The Party (A
Guardian’s Wyrd short story)
by Nerine Dorman
Also available on bookly via Mxit
“This is a
very bad idea,” I told Rowan as we plodded up Andrews Road. The Hill from Hell
I liked to call it. My calf muscles were screaming.
There was
enough moonlight for me to see Rowan’s grimace. “This party means a lot to me,”
he said.
“I don’t
care,” I said. “And I don’t see why you’re invited to parties all of a sudden.”
My friend
was the class geek, the one who was the butt end of all the pranks and teasing
whenever I wasn’t there to look out for him.
“Angela
invited me,” he said.
“Are you
sure?” Knowing Rowan, he had made all of this up. Angela Fourie was the most
popular girl in our grade. Everyone except for me seemed to be obsessed with
her. Okay, she was kinda cute, but she wasn’t my kinda cute.
“She sent me
a Facebook invite.”
“Does your
mother know you’re on Facebook?”
“Shut up.”
“The only
thing that’s saving you is that Oryxis and your mom believing you’re sleeping
over at my house,” I said. “If they hear that we sneaked out ...”
“You sound
like Oryxis now, blah, blah-blah-blah.” Rowan made little talking hand movements.
“We’re just going for a little while.”
I growled at
him but bit my tongue. Besides, I needed my breath for the last stretch of road
before we got to the security gate. If Rowan’s claim that he had an invite (of
course I hadn’t received one) wasn’t all a pile of dog poo, then we’d be
allowed in past those hallowed gates to Tierboskloof. If not ... Well, we could
go back to my place and play console games or something.
I waited
next to Rowan while he sweet-talked the security guard at the gate. My mom had
brought me here a few years ago when she was visiting a friend, and then they
hadn’t had all the security. I allowed myself to relax a little. Rowan would be
safe enough.
As his
Guardian, I had to look out for him, just like Oryxis made sure nothing
happened to Persia, Rowan’s mum. They were royalty in exile, from the magical
kingdom of Sunthyst, and how I had gotten myself tangled in their lives was
definitely another story for another time. (That’s if you wanted to cue The Neverending Story.)
But Angela
confirmed that we were on the guest list, the security guard buzzed us through,
and we followed the avenue up until we reached our destination. We could hardly
miss it. The music was pounding doef-doef.
Yay, my favourite. Not. I was already cringing and wishing I’d brought my earplugs
by the time Rowan rang the doorbell. Squeals of laughter sounded from the other
side.
“Are you
sure you want to do this?” I asked him.
“Sorry?” he
said, cupping his ear to me.
Whether he
genuinely couldn’t hear me or if he was just joking, I decided to ignore him.
My night had been ruined, in any case. I could only ride it out until the
bitter end.
Fay opened
the door and blinked at us with heavily made-up eyes, and my heart did a little
jig. Okay, Fay was my kinda cute. My
mouth went dry but that was okay, Rowan did all the talking and got us inside.
Oh. My. God.
Fay.
Things were
looking up. Definitely. Just about everyone from our class was here, and then
some. I didn’t recognise some of the older skate punk guys who were hanging out
on the balcony smoking cigarettes and trying to look cool.
“Now what,
wise guy?” I asked Rowan.
He shrugged
and pointed to the kitchen. Drinks, I suppose. Angela’s parents were loaded, so
they could afford to let their daughter throw big house parties. Not an adult
in sight ...
Loads of
fun, but things could also go horribly wrong if we weren’t careful.
Rowan, of
course, was completely oblivious to all the dynamics around him – all the more
reason for me to look out for him.
Everyone was
helping themselves to fruit punch in the kitchen, and I made Rowan dilute his
with more orange juice before we headed out to the balcony. From the smell of
things there was already way too much vodka in the punch.
It was like
we had some anti-cool device strapped to us. The kids sort of shuffled out of
our way so that we clearly stood on our own – outcasts. We might as well have
that tattooed on our foreheads.
“Happy now?”
I scowled at my friend.
Rowan sipped
at his drink and tried not to grimace. He obviously wasn’t used to hard tack,
for all the times he bragged about sneaking beers from Oryxis’s stock. The
stuff tasted pretty vile, so I took small sips. I didn’t want to get drunk. Not
here.
Just as I
feared we’d be standing around with nothing to do the entire night, I heard it
in a brief lull between dance tracks: one of the most beautiful sounds in the
world – a softly played classical guitar. The mystery musician was sitting on
another patio to our right, screened by a thick stand of wild banana.
The next
track started up and I grabbed Rowan’s sleeve. “C’mon, we’re not going to stand
about like a pair of lost farts in a perfume factory.”
I didn’t
give Rowan a chance to argue and all but dragged him with me down a small
flight of steps into the garden then around the vegetation to where a girl was
sitting cross-legged on a pile of cushions. It was Fay, and she had a
nylon-string guitar clasped to her chest.
“Hey,” she
said.
“You’re not
going to get heard over the music.” I gestured behind us.
“It’s fine.
It’s still better than being out there with all the posers.”
Rowan made
to go into the room behind Fay.
“It wouldn’t
go in there if I were you,” she told him.
He froze. “Why?”
“Angela’s in
there with Tom.”
Rowan tried
and failed to hide his disappointment. I hid my smile behind my hand.
“Yeah, I
know. Sucks. She asked me to keep chips out front.”
“That’s just
twisted,” I said.
Fay gave a
little shrug and played a trill of notes. “It beats getting hassled by boys out
there. Mike’s been trying to make me do shooters.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Mike’s an
idiot,” I told her and sat down next to her. “Whose guitar is that?”
“Angela’s
brother’s. He’s gone overseas. I always play it when I visit.”
“You’re
anti-social.” I smiled at her.
“So are you.”
Well, that
was one way of chatting up a girl.
As it turned
out, Fay and I shared a bunch of similar favourite bands and we took turns
showing each other different songs on the guitar. I hadn’t even known to speak
to her at school, but thanks to the party, we were good. Fay and Jay – it had a
nice ring to it. We had a laugh about that. I guess that’s why I didn’t notice
that Rowan had wandered off. The first we heard of any drama was when the music
got turned off and there was shouting.
“Where’s
your friend?” Fay asked me.
I swore, and
my “Spidey” senses as I called it were tingling – I knew on a gut-deep level
that whoever was responsible for the disturbance, it was Rowan. He was in
trouble.
“Crap, crap,
crap!” I muttered under my breath as I rushed through the bedroom behind us and
into the house. Fay and I had been so busy talking music we hadn’t even noticed
when Angela and Tom had finished whatever it was that they’d been doing. Not
that I cared.
My main
concern now was saving Rowan from getting beaten up. That kid couldn’t hit a
fly if his life depended on it, and it wasn’t difficult imagining a dozen
scenarios varying in degree of horror – Rowan with a black eye; Rowan with his
front tooth knocked out; Rowan with a broken hand ...
All these
scenes ended the same way: Jay having to “please explain” to Persia, who could
possibly literally fry me with whatever weird magic she kept up her sleeve. If
she knew we were even here ...
There was a
circle of kids out front in the driveway, and for a moment I thought the boy
sprawled on the ground was Rowan. But it wasn’t.
Mike lay
there, moaning. Big-ass bully Mike, who was at least a head taller and twice as
large as Rowan. I couldn’t help but gape, as surprised as Rowan, who stood
there over him rubbing at the knuckles of his right hand.
“Angela’s
dating Tom, you douche,” Rowan spat. “When she says she’s not interested in
seeing you anymore, she means it.”
Some of Mike’s
friends, eyed up Rowan and were muttering among each other, and it was at that moment
that I figured it would be a good idea if we went back to my place to play
console games. Less chance of Rowan causing any trouble.
“I’ll see
you on Monday,” I told Fay.
She gave me
a knowing smile and melted back into the house, clearly uninterested in what
was going on out here. Well, there went my chances of having something with a
girl tonight. Plus she’d been sending out all the right signals.
I sighed and
ploughed through the crowd and grabbed Rowan by the elbow. “C’mon, mate, we
gotta chuck.”
He glared at
me but didn’t bitch, thank goodness.
I cast one
look behind me, but Mike’s friends were too busy helping him up off the ground.
Then I
groused at Rowan, “What did you go and do that for?”
Rowan’s grin
was devilish. “That was payback.”
“Dude,
seriously, what would you have done if his friends had piled into you? You were
outnumbered.”
“You’re here
now.”
“Dude.” I
shook my head. Had he honestly thought I’d haul his ass out of the fire? No. He
was right. I would. Even if I got hurt.
Running footsteps
from behind had us spin around. I tensed then relaxed. It was only Angela
coming up the driveway.
She was
breathless and grabbed both of Rowan’s hands in her own. “Thank you! I can’t
believe Mike was such an idiot.”
Then she
kissed him. Full on the lips.
Before
either of us could respond, Angela dashed down the driveway again, leaving us
reeling.
“What was
that?” I asked in disbelief – Rowan, getting lucky with the girls?
Rowan just
smiled and touched his fingers to his mouth. “I don’t know, but her lips tasted
like cherries.”
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