The music came off as we ran over to help them. Eric had fallen onto his wrist and clutched it to his chest while eyeballing the broken table in horror. I felt a hand on my arm, and found Jessica at my side, lipstick still all around her face. Matt went to help Eric up, though, just as he was almost standing, he let go, and Eric fell back onto the floor while everyone cheered. His face turned a deep red. “FUCK YOU,” he yelled at Matt. “And fuck you, Abi, you fat bitch. My parents are going to fucking kill me.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her friends were immediately at her side, stepping in front of her.

“Don’t you call her that,” her friend Jamelia said.

“Yeah, Eric. You’re such a dick.”

“Get out of my house!”

“Make us.”

Jessica tugged at my arm again. “Fern?” She sounded as though she’d been shot with a thousand tranquilizer darts. “Can we leave?” She strode toward the front door, bumping into the side of it twice before she made it through. I followed her out, leaving the chaos behind me, and I dashed after her while she ran around the corner so she wasn’t in view of the house. I quickly rang my parents and told them we needed picking up early. “No reason. Just the party got boring.”

“Your dad will be ten minutes,” Mum said. “Are you sure everything is OK?”

“Oh yeah. Fine.”

But everything was far from fine. Jessica was the drunkest person the world had ever known. She slumped on the curb. When I sat down next to her, she threw herself onto me, like she was pleading for her life. “I’m sorry, Fern, I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s OK. It’s OK.”

“I’ve fucked up everything, haven’t I? I knew I would.”

“It’s going to be all right.”

“Do they hate me? They hate me, don’t they? I hate me.”

“Look, my dad’s here. Do you think you could try and act sober in the car?”

“You hate me too. I can see it in your eyes. You think I’m a slag.”

I hugged her. “Please, Jessica, just act sober in the car.”

Dad appeared at the wheel of our Volvo wearing a coat over his pajamas. I tried to act faux cheery to throw him off the scent.

“Thanks for getting us,” I chirped, folding Jessica into the back seat and putting her seat belt on. Her face smeared against the glass, and he noticed.

“Is she OK?”

“Oh yeah. We’re just really tired.”

I got into the front seat next to him.

“How was the party?”

“Oh yeah. It was OK. Very...un-antidisestablishmentarianism.” I’d decided to throw in long words wherever I could. Surely a drunk person would never be able to pronounce such things.

Dad smirked. “And that means?”