JANIS

I knew he wanted to kiss me or at least stick his disgusting tongue down my throat. I could feel the way his eyes were boring into the back of my head all night. The way he tried to mirror my movements and when he caught my plate of buffet food his hands lingered a little too long and it felt like they were burning through my skin.

I shuddered, wiping my hand on my jeans.

Why didn't I want his attention? Every single girl with two brain cells to rub together gazed adoringly at him when he walked by. He just failed to notice them as he swaggered around the party followed by his posse of dumb followers like some kind of freaking shepherd.

Something about him just made my skin crawl and no matter how many times I rebounded his affections with, I must admit, awesome comebacks, he continued his pursuit of me or whatever he apparently thought I had to offer.

No one questioned the affections of Glen. Just bowed to his every wish apparently and even if they talked behind his back he was none the wiser. Stupid air head. Why wasn't he chasing someone as equally matched as Karen or even Regina, the queen bitch herself.

I shoved through the dance floor of stupid, horny teens grinding against each other, inwardly groaning at their pathetic assumed awesomeness in pursuit of Damien. Where in the frick was that giant, gay fairy I referred to as my best friend. Over by the fountain of Coco's stupidly lavish garden (compensating for something ?) talking to a guy obviously toeing the floor outside the closet was the vision of pink himself.

"Damien, may I peel you from this leech", I yelled across the gross noise of a couple furiously making out against a car.

"What's wrong, vision of gothic beauty", he answered without even moving his eyes from the view of wonderboy.

They started to edge closer to each others faces.

"Ugh, never mind", I groaned turning to return to the throng of losers inside and perhaps drown myself in the toilet or something.

I heard a prolonged "awww" and then some derogatory mark, probably towards me, then Damien catching up with me.

"This better be important Janis, I was uber close to touching an Adonis. He smelled like lavender and cranberry juice and I was helping to remove him from the clutches of the closet of condemnation."

"Damien, I'm having an issue here – which you'd probably have noticed if you had your fluffy head out of you pants and in it's correct place"

Damien swatted me with his hand and sighed, "Fine, fine. Tell me about your "issues", unnecessarily making air quotation marks with his manicured fingers.

I considered my approach to the topic carefully. Too annoyed he might try and find something that I didn't want him to even catch a whiff of. Too happy; the same thing. I gotta play it casual.

"So, Coco won't leave me the fuck alone"

"Oh my sweet Mary, I know right! I see him staring after your hot body you hide so well under those mangey clothes. The way he wants to run his fingers through your black locks"

"Damien get your hands out of my hair"

"Sorry hot stuff"

"Oh, please."

"I wish he swang my way, I'd each breakfast off his toned abs every morning after a night of-"

"Damien, you are literally as much help as Karen in math"

"Girl, you should be doing cartwheels of joy. That hot jockey wants to ride you like a grand national horse. Neigghhh"

"Will you stop with the hideous metaphors. I'm going to find something stronger than the punch I'm gonna give you if you carry on" I quickened my pace, my annoyance bubbling.

"Sweetie, don't pass up the chance to go to heaven! He wants to kiss you, he wants to-"

"DAMIEN SHUT THE HELL UP", I shouted over my shoulder as I made my way into the house again.

There had to be something decent to drink. I mean, I was no alcoholic but I knew the punch served was about 2% alcohol 150% water and I wanted something to get rid of all these stupid thoughts in my head. I squeezed through a room full of people chanting drinking songs at a tiny girl standing on a table. She didn't look so well and was swaying in her, no doubt, designer heels. A guy jumped onto the table with her whispering in her ear, she giggled, spilling her drink slightly as they started kissing in front of everyone. Ugh. That made me feel so sick. His giant hands were grabbing at her slender waist and no doubt his stubble scratching on her face. But the crowd cheered and they seemed happy enough to be the centre of attention.

I laughed, I would have kicked him in the balls, fucking creep.

The kitchen was full of the hench footballer type having some kind of Neanderthal arm wrestle challenge so I headed up the stairs to seek quieter company.

This place was huge. Even bigger than the George residence. The walls were decked with framed awards and the carpet squidged under my tatty converse. I ventured into a huge master bedroom and flicked the light on. Empty. No figures on the bed, no one chucking up their guts in the marble en-suite. But thank the lord – a mini bar with miniature spirit bottles decking the shelves.

I'd only ever been tipsy at my cousins wedding last summer before but tonight, I felt like getting a little more intoxicated, y'know, letting loose a little. Everyone seemed to have managed to get their own to bring except me and Damien who never got invited to this sort of thing. But he, no doubt, was already 'sharing' that guys drink by now anyway. I had to fend for myself.

I clunked down on the hard floor and inspected the selection.

All this shit, free, right now. Woah.

I took the tiny bottle of browny orange liquid, 'Southern Comfort', hmm. Sounded nice. Well, bottoms up then I thought unscrewing the cap. The sweet but fiery drink made me cough when I finished the bottle, but I wasn't gonna give up there.

By the time I stood up, my head was all fuzzy and my eyes kept moving slower than I wanted them to, so I shut them for a minute. I picked up the handful of little bottles and threw them in the bin with a clunk. Looking in the mirror I saw myself in a different light. Maybe Damien had been right. I wasn't that ugly looking really. Yeah sure, my overly pierced ears and homemade hairdo made old people walk faster and mums pull their kids close, but I liked that, more room for me! Ugh. My makeup was heading sideways and I was really warm inside and out.

I stumbled slightly into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. Oh my God, it would be so funny if I dressed up like one of these bimbos embarrassing themselves down stairs. I giggled to myself as I thumbed through the multitude of fabrics and textures. I started pulling them off the hangers one by one and then in huge clumps til they clumped in a pile on the floor. I span around in the colours as they floated down and picked up a tiny purple dress and pair of small black heels.

Back in the bathroom I attempted to make my face less of a mess, although I kept slipping my arms against the sink when I tried to reapply my eyeliner and couldn't stop laughing when I saw the end result.

I looked like a goth Barbie.

Stuffing my jeans and top in the wash basket I winked at my own reflection and practised my lines.

"Hey you, howsa the pardyy", my words came out slurred but it only made me laugh more.

I clicked the light off, admittedly, after three tries and sauntered out of the bedroom.

Luckily forced pageant entries as a child had taught me to walk in heels or I would have looked like a transvestite on her first outing to the world.