BIRTHDAY BASH - Happy Birthday Fred and Tessa

Happy Birthday Tessa!!!


This is for Tessa Conte's BIRTHDAY BASH blogfest.  

I am driving north and I didn't want to disappoint so I write this in about 20 minutes. Apologies for what ever it is you spot . This is so first draft I'm not sure I've read it yet. I'm thinking of it as sharing part of the writing process :)

Happy Birthday Fred.

“Relax, Freddie. What could go wrong?”

Fred leaned against the kitchen cupboard, scuffed the cream slate tile with the toe of his boot and raised his fingers, one at a time. “Mum and Dad coming back? Someone messing up the carpet? No one coming? Shell coming? Shell coming with someone else?”

“Get some perspective, bro.” mumbled Tom from the depths of refrigerator. “It’s a party in Carstairs. How many parties get put on in a village this size?” He had a chicken drumstick in one hand and the crumbs from a sausage roll down the front of his black tee-shirt. “You’ll be lucky if the entire population of village don’t turn up.”

Fred folded his arms across his chest and stared at the cold, wrinkled drumstick.

Tom didn’t take to being lectured. He launched himself forward, grabbed his brother’s head under his arm and rubbed the chicken into the careful combed down style, “SIXTEEN!”

“Get off!” He wriggled free when Tom let him go. “Shit. I wish we’d never started this.”

“We have bouncers, invites and no alcohol, Freddie-boy. Chill, already!”

 “What if no one comes though? Really.”

“Do people know it’s on?”

Freddie thought about his Facebook page, “Yep.”

“Then they’ll come. Don’t worry.”

A few hours later when Shell was leaning into Freddy and they’d found a corner by the curtains to kinda-sorta dance and Tom was in the kitchen with the vodka that didn’t count in the no alcohol rule because he was nearly eighteen, neither noticed more friends than either of them knew were already in the house. Some girl with arrow tattoos and a three facial piercings had taken to answering the door when no one else bothered. The last time, she didn’t open the door. It was kicked in.

Screaming, mob-heavy the arrivals had bounced the bouncers. Tall, black-suited and red with embarrassment they were pinned to the wall as the main group ran into the house. The crowds inside parted like warm margarine. They slithered to the sides. The group of late arrivals made the atmosphere a little more atmospheric: they threw lamps and smashed light bulbs. Sausage rolls were hard to grind into the carpet, who’d have thought. The carpets were stain resistant. Stamped pizza sauce was a test they failed.

Fred pushed Shell back into the cover of the curtains. He kissed the fingers that curled at the edge of the purple material. Smiled, when he saw the tears in her eye. He nodded but he didn’t risk speaking much, “Stay there.”

He pushed his way through visitors to the hall door. “WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelled when he found one tall boy, not much older than he, standing on the third step of his stairway. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Nothing.” The boy sneered. “We’re guests. You invited us.”

“I’d have fucking remembered that.” said Fred.

“We got a general invite.”

Fuckin' Facebook. Bundled back by some of his unwelcome guests, Fred slipped on something he didn't want to look at on the carpet. Smashing in the kitchen was loud enough to crash through the shouting of the many who had arrived late. His friends, the ones he knew by face if not by name, were strangely quiet. Fred heard Tom’s voice through it all. He started to head to the back of the house but some of the well-organised team of Crashers had reached the full length curtains and Fred’s choices narrowed to one. Tom would call the police. He had to get to Shell.

I'm looking forward to be reading all the entries later tonight. :)