"Who'd a thought it boy? Lookie over there."
I took a sip of my grape juice.
"I said look not stare."
The accent was indeed different. It didn't sound like it belonged at a London socialite promenade. I turned around to find two men hunched over with glasses of wine looking curiously in my direction. Typical. Party-crashers were to be expected at an event such as this.
"Hello-"
"What do you think you are doing?" I ignored the silly salutation.
They paused and looked at each other confused. One of them spoke, "I'm sorry, are we standing in your way?"
I set down my glass before it spilt, "I'll have you know that this party does not tolerate uninvited guests," I spoke with a hushed, low voice.
"But we are guests."
I looked at the two dressed nicely in their ebony suits, "I- oh. Are you sure?"
My face blushed and they laughed, "We're performing tonight- we're sure."
Sighing, I took my glass, "Right, well, my mistake. Enjoy my birthday party," I walked away, wishing I had an extra hand to cover my mouth when it got ahead of me.
I sought comfort in my circle of friends crowded in the middle of the large room, right around the cake. Suddenly I felt everyone was having fun except me. They hadn't noticed my presence, for talk of me continued, "I couldn't believe she actually called me- like we're friends. But I guess maybe she has no one else." Disappointed by my "friends", I lingered to the back of the stage where musicians were to perform. I hadn't expected to spend my 17th birthday party alone with wires and drum sets. Guitars and basses lay against the walls. Looking around, I saw no one to yell at me, so I took one and pulled the strap up over my head.
"What do you think you are doing?"