Read Part 8 here or from the beginning, here.
That party had been semi-fun, she recollected. Or at least, it had certainly been interesting. The thing was, she didn't not like parties (and neither was she against double negatives). She just appreciated being amongst her own crowd, as opposed to the array of characters that had turned up to the current event.
A group of guys were standing by the oven, waiting on the pile of food they'd managed to conjure up out of the freezer to cook. There was a slight burning smell. Not that anyone seemed to care. Little attention was paid to their culinary delights. Kath liked to eat when she had alcohol inside her, so she felt sorry for whatever creation had ended up in the oven. It certainly didn't look edible. Her stomach rumbled. She decided instead to grab another drink. It seemed a slightly healthier alternative than the burnt creation that was currently assaulting her nostrils.
Her drink of choice was that of whatever had been found inside the alcohol cupboard of whoever's party she was actually at. She couldn't quite recall the name of the host. A girl who did Business Studies with a friend of hers. The alcohol (she wasn't quite sure what it was) had been mixed with something that may have once resembled lemonade. Altogether, it wasn't the worst thing she had ever tasted.
Kath moved to sit on the stairs with her alcoholic concoction, contemplating why she had bothered turning up. It had seemed better than the alternative of sitting indoors with Lou and her Nanny Beth watching the epitome of horrendous Saturday night entertainment, courtesy of ITV. But she wasn't so sure now. What she was sure of, however, what that she would have prefered having her pyjamas on. Her skirt was beginning to cut into her thighs and she craved her slippers.
Kath was stirred out of her reverie by the sound of the smoke alarm, that was doing a splendid job of making it clear to anyone that there was an abundance of smoke billowing out of the kitchen. Bugger. Kath stood to leave the house, hoping the few who were trailing behind her weren't suffering too much from smoke inhalation. Luckily, nobody seemed particularly harmed. In fact, most people stood around in the front garden pretty non-plussed. Perhaps it was a very sensitive smoke alarm, and this was the usual turn of events, Kath wondered.
A girl who Kath had briefly conversed with earlier in the night came up and wordlessly offered her cigarette. She hadn't failed to recognise the irony of the situation as she saw the smoke being directed out of the kitchen window. Kath took the cigarette. She inhaled. She didn't enjoy it. That was that, then, she thought. Back in school teachers would constantly get on at you about peer pressure. Kath had never experienced such terrors. Maybe she was just in with the wrong (or right, as it were) crowd. It was one to cross of the checklist, nonetheless.
Part 10
