Page 31 of The Serial Killer's Sister
‘But?’
She shrugs. ‘I’m nervous, okay?’
Anna laughs. ‘What? The Kirsty Briggs I know is never nervous. Look, they won’t catch us, all right? We’ve set it all up and Maggie and Paula have our backs. It’s all good.’
‘It’s not that.’
Anna frowns at her friend. ‘Well, what, then?’
‘Chris is going to be there.’
‘Ahhh, gotcha! The gorgeous Chris Connell.’ Anna nudges Kirsty with her elbow. ‘Well then, we will have to make sure he notices you.’
Kirsty blushes. ‘Great, now I’m even more nervous.’
‘Maybe you should’ve worn this outfit instead of letting me borrow it!’ Anna looks down at her cropped top and plaid mini skirt with slits on the side.
Kirsty sighs. ‘Nah. My clothes always seem to look better on you.’
‘You do look cute in that outfit. He’d be mad not to want to chat to you.’ Anna smiles at Kirsty. ‘I’ll sort it.’
‘Don’t make me look a twat, please. I don’t want him to know I fancy him.’
‘That kinda defeats the object.’ Anna laughs again but agrees to be subtle.
The house – a large, detached one in its own grounds – is rammed when they get inside. Nearly all the kids are their age or younger, apart from Mason and his mate from year eleven – and almost all are already well on their way to being drunk. Anna and Kirsty give each other an excited look and head to the table, where every drink imaginable seems to be lined up. Kirsty pours a vodka – half a tall glass – and tops it up with orange juice. Anna sniffs it and recoils.
‘Jesus, that stinks.’
‘After one, you won’t notice,’ Kirsty says.
Anna pours some into a transparent plastic cup and necks it back. She gags, covers her mouth and grabs lemonade, swigging it straight from the bottle. Kirsty doubles over, laughing.
‘You’re not meant to drink it neat, you loon.’
‘Maybe I should stick to alcopops,’ Anna says, recovering and swiping her hand across her mouth. ‘That was vile.’
‘Don’t show us up – we should at least try and make it look like we fit in with this lot.’
‘Good point.’ Anna glances around at the others. Thankfully, no one seems to have witnessed her gagging episode.
After a few more, the girls relax and begin to wander through the ground floor of the house, Anna desperately trying to find Chris. Spotting him in the kitchen with agroup of lads, she leaves Kirsty’s side and saunters over to them.
‘Here,’ one of the lads says, ‘if it’s not a kid from the scabby home.’ They burst out laughing and Anna turns to see Kirsty disappearing out the back door.
‘You’re such dicks,’ she says, sticking her middle finger up to Chris, then turning on her heel and heading after her. Kirsty would be mad at her for interfering – she’d probably want to leave now, ruin the night. As Anna rushes out through the kitchen, she bangs into someone.
‘Hey, you’re not leaving a perfectly good party, are you?’ The boy puts a hand on Anna’s arm, squeezing it. His eyes bore into hers and she feels her legs turn to jelly. He has brown, wavy hair that’s longer than most boys wear theirs and he has a leather jacket on, the smell of patchouli wafting from it. She opens her mouth, but no words come. ‘Drink?’ he says. Anna nods without thinking. He takes her hand and leads her back into the room with the table of drinks. She watches in awe as he pours from a bottle; she doesn’t even know what he’s giving her. She doesn’t recognise him from school.
‘What’s your name?’ she asks.
‘Neil. What’s yours?’
‘Anna.’
Someone turns the music up and the rest of Neil’s words are drowned out. She nods anyway, hoping she’s not coming across as stupid. Anna allows him to guide her towards the stairs, casting her eyes around to see if she can spot Kirsty. There’s no sign of her; she mustn’t have come back inside.
‘Look, Neil, I have to find Kirsty.’ She points to the kitchen. ‘She went outside.’
