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Back Unnecessary Drama Save as PDF
Chapters (49)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. TEXT LOGO PAGE
  3. ABOUT THE BOOK
  4. DEDICATION
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  46. ALSO BY NINA KENWOOD
  47. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  48. PRAISE
  49. NEW MARKETING PAGE

‘It’s important for the future of this household that I get a shot of you in the chicken suit,’ Jesse says, grinning.

I narrow my eyes. Does he think I’m afraid to wear the costume? That I’m scared of the judgment from him, and Amber, and his schoolfriends and everyone else here? That I take myself so seriously I can’t wear a chicken suit in front of strangers at my first party in Melbourne? Well, I’ll show him. I determinedly haul the chicken onesie on over my dress and zip it up. I expect my self-consciousness to magically disappear once I am standing alongside the others in costume but, unfortunately, it doesn’t. I can’t let Jesse see that though. He’s only going to see the most carefree version of Brooke ever.

Justin, Ruby and Sophie surround me and make funny faces for the camera and I smile wide—unclench, unclench—being a good sport, laughing along and hamming it up. But secretly, I’m hot and itchy and over-stimulated and a little bit tired, and I want to rip the suit off, go to the kitchen and start tidying up while listening to a long podcast about a random topic like medieval nuns or the history of bread. A deeply absorbing activity where I can just relax and forget I even have a body or a to-do list or a ‘things I want to achieve this year’ plan or big friendship-shaped holes in my life or sharp spikes of anxiety that I keep catching myself on or the memory of Do I like Brooke? No. No. Fuck, no. I just want to sink deep into my brain like it’s a pristine empty swimming pool.

I’m not Fun Drunk Chicken-suit Girl, I will never be Fun Drunk Chicken-suit Girl, I know that, and everyone else here probably knows it too.

8

8

The thing about parties is, especially parties with new people, I always have to eventually face the Question. The Why-Don’t-You-Drink Question, my least favourite question of all time.

You think I would, after being asked endlessly all through high school? Even by people who know I don’t drink, even occasionally by other people who don’t drink themselves, by people who have known me for years, people who are expecting me to drive them home, but who just can’t help themselves in asking ‘but why’ and ‘but just this once Brooke’ and ‘come on Brookey, come on’ and ‘BB, you would be so funny to see wasted, come on’ and ‘oh my god, can you imagine Brooke drunk?’ and ‘We love you, come on, just for us’.

I have a few different responses to the drinking question, depending on the situation.

‘I’m on antibiotics, so I can’t’—can only be used once or twice without inviting questions about what kind of ongoing medical issue I might have.