Free Life of the Party by Gillian Philip Page A

up with me in the narrow close alongside the flats. I’d been sick out in the street as well – luckily there weren’t many people around – and then I’d limpedinto the alleyway and been sick again. Several times. I hated being sick, but at least it made me feel a bit better.
    I leaned on the wall with both hands. It was a nice wall. I liked the coolness of the stone against my palms. So I put my forehead against it as well.
    Steph rubbed my back.
    ‘You okay?’ she asked gently.
    I thought I was going to say something intelligent, but instead I just groaned.
    ‘Poor old you,’ she said.
    Which was more sympathy than I deserved.
    ‘I’m really sorry, Steph,’ I managed to say.
    ‘Don’t worry about it, kiddo. Come on, I’ll get you home.’
    ‘But you wanted to –’
    ‘Have you any idea how late it is? C’mon,it’s time to go anyway. It was getting boring.’
    And so were you, Chloe.
But she was too kind to say it.
    ‘Sorry,’ I said again. Experimentally I pushed myself away from the wall. I swayed, but I could walk roughly in a straight line.
    ‘Whose flat was that, anyway?’
    She shrugged. ‘Dunno. Some mate of Martin’s big brother.’
    I was really glad I didn’t know the flat owner. I sort of suspected how embarrassed I was going to be in the morning.
    ‘Was it a good party?’
    ‘It was okay,’ said Steph. ‘Up to a point.’
    Which meant,
I was enjoying it till you spoilt it, Chloe.
I felt rotten and I knew when I was sober I was going to feel even rottener.
    ‘Never again,’ I mumbled. ‘Honest, Steph, I’ll never touch another drop.’
    She took my arm, and gratefully I leaned into it.
    ‘I’ve heard that one before,’ she said.
    But at least she laughed.

    It was especially kind of Steph not to dump me at my front door and run. Instead, she took my keys out of my bag and got me inside, and stayed beside me to face the wrath of Mum.
    Not that Mum’s wrath amounted to much.
    ‘Oh, Chloe, for goodness’ sake.’ She put her hand to her mouth. She was in the hallway, in her dressing gown, and she looked dazed, as if she’d been asleep but had heard us coming. That wouldn’t have been difficult, since I’d fallen over when I opened the gate, and knocked over the wheelie bin.
    ‘It’s okay, Mrs Finch,’ said Steph firmly. ‘Really it is. Chloe just doesn’t feel too good.’
    ‘Don’t feel too good,’ I muttered.
    ‘So I’ll just get her up to her room.’
    ‘Chloe.’ There were tears in Mum’s voice. ‘Was it something that happened? Is it me and Dad? Is there something I can …’
    Even feeling as bad as I did, I could still give her a withering glare. No, it was nothing you did, I wanted to say. No, I’m hardly going to be bothered about Dad when he’s not bothered about me. All I’m doing is having a good time. Don’t be so understanding and –
patronising.
    I couldn’t be bothered saying anything. But I think she got the point of the glare.
    ‘Tomorrow,’ she said lamely. ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Right, love?’
    Tomorrow, I thought, I’d better avoid Mum like the plague.

    Avoiding Mum was easy enough; she was annoyed with me, that was for sure, but she was also dreading the confrontation, and she’s no better in the mornings than I am. She muttered something over breakfast about
talking later,
then scurried off to work. I wish I could have avoided Rob Yeadon as easily.
    He grinned at me as he came into the classroom, a superior sort of grin. I was sitting at my desk, hoping I wasn’t going to have to stand up any time soon, because I felt nauseous again. He leaned down as he passed, specially to insult me.
    ‘Looking rough,’ he murmured.
    ‘Yeah, you are that,’ I snapped.
    If I’d had a drink inside me, I could have thought of something wittier. But that would have to do.
    He was like a bad virus. He wouldn’t go away.
    ‘To think I used to fancy you,’ he sneered. ‘Before you were such a cheap drunk.’
    That took my