“Party at mine tonight. We’ve just had a delivery of the finest white widow. Uncorking time.” He grins, revealing a row of almost perfect teeth, marred only by a crooked incisor. “You coming?”
Is he asking me to go to this party? Or is he asking me if I’ve already been invited? I frown, pondering the etiquette for going to drug parties. I want to go. Badly. Because Niall will be there.
“Um, when is it?”
“Tonight,” Digby repeats, patiently.
If I was braver I might roll my eyes. Instead, I try to clarify. “What time?”
He starts to laugh, as if I asked the stupidest question. “You’re so sweet. No wonder Niall likes you.” His grin twists with amusement. “I hadn’t really thought of a time. Just tonight, whenever.”
“About eight?” I don’t want to be early or late.
“Oh, Iris. You know if Niall hadn’t claimed you first, I might just fall in love with you.” He’s staring at me as if I’m a specimen in a museum. “I’ll tell you what, you come over at eight and we can share the first joint of the night. I promise not to stuff my hand down your pants, and you can make me all giggly and happy.”
I get there at 7:57 p.m. Lifting my hand, I’m about to rap my knuckles on the door when it’s pulled open. Standing just inside the hallway is a very bored-looking girl. She sweeps her blonde hair over her shoulders and stares at me for a moment.
“Is Digby in?” I try to peer around her. All the curtains are closed—in spite of the fact it’s still light outside—and everything looks dingy and dark.
“Yeah. Upstairs.” She wanders off, leaving me standing on the step, the front door open wide. I hesitate, wondering if I should just go in, or if I should wait for an invitation. It takes a few moments for me to realise she’s not coming back.
From the outside, the house is a pretty Victorian semi, in a leafy road about a mile away from campus. On the inside though, it’s a different matter. As soon as I step into the hallway I trip over a pile of shoes, narrowly avoiding falling on a bicycle that’s propped against the wall. There is a heap of junk mail to the left of the bike, and I gingerly step over it.
The whole hallway stinks. It’s a mixture of shoe smells and dust, laced with an edge of testosterone. I could have walked in here blindfolded and told you that men lived here. It’s exactly the same as the boys’ rooms in my hall of residence. They light joss sticks when they bring girls back, hoping it will disguise the stench.
The stairs are wooden and covered with a faded striped runner that’s held down with brass rods. The exposed wood is layered with dust bunnies. When I walk up to the first floor I imagine I’m leaving a cloud of dust behind me, like a truck driving through a desert.
When I get to the landing I’m faced with five doors. I know Niall sometimes stays here, and a couple of their friends live here, too. Digby’s parents bought the house for him as an investment. I wonder if they’re aware of the state he keeps it in.
“Digby?” I call out quietly, not wanting to bring attention to myself. Then, realising I want to bring attention after all, I say it a little louder. “Digby?”
&n
bsp; The door at the end of the hall opens, revealing Digby surrounded by a haze of smoke. His eyes are unfocused, and he’s only wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. His bare chest is hairless and a little doughy; scarcely defined by muscles.
“Iris. You made it.” He waves his hand, showing me the joint clutched between his thumb and forefinger. “We may have started without you.”
“So I see.” I’m still standing at the top of the stairs.
“Come in, come in.” He waves at his room with a flourish. “I wanted to have the party downstairs, but Bitchasaurus said I couldn’t.”
“Bitchasaurus?”
“My bloody sister. She’s come to stay for a few days. Thinks she’s my mother.”
I guess that explains the miserable blonde.
Reluctantly, I walk toward his room and am suddenly relieved when I hear voices coming from inside. When I squeeze past Digby, I see the dark-haired girl from the lake curled up on a beanbag with a glass of wine in her hand. Next to her is an earnest-looking boy with wire-rimmed glasses.
She looks up at me without smiling. “Where’s Niall?”
I feel a bit miffed, as if I’m not a person in my own right. “I don’t know, isn’t he coming?”
Digby starts to giggle. “You did tell him, right?”
I shake my head and my heart falls. That’s pretty much the only reason I came. Then it dawns on me that the only reason they asked me is because they wanted me to bring Niall. Which is weird, because he’s their friend.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” throat girl says. “We never bloody see him anymore, and then when we ask you to bring him, you forget.”