had made up with Lydia on the way home from school, during their walk home. Lydia had marched out of the classroom but India had caught up with her and, after walking in silence for a while, Lydia had finally said,
“I never meant you were a freak.”

“I know.”

“And I wasn’t trying to make you feel weird.”

“I know,” sighed India. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay.”

They walked in silence for a while longer, not being the kind of friends to have hugs and kisses but finally Lydia smirked and said,
“You’re weird without my help,” and India shouted at her, laughing, and knew that she was forgiven. The next day India got up eight, ate a quick breakfast and hurried out. She worked on Saturdays in the local store and she tugged at her shirt slightly as she went; India did not have to wear a uniform but she had to wear something neat and presentable, no jeans allowed, and so she often wore a plain shirt and black trousers. India refused to wear a skirt. The shift went monotonously by; India was working all day and she tried not to count up the hours until the lunch break. Normally she only worked in the mornings or afternoons but someone was ill that week and India agreed to do eight hours, thinking of the money. She stocked some shelves, argued with a customer about the price of some milk and barcoded some new items, unable to help glancing at the clock. Eventually though it was one o’clock and India went to the back of the shop to eat her sandwich with a sigh of relief. She had only taken two bites of her sandwich however when there was a slight tap at the door and she looked up with surprise; she had heard a conversation but had not paid attention to it, assuming it was only a customer talking to her boss, Mr Wheezer, whose name always made India smile. She had a bad feeling that perhaps her lunch break would be cut short and she felt irritable, geared herself up for whatever it was and then opened her mouth with surprise.

“Hello! You’re not happy to see me?”

It was her grandmother, Rebecca, there with a smile and India made room for her to sit down.

“Of course I’m happy! What are you doing here?”

“Well,” said Rebecca, perching awkwardly beside her on the step, “I know my granddaughter works on Saturdays and I thought it would be a nice to treat her after a long day’s work to a milkshake.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m lying, goose! You’re not busy, are you?”

“Of course not, I’d love to,” said India, beginning to grin and she gave Rebecca a hug. “Thanks Grandma!”

“That’s what grandmothers are for,” said Rebecca, cuddling her back. “How much more of your break have you got?”

“Just under an hour. I’ve got this to read after I finish eating,” and India brandished a book she needed to read for English.

“You’re a very hard worker,” commented Rebecca, like her son had the previous night. “Just like your mum!”

India felt awkward suddenly.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down for a moment and playing with her nametag. “It’s a good book anyway.”

“Well, you’re like her in lots of other ways too,” said Rebecca firmly and smiled at her. India tried to return it and then Rebecca gave her another hug and stood up to leave.

“All right. Well, possum, I’ve got to finish my shopping but you finish at half past five, don’t you?”

“That’s right,” said India, grimacing a little. It felt a very long way away.

“I’ll pick you up then. I hope work goes okay.”

“Thanks,” said India, kissing her, and she waved her goodbye and picked up her book.

Though the store was busy and India had a lot of work to do, she could not help thinking about her milkshake and how far away it seemed. Stupid, she scolded herself, it was under four hours, but the clock felt as though it was going backwards. Finally, though, the shoppers drifted away and Mr Wheezer was shutting up shop and handing India a broom. She swept as quickly as she could and then ran to back, hung up her nametag and grabbed her bag, racing out of the back and round to the front of the building where her grandmother was waiting and she hugged her as though she was a little girl. India felt it at times too.

“How was the rest of work?”

“Oh...you know.” India wrinkled her nose. “Work!”

They went into a small cafe and ordered two milkshakes, strawberry for Rebecca and chocolate for India, and began to relax.

“So,” asked Rebecca, taking a sip of her drink. “Anything new at school?”

“Not really,” said India, drinking some of her milkshake too and thinking back. “I had a bit of an argument with Lydia but we made up.”

“You two are always fighting.”

“Not always,” said India defensively. “It wasn’t even an argument really. We just had a disagreement.”

“Ah,” said Rebecca, raising her eyebrows. “I see. What about?”

India felt uncomfortable and wished she had not brought it up.

“Lydia’s a bit of a perv.”

Rebecca burst out laughing and India tried to rectify her comment.

“I mean,” she protested over her grandmother’s laughter, “she’s always asking me what I think of so-and-so and who I’d go out with.”

“Ah,” said Rebecca. “That old game. I remember that at school.”

“And then she got annoyed with me because I said I didn’t know. Because I never know.”

“That’s a strange thing to get annoyed about.”

“Well,” said India, feeling her cheeks go hot, “it wasn’t just that. I guess I got a bit defensive. I might have accused her of calling me a freak and a prude.”

“I see.”

“She didn’t though,” said India, looking down and feeling ashamed. “I overreacted. It just made me feel that way because it always makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” sighed India. “It just does. Maybe I am a prude.”

“You’re not a prude.”

“Anyway,” said India, wishing to steer the subject away from how she felt towards boys, with her grandmother especially, “why does it always come back to that with her anyway? She’s so obsessed.”

“It’s not unusual India, in some girls. Doesn’t she talk about anything else?”

“Fashion and makeup,” said India gloomily. “Something else I have nothing to say on!”

“I’m sure it’s a phase,” said Rebecca comfortingly. “The boy thing.”

“She’s been at it since we were twelve. She’s my best mate though,” said India quickly, beginning to feel like she was badmouthing her. “We’ve been friends since we were six. Oh, that’s something else. She reckons I’m in love with Jamie just because he’s my best male friend.”

“Didn’t you kiss him once?”

“Yes,” said India grumpily. “Years ago. Lydia won’t let it go!”

That seemed to close the subject and they drank in silence for a while and then Rebecca asked,
“Any more news?”

“Lydia wants me to go to a party with her but I said no.”

“Why?” Rebecca took a sip of her milkshake.

“I hate parties,” said India uncomfortably. “I went to one last year and it was just a heap of drunken idiots – Dad doesn’t know about that, by the way!” she added hastily, “and a choice of Truth or Dare or Spin the Bottle.”

“And which did you play?” asked Rebecca wickedly.

“Neither,” said India hotly. “Well, I tried Truth or Dare. They dared me to take my bra off, so I did, but I didn’t take my shirt off and I stuffed my bra in my pocket. Then they dared me to take my shirt off and I wouldn’t do that so I hid in the bathroom until it was time to go. It was pretty pathetic – of me, I mean.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I know they were pathetic. I don’t want to go one of those parties like that again.”

“You don’t know it will be like that,” said Rebecca gently.

“I reckon it was pretty standard.”

“Lydia’s going, isn’t she? You’d have a friend there. When is it?”

“Next Friday. I’d have to be up early anyway, Mr Wheezer wouldn’t be too impressed if I was falling asleep all over the shop.”

“You’d have to go early anyway.”

“As if Dad wouldn’t set me a curfew!”

“Exactly. India, if anything makes you feel uncomfortable you can always call one of us and we’ll be there in no time.”

India was silent.

“If you really, really, really don’t want to go then don’t,” said Rebecca, taking her hand. “Because it won’t be worth it. But I don’t think one bad party should put you off the rest. You shouldn’t miss out on experiences because you’re nervous.”

India was thoughtful and took a long drink of shake.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “How’s that?”

“More than good,” said Rebecca, giving her a quick kiss.

“What kind of grandmother are you, anyway?” laughed India as they got up to leave. “Talking me into teenage parties and being rebellious!”

“An unusual one!”

“The best,” said India fondly. “As well as Nan. Oh,” she said, stopping.

“What?”

“Dad will kill you for corrupting me!” exclaimed India and Rebecca laughed, put her arm around her and they walked like that the rest of the way home.

[Bee]

awesome update, i love the relationship that India and Rebecca have in this, you've written it so well Sophie!

cant wait for more!

[sophie]

Thanks!

When they got back, however, India did not mention the party to her father or the possibility of her going to it, and nor did her grandmother. Instead they talked about work and the difficult customers and how the clock had felt like it was going back at one point.

“It always feels like that,” said Declan with an experienced air. “But I liked it when your mum worked.”

“Why?”

“Because she worked at the gym,” reminded her father with a faraway smile. “And I went there a lot so we could be with each other when I was training.”

“Distracting each other,” corrected Rebecca, taking a piece of bread. “Honestly, I practically had to drag you away sometimes. You should have seen him, India.”

“It wasn’t distracting, it was helping the time pass,” protested Declan and Rebecca scoffed, but India saw a sad look in his eyes.
“I miss it,” he confessed. “I miss those days.”

There was a short silence and India wanted to say something to break it, but couldn’t think what, when Rebecca did so for her.

“Well,” she said, “who’s for coffee?”

“I’ll make it,” volunteered India after her father nodded, and she hurried to the kitchen and looked over her shoulder to see her grandmother putting a comforting arm around her father, who still had a sad look in his eyes. India turned back and concentrated on making the coffee. She felt guilty for what felt like running away but she never knew what to say when her father felt sad about her mother. She missed Bridget too, in her own way, but India could not remember her. All she had were pictures and stories and a diary and a long, wistful longing for her which was barely there on some days and painfully acute on others but Bridget had been the woman her dad had loved more than anyone in the world and when he thought about her he always went quiet and to have her wrenched from him must have been more than anyone could bear. Somehow he had got through it and though he had always told his daughter about her and encouraged India to ask about Bridget, India couldn’t help feeling guilty for doing so at times because remembering her made her father sad, even though he smiled and laughed when he thought of her and India felt in a way that she failing him, failing herself, by having no words of comfort even though she tried so hard to have some.

“Need a hand?”

India jumped. Rebecca had come in without her noticing.

“Thanks.”

She finished pouring the water into the mugs and was wondering if her father was still feeling upset when suddenly Rebecca asked,
“Any more thoughts about the party?”

India shrugged.

“It could be fun.”

India shrugged again.

“Are you okay?” asked Rebecca anxiously. “You’ve gone very quiet.”

“Just tired from work,” said India, trying to sound upbeat.

“All right,” said Rebecca, though she did not sound very convinced. Rebecca still had that knack of knowing when one of her children, or grandchildren, was not being entirely truthful and she tilted her head to the side slightly and looked at India, making her feel guilty.

“I hope I wasn’t pressuring you,” she said finally, guessing the wrong thing. “Indy, if you don’t want to go to the party don’t go just for me. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with and I certainly don’t want you to have a miserable time.”

“It’s not that,” said India quickly. “I really am just tired.”

“All right then,” said Rebecca, but she still sounded suspicious and picked up one of the mugs. “Come on then, possum,” and India smiled properly this time. Possum was her grandmother’s petname for her which she had used since India was a baby. India wondered if Bridget would have called her any silly little names as well, if she had thought of any, and quickly picked up the mugs herself, trying not to feel sad either.

“Let’s drink these before they go cold.”

Rebecca stayed for a few hours and India watched her father closely. He seemed happier, laughing at his mother’s jokes and teasing his daughter and soon India was laughing herself, her anxieties forgotten as they wondered about Rachel and how she was getting on in London and how they were looking forward to seeing Donna, who would be coming over in just two short weeks.

“But it feels like ages,” said India gloomily.

“It’ll go by in no time,” said Rebecca firmly, patting her hand. “Right. Well, thank you both for a wonderful evening. See you tomorrow for lunch?”

“Oh, Mum you don’t need to ask that! We’ve seen you for Sunday lunch since Indy was a baby!”

“Well, you might have made plans,” protested Rebecca, sighing at her son making an exasperated face. “And don’t look at me like that young man, there’s no harm in double checking. What kind of example are you setting?”

“The example that it’s dumb to double check plans which haven’t been changed since forever!”

“You’ve changed them whenever we see Miranda and Steve,” said Rebecca triumphantly, ignoring Declan who began to open his mouth to argue with her. “So there.”

India giggled at them. You could tell they were mother and son even if you didn't know already.

“Any more plans for this evening?” Rebecca asked, pulling her in for a hug.

“Nothing really. Maybe some studying.”

“Studying?” exclaimed Rebecca. “After your day? Why not just veg out with a movie?”

“I have so much work!”

“My daughter, the study freak,” commented Declan. “Still, I’m glad you’re more like that than a big party animal.”

Rebecca gave India a knowing smile and then bid them goodnight. They waved her off as she drove away and Declan turned to her.

“Feel like watching the footy highlights?”

“Pass,” said India, wrinkling her nose. “I’m going to get started.”

“Study freak!” teased her father again but India ignored him and went to her room and got out her books, but she couldn’t concentrate.

“Mum,” she said, picking up Bridget’s photo. “Should I go to the party?”

She looked at her mother but nothing seemed to clear her mind. India felt confused. On the one hand she very much did not want to go to the party and if she had been asked just that morning she would have turned it down instantly, but now she felt less certain. She supposed it could be fun – though that was a big could be – and did she just want to be a study freak, as her father so affectionately called her? India wasn’t big on the social scene but she liked having a good time, and even if she didn’t like parties maybe her grandmother was right – she should try and not be put off by the one bad one. She wasn’t scared, was she? Bridget wouldn’t be.

There was a knock at the door and she jumped.

“Sorry,” said Declan. “I wondered if you were sure you didn’t want to watch TV.”

He looked at India and noticed the picture in her hand and gave her a slightly sad smile.

“I love that picture,” he told her. It was the one Harry Ramsay had taken of Bridget, without her even knowing it.

“Me too.” India looked at it.

“Hey, forget the footy highlights,” he said suddenly. “How about we watch some videos of your mum?”

“Oh, but you were looking forward to the footy.”

“I watched the match earlier and besides, I’d rather see your mum anyday.”

It wasn’t really seeing her, but neither said so. India hesitated and then got up.

“Okay.”

They went to the sitting room and her father slid in a DVD and they laughed at Bridget, mucking about in the school playground and being a dag. India looked at him, to see if he looked sad again when he caught her eye and put his arm around her.

“Dad, are you okay?” she asked suddenly.

“Of course I am,” he said in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

India shrugged.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, turning his question around but Declan had an answer.

“I know you miss her,” he said gently and then India felt sad herself.

“I know you do too,” she said tentatively, worried about upsetting him but Declan simply looked at the screen.

“I like watching the videos,” he said in way of answer.

“Me too.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence. The video ended.

“Let’s watch another one,” she said and Declan quickly changed the DVD.

“Did Mum call me any names?” she asked as they watched Bridget play with baby India. "Petnames?"

“No,” said Declan thoughtfully. “None that I can remember. I think she just called you her baby, and Tadpole of course.”

“Oh yeah.”

“I think she called you her bush baby once,” said Declan, thinking back. “Because you were born out in the bush.”

“Am I like her?” asked India suddenly.

“In lots of ways,” said Declan. “Though, and I never thought I’d say this, I think you’d give her a run for her money on the studying front. Even Didge didn’t work as hard as you, Indy!”

“Oh,” said India, not sure if it was a compliment or criticism, and she considered asking but changed her mind.

“I’m going to bed,” she said quickly, a little too quickly, but Declan felt fifty miles away, too swept up in his memories of Bridget to notice.

“All right,” he said absentmindedly and India left him with the video and washed and changed into her pyjamas.

“Do you think I’m like you?” she mumbled to the picture of Bridget, closed her eyes and fell asleep with it still in her hand.

[Bee]

good update sophie (: cant wait for more!!

[sophie]

Thanks!


The rest of the weekend passed quickly by. India finished her assignments, went for lunch at Rebecca’s and read more of her book for English. She lay on the bed with her feet curled up and held the book in one hand, trying to concentrate. The pillows were comfortable and India allowed herself to close her eyes for a second.

“Indy?”

India’s eyes snapped open; she had been taken by surprise. Declan was in the doorway holding the phone.

“It’s Nan.”

India jumped off the bed and grabbed the phone.

“Nan!”

“Hello, darling,” came her grandmother’s voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” India smiled and took the phone back the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Just reading a book for English.”

“Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“No, don’t be silly. How are you and Grandpa Steve?”

“Oh, we’re fine,” came Miranda’s voice, all the way from Queensland. “Not too much to report – Riley and Marie came over for dinner last night with Little Bridget.”

“How are they?” India loved hearing about her uncle and cousin.

“They’re fine too. Bridget’s so clever – she can already read and write a little and she isn’t starting school for another year!”

India could tell how proud Miranda was and she imagined her flushed and smiling as she said it.

“That’s great,” she told her, grinning herself. “Give her a big hug and kiss from me.”

“Oh, I will. She’s so clever. Taking after namesake, I think.”

“Mum would be impressed,” agreed India, feeling a small prick of sadness.

“You know, you were very clever too, India. You started reading long before school.”

“I can’t remember not being able to read. I still reckon Little Bridget will be more clever than me.”

“Oh, now don’t put yourself down,” said Miranda, going into a motherly mode. “I know how hard you work at school.”

“Thanks.” India paused, unsure of what to say and then added, “I just like getting it done.”

“Well, it’s a good approach. You can relax now. Anything fun lined up?”

“Oh...not really. I might go to a party.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“I don’t know if I’ll go yet,” said India quickly. “My friend’s going, that’s all. I haven’t mentioned it to Dad.”

“Worried he’ll hit the roof?” asked Miranda knowingly and India laughed.

“Well, that too. I just don’t know if I want to go or not.”

“If you do go, have a wonderful time. And don’t worry about Declan – your dad, I mean. He’ll be fine.”

“All right.”

They talked a little longer and then hung up. India put the phone down and hugged her knees. Maybe she would go, after all.

On Monday morning India went to school, gave in her work and listened patiently to Lydia during recess about what she would wear on Friday night. She had looked forward to the break where she wouldn’t have to listen to anything and would be able to relax, but that was snatched away as Lydia asked her advice during the entire fifteen minutes and India tried in vain to take an interest, before finally getting frustrated.

“Lydia, I don’t know,” she said in exasperation after being asked if she would choose a skirt in pink or lilac. “I’m hardly a style guru!”

“You don’t need to get moody. Come on, it’s your duty of a best friend to give me clothes advice!”

“But I don’t know anything about fashion!”

“I know that,” agreed Lydia, honestly if not kindly. “But I need an opinion. There’s going to be boys from Year 12!”

“Lydia,” said India patiently. “If I give you an answer do you promise to drop it?”

“Yes.”

“I would never wear a skirt,” said India. “Because I hate skirts. And I would never wear pink because I hate that too. But you like skirts and your favourite colour is pink so I don’t see the dilemma. Wear the pink skirt, because if it was given to me, I would give it to you.”

Lydia paused thoughtfully and, over her shoulder, India saw Jamie Adler raising his eyebrows at her. She raised hers slightly and then turned back to her friend.

“I guess,” said Lydia slowly. “But the latest edition of my fashion magazine said lilac was better for blondes and I’m a blonde.”

“So wear the lilac one.”

“But I prefer pink.”

India couldn’t take it anymore and stood up.

“That’s exactly what I said to you!” she exclaimed. “You love pink so wear the pink! Who cares what the magazine says – the boys from Year 12 won’t have read it!”

“You just don’t understand fashion,” said Lydia patronisingly, picking up her magazine and India stopped her.

“I don’t want to read it!”

The bell was ringing already and students were filing back in.

“Great,” sighed India. “That’s the end of recess.”

“India Napier, what are you going to do if you ever need clothes advice?”

India just raised her eyebrows at her and walked ahead, ignoring Lydia’s smug expression and went in for her class, allowing herself to forget about the party, until lunch that was, when Jamie sat beside her.

“I saw Lydia harassing you.”

“She wasn’t harassing me...well.” India frowned and bit into her cheese sandwich. “She just asking about clothes.”

“You?” asked Jamie in disbelief and India grinned.

“I did tell her I wasn’t a style guru.”

“I’ll say,” commented Jamie, leaning back on one arm. “Jeez Napier, you couldn’t dress a scarecrow!”

India felt annoyed and put down her sandwich.

“There’s a difference between knowing how to dress and not giving a stuff about fashion,” she said hotly. “I know the difference between a potato sack and a shirt.”

“Sorry,” said Jamie, but his eyes were still twinkling. “What was it for anyway?”

“A party. She can’t decide what to wear and has only just given up on asking me.”

“Why would she ask you?” asked Jamie, starting to laugh again. “You wouldn’t go to a party if they paid you.”

“Why wouldn’t I go to a party?” asked India in a cold voice.

“Because you like your books,” said Jamie, not noticing India getting annoyed. “And, you know, you hate all that, no one would expect you go to one.”

“Oh, wouldn’t they?” snapped India. Jamie noticed that and sat up.

“What?” he asked. “You never go to parties!”

“I could go to a party if I wanted to,” said India angrily.

“But you don’t want to, you’re such a hermit. I mean,” said Jamie quickly, seeing the steely glint in India’s eyes, “you don’t like all that stuff. You think it’s lame!”

“I am not a hermit!” said India, her eyes flashing.

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean!” yelped Jamie, realising the poor choice of words all too late. “You’ve always said that you could never be one of those massive party freaks and that it’s dumb...I mean,” he said, trying desperately to make a joke and giggling nervously, “the day you help Lydia get dressed for a party and go to one yourself is the day a pig flies by!”

There was a short, stony silence and Jamie’s giggles petered out as he saw that his joke was seriously not appreciated. India lost her temper.

“For your information, Jamie Adler,” she said furiously, “I am going to the party on Friday night and I am going to help Lydia get dressed and I will not look anything close to a scarecrow! Whoops, watch out for that flying pig!”

“Oh – come on!” yelled Jamie as she stamped away. “You know I didn’t mean that!”

But it all fell on deaf ears as India marched towards the girls’ toilets. So that was what he thought of her was it...some sort of weird hermit girl who couldn’t put a shirt on the right way?

“You’re coming?”

India jumped. She had been so caught up in her angry musings that she hadn’t noticed Lydia falling into step with her.

“What?”

“I heard you arguing,” she said, sounding rather happy. “And you shouted that you were coming to the party after all and help me choose clothes! Oh, I’m so happy!”

She gave India a quick hug.

“Oh yeah,” said India guiltily, wishing that she hadn’t snapped so loudly. She had only said it all to contradict Jamie, she hadn’t actually been sure she had meant it...but then why not? she thought suddenly. Everyone was right, she should go, even her grandmother thought so, and maybe it would show Jamie that she could have as much fun as anyone else, weird study freak though she might be.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” said Lydia gleefully. “Oh, Indy, we’re going to have a great time! I can’t believe you talked your dad round too!”

“Oh...” said India, seeing the hurdle. “That.”

“Whose party is it?” demanded Declan, mashing potatoes for their dinner.

“A girl in Year 12.”

“Year 12?” echoed Declan in disbelief. “But you’re only in Year 11!”

“Well, Dad, sometimes boys and girls have friend who are a little older than them,” said India cheekily and Declan pointed the potato masher at her.

“Oi, Miss, don’t you be sarcastic or you’re not going at all. Now, whose party is it?”

“Sally Andrews’ I think.”

“You’re not going unless you know, and you’re not going unless you give me her address, home number and I get a full assurance that she does not take drugs or drink.”

“Dad!”

“Is that a deal?”

“Yes,” sighed India. “And don’t worry, she doesn’t take drugs. Loves her whisky though. Joke!” she added quickly, as Declan narrowed her eyes at her.

“And I’d pick you up at ten.”

“Ten?” echoed India. “Come on Dad, be reasonable!”

“Quarter past ten.”

“Eleven.”

“Half past ten.”

“Eleven!”

“Quarter to eleven,” said Declan firmly. “Final offer.”

“Oh, okay,” sighed India and she looked in the pan. “Dad, those potatoes are a pulp!”

“I thought you didn’t want lumps?”

“I said no lumps, not no potato!” said India, but she smiled and got out the plates.

“She wants to go to some party,” said Declan that evening, after he thought India was asleep. He had phoned Rebecca for some quick parental advice.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“She told me about it. I said she should go.”

“You what?” exclaimed Declan, forgetting to be quiet. “Why?!”

“Declan, she’s nearly seventeen years old. She should go out and have fun.”

“Have fun? Do you know what goes on at those parties? I do. They play drinking games and experiment with drugs and there’s dozens of teenage boys full of hormones.”

“Oh Declan, don’t be ridiculous. India’s a sensible girl.”

“Yeah, but what if she gets talked into something?”

“India knows not to get drunk or take drugs.”

“I didn’t mean necessarily that.”

“Oh Declan, you are overreacting. India is not going to say yes to some random bloke at a party, give your daughter some credit.”

“Mum, there’s heaps of sensible kids who go to parties like that and get into trouble, you know what peer pressure’s like!”

“Declan, I love that you’re protective of her but sometimes you are dangerously close to smothering her.”

“I am not smothering!” exclaimed Declan, forgetting to be quiet again.

“You’re coming close to it. India’s a good girl, she has a friend with her and she’s not going to do anything she doesn’t want to do. If she gives you the girl’s address and number and knows who she is I can’t see any good reason for her not to go. India won’t be staying long anyway if she has work in the morning.”

There was a brief silence.

“I suppose,” he said unwillingly. “I just don’t want her to get caught up in something she doesn’t want to do. But I guess you’re right. I don’t want to lock her up and throw away the key.”

“That’s my boy,” said Rebecca admiringly. “Now go and get some sleep, it’s getting late.”

“Yes, Mum,” said Declan dutifully.

“She’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Goodnight, Mum.”

“Goodnight, darling. And don’t worry so much.”

“I’ll try,” sighed Declan, still holding the phone after he had hung up, and couldn’t help feeling that that was one those things that was easier said than done.

[Bee]

great update Sophie, i love India and Declan's relationship as a father and daughter!

cant wait for more!

[sophie]

Thanks!


Friday night came at long last and Lydia came round at six with a bag of clothes. India was looking in the mirror, nervously brushing her hair. It didn’t look right and she half considered pulling out before it was too late but then there was a knock at the door and Lydia was coming in.

“You can wear these,” she said bossily, emptying the bag on the bed. India raised her eyebrows.

“You can put away the dresses and skirts for a start.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, Lydia, we have to wear a dress every day at school and that’s bad enough, I am not wearing one in my freetime.”

“A skirt then.

“No.”

“But –“

“No,” said India firmly and Lydia shut her mouth.

“I’ll wear this top if you let up,” she said, fishing through the pile and coming up with a black one with a V-cut.

“Very nice,” said Lydia approvingly. “Even if it is black! Here, let me do your makeup. Oh, just a bit of mascara...now...what should I wear?”

A very long half-hour later and the two emerged. Declan and Rebecca were waiting on the sofa.

“You look beautiful,” said Rebecca proudly, snapping a photo and India smiled shyly. “And is that eyeliner?”

“I had to fight to get it on her,” said Lydia and India had to stop herself from wiping it off with her hand. Instead she turned to her father who was frowning.

“That top’s a bit lowcut,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” said India irritably. “It’s pretty modest next to what some of the other girls are wearing!”

“It doesn’t look that modest to me!”

“Look,” said India in frustration, “I’ll put my jumper over it, okay?”

Declan frowned and India said quickly,
“If we don’t go now we’ll be late!”

“I’ll warm up the car,” said Lydia quickly, who could already drive, and she hurried outside, and Rebecca went to go and get some water. Declan took the opportunity to give his daughter advice, or as India, called it, to lecture her.

“Okay. Have a great time but I want you to remember some things.”

Here it comes, thought India.

“I’d rather you didn’t drink at all,” said Declan sternly, “but if you do, don’t get drunk.”

“Dad!”

“And don’t leave your drink for a second,” said Declan, ignoring India’s exclamation. “I mean it. And don't accept a lift home from anyone unless it’s from Lydia but you are not getting in her car even if she’s had just one drink.”

“As if Lydia would drink drive!”

“I’m just saying. And I know you wouldn’t try any drugs but if you do I promise to ground you for the next five centuries, are we clear?”

“I wouldn’t touch drugs!”

“And if a boy tries something, you don’t have to go along with it,” said Declan doggedly.

“I know,” said India, feeling embarrassed.

“I know you know, I’m just reminding you. But if he does try something, tell me his name so I can go and buy a baseball bat!”

“Dad, that’s not funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” Declan paused as India rolled her eyes and then said quickly, “And if you do...do something be safe.”

“DAD!” exclaimed India, incensed. “That’s it, lecture time over. We are never discussing this again!”

“I have to tell you that!”

“I wouldn’t, anyway,” said India, red with embarrassment. “You know I wouldn’t!”

“I know that teenage boys can be persuasive,” said Declan. “And I know that you can be talked into things – well, not you specifically, just anyone – you know what I mean.”

“I would not be talked into that,” said India, still feeling horribly embarrassed. “And of course I’d be safe...” her voice trailed off and she stared at the floor, Lydia’s honk from outside saving her.

“That’s me ready,” she said quickly, leaning up and giving her father a kiss, and Rebecca came out with her glass.

“Your carriage awaits? Have an amazing time, darling.”

“I will,” said India, giving her a quick hug and then pulling her jumper on and picking up her bag. “Bye guys.”

“I’m picking you up at quarter to eleven,” reminded Declan.

“I know. I’m coming!” she called, as another honk came as she ran outside and Rebecca put an arm around her son.

“She’ll be home in no time.”

“I know,” said Declan, staring at the door. “I know.”

The party was in full swing and the music was on full blast. From surveying the room India could see one or two drinking games and cheering for someone to down his pint and one or two couples kissing passionately on the couch. India suddenly felt out of place and wanted to go back, feeling shy, when Lydia grabbed her arm.

“Let’s go and get a drink,” she said loudly into India’s ear and she nodded, and the two headed off. It was hot in the room and India took off her jumper and put it on the sofa before following Lydia to the kitchen who poured them each a glass of lemonade.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from her, but as she did so Lydia grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured a shot in.

“Lydia!” exclaimed India.

“Oh come on, you hardly ever drink. And I can’t drink anyway, you know I have to drive back, so you can do it for both of us.”

“I don’t really like alcohol...”

“There’s barely any in your glass, you won’t get drunk from that!”

India grimaced but she picked it up.

“Okay, but no more.”

“Cheers,” said Lydia, and they clinked their glasses. India took a sip and found Lydia was right – she could barely taste it at all.

“Let’s go and dance,” said Lydia and India followed her friend to the main room. Lydia grabbed her arms, twirled her around and India found herself laughing – it wasn’t so bad after all. Jamie didn’t know what he was saying. She danced for a little while and caught the eye of a boy standing across the room staring at her. She gave him a small smile and went back to dancing, but when she snuck a glance again he was still staring. She stared back and eventually he looked away and went to talk to one of his friends. India carried on dancing with Lydia when suddenly the music stopped and everyone groaned.

“Sorry,” said a boy sheepishly. “The speakers are faulty.”

There was another loud groan and then a silence which eventually petered out as people gradually started talking again and conversation filled the room as the poor boy tried to fix the speakers, red in the face.

“I know,” shouted a girl suddenly. “Everyone do shots until the music comes back on!”

Some people cheered in agreement and Lydia gave India a quizzical look.

“No way.”

“Oh come on, just do one. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t like shots!”

“You’ve never tried them!”

“Oh, okay, just one,” sighed India. “But you can’t tell Dad.”

“As if I would,” said Lydia, grinning, and she handed India a shot glass of tequila. As she lifted the glass she saw the boy from before and then quickly downed the liquid on the count of three. It burnt the back of her throat and she put the glass down, coughing.

“You’ll never be a drinker!” laughed Lydia and India spluttered,
“That’s fine by me. I’m getting some water.”

“All right,” said Lydia, wandering off to talk to someone and India headed to the kitchen. She got some water and sipped at it until the taste went away, before finally putting the glass down and glancing at the clock. It was already quarter past ten and behind her she heard the music start up again with some cheering from the guests. India refilled her glass with lemonade and went back outside, looking for Lydia, but couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Have you seen Lydia?” she asked loudly to a girl she had seen her talk to before, whose name she could not recall.

“She’s gone to the bathroom!” the girl shouted back.

“Okay,” said India, and she stood and watched everyone for a while, but Lydia seemed to be taking her time. Probably reapplying all of her makeup and Lydia had a lot of it. India decided to go and talk to her and turned towards the stairs, when suddenly she felt a hand on her arm. It was the boy from before.

“How about a dance?”

“I’m going to see my friend.”

“She’s only upstairs. Just one dance?”

India didn’t like the look of him much but she supposed one dance wouldn’t hurt. She wasn’t agreeing to anything else.

“Oh, okay.”

They moved into the front room where a slightly slow song was playing and India felt like a cliché, only most girls in those stories were falling in love with the boys they were dancing with and this one she barely knew, and certainly did not love. He pulled her closer to him so India could smell his breath.

“I’m Jye.”

“That’s nice.”

“What’s your name?”

“India.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re sexy,” said Jye. India didn’t really know what to say to that so she gave him a small smile and kept dancing. Jye tried to pull her closer and she distanced herself slightly and concentrated on the music, but was acutely aware of his hand that was gradually going lower and lower down her back, until finally she grabbed it and put it firmly in the centre of her back.

“Come on,” said Jye, moving his hand down and India started to wrench away.

“No. I’m not looking for that.”

“Come on!”

“Get off me!” shrieked India, pushing his hands away, but he gripped her arms suddenly and India suddenly felt frightened, trying to push him off but he was holding her hands. India was looking around the room but no one seemed to have noticed them but then someone was there.

“She said no!” said the someone and India looked up and it was another boy and he was pushing the first one away.

“We were only dancing,” said Jye defensively.

“Didn’t look like that to me,” growled the first boy. “You stay the hell away from her.”

He slouched away to the other side of the room.

“Thanks,” said India gratefully. She suddenly felt sick.

“Do you want to go outside? Get some air?”

“I don’t know about that,” said India suspiciously.

“I didn’t mean anything like that...you just look like you could use some fresh air.”

“Okay,” said India, still not feeling entirely trustworthy. “Let me tell my friend.”

She found Lydia gossiping with a girl from the year above, having finally come back downstairs.

“Lydia,” she said quietly, “I’m just going outside with that guy.”

India pointed him out and Lydia’s mouth hung open.

“Not like that,” said India quickly. “I just want some air. But if I’m not back in five minutes come and get me.”

“All right, Indy,” said Lydia. “If you say so!”

India gave her her worst look and hurried out. There weren’t many other people outside and it was a clear night. They went and sat on a small wall by a tree.

“I’m Elliot,” said the guy, holding out his hand and India shook it.

“India.”

“Are you in school?”

“Year 11. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“I left last year.”

“Oh,” said India, feeling stupid. “That would explain it.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Oh. I’m seventeen in two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

“I dunno.” India wrinkled her nose. “Not really. A little, I guess.”

“I guess they get less exciting when you get older.”

“I guess.” India paused and then said, “Thanks for helping me out before.”

“That guy was a jerk.”

“You didn’t have to come over.”

“Yes I did!”

“I had it under control, you know.”

“What would you have done?”

“Kneed him.”

He laughed, but not in a mocking way, and India grinned herself. Maybe it was the drinks she had had that was making it easy but she felt confident and not stupid at all. She’d never have imagined an easy conversation with a guy she didn’t know.

“Or screamed,” added India. “I guess either would have worked – but thanks for coming,” she said again gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” he said and they smiled.

“Are you cold?” asked Elliot suddenly, as a breeze blew. “Do you want my jacket?”

“No, I have my jumper.” India looked round for it and then remembered it was inside. “I’ll go and get it.”

But then, suddenly, the night sky was interrupted by a honk of a horn – and that horn belonged to her father’s car, India realised in horror. It was quarter to eleven and she was outside with a boy with no jumper, which she had promised to wear, and she knew how it looked.

“I’ve got to go!” she shouted, jumping up. “That’s my dad!”

She ran inside but could not see her jumper, the sofas swarmed with people and she couldn’t remember which one she had left it on, she heard her father’s horn again and gave up, seeing Lydia, she shouted a goodbye and ran fullpelt to her father’s car, leaping into the seat.

“Sorry,” she panted, red in the face and Declan frowned.

“Who was that boy?”

“I don’t know,” she said and he frowned again.

“Where’s your jumper?”

“I don’t know,” said India again and then Declan started exclaiming at her.

“Lydia will find it!” she exclaimed. “Look, I’m sorry!”

Declan sighed, started the car and India looked out of the window, not listening to his muttered complaints. Elliot was still outside, leaning against a wall and he smiled at her and waved his hand in farewell.