~ Chapter 2 ~

The sweet smell of evening dew is replaced by the course stench of cigarette smoke imbedded into the bistro carpets along with the distant odour of stale beer and cheap perfume. Small iridescent globes hang on thin wires from the dirty grey ceiling illuminating the dark room. Wonky square tables sit randomly covering the main dining area with too many seats crowded around their sides. Square, rectangular and the occasional circular plates and platers are filled with greasy food, or sit stacked precariously, one on top of another, ready to fall. Children no older than six or seven years of age play foolish games of 'chasings' while their younger siblings are fed from their mother's breast.Their father's are orderly queued by the ordering bench or at the bar juggling orders, plates, cutlery and the occasional beer for themselves'. Elder siblings sit antisocially by their bags with video games in their hands or if they are lucky enough, their thumbs moving swiftly over a mobile phone keyboard. These are the young families, with children who have not reached their teenage years.

 

Elderly couples sit to the edges of the facility. They talk in hushed tones and try to ignore the uproar of the "new generation". A glass of wine sits untouched by the woman's hand, and the latest photo album of the beloved grandchildren lays open in front of her. She fumbles with the silver cutlery and her husband grumbles about there not being "enough of salt in the soup". They receive glares and sideways glances from the waiters and waitresses as they rush bowls back and forth to the kitchen. But go by relatively unnoticed.

 

There is bunch of loud mouthed teenagers loitering in the back corner of the bistro. They are almost hidden from immediate sight by felt pool tables, poker machines and the outstretched bar. Although most of them are not yet of legal age to be in this part of the formally known "pub" they seem not to cause any attention and the authorities ignore them. A couple of young men with a wad full of cash line up at the bar ordering drinks for the underage majority, but nobody suspects anything. It is in this direction that Chris leads me, taking my hand he drags me behind him as he high-tails it to corner, as if on the sly.

 

Here I'm surrounded by a mob of teenage boys maybe a year or two older than myself. I have not met them before and I don’t believe they attend my school, however they look familiar so I know they must be from this area. Cracking dirty jokes amongst themselves they turn to face me, their eyes wide and inquisitive.

"So who is this beautiful girl I see standing before me?" the boy in front of me gestures sarcastically removing his baseball cap and snorting. I feel my breathe catch in my throat and I try utter "hi" but Chris interjects.

"Mate, she's mine, don't bother".

"Oh really? So look who's finally settled down! What's the pretty face's name?"

I can hear Chris try and summon the courage to stay calm as his 'mate' mocks his love life, but I'm almost certain he'll disregard introducing me and move on into the group to avoid the embarrassment of dating a girl named after a bellybutton. So, without hesitation I grab his arm and lead him over to some of the other kids I recognize from school.

 

They must find it unusual to see a 'good' kid like me out at the pub on a school night, but if they do they hide their surprise well. Well enough till they notice who I'm with. Then, all hell breaks loose. At first its just few of Chris's "ex what-ever they are's" but soon it turns into World War III. Instead of gunshots and atom bombs; stares, whispers and glances are shot.

How on earth did the class geek with the out-of-date fashion get him?
Why would the coolest guy in the town go out with such a low-life?
It must have been a dare or something.
It must have been a dare.
A dare.

A dare.

 

The words keep whirring around me, clouding my thoughts. Everyone  seems to be whispering or pointing, questioning whether I could actually land a date with Chris. Everyone seems to think it was some sort of practical joke, that it was impossible for Chris to love me, or even like me.

My eyes keep involuntarily flicking from Chris who had now left to buy drinks, to the door. I can feel my heart pumping doubly as fast in my throat, sweat pouring from my forehead and back, my palms damp and shaking. Every second seems to last forever. I am sitting alone in the middle of a hurricane, watching the world around me tear me apart.

 

If a guy I had known since the age of five doesn't like me, what chance do I have with a guy I barely know? What chance do I have making a good first or second impression when as soon as I walk into a bistro I am shot down with queer stares?

 

I have no chance. I may aswell just give up.

 

"Here, drink this" Chris's large hand hands me a goblet full of an orangey-pink liquid. It smells fruity with a hint of almond essence and strongly of alcohol. Against my better judgement I take the fluid from him with a greatful smile, and guzzle it down as quickly as I can.

 

At first, it's only my tongue burning as though I had just ripped off all the tastebuds with a burning hot steal iron, but within seconds the sensation travels down my throat, making me gag uncontrollably. My head is spinning as my whole body seems to be on fire, pins and needles penetrating my fingertips and toes. I stare blankly out of my glazed over eyes, watching dozens of people I don't know laugh at me as though I had just done the most stupid thing in my life and I know it was wrong. I had just done the most stupid thing in my life. It was wrong.

Author's Note

Let me know how I'm going please!

Reviews

[Lozzie]

And thats why you don't have alcohol :) Lesson learnt Inny >:(

Anyway... Well writen Ally!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Felicity's Eve]

Aww... the poor girl. :(

This was a great chapter and your plot is coming along nicely. ^^

[Alekaneka]

Thank you!

[Felicity's Eve]

:)