Chapter 14 #3
Victoria ignored him and drew her knees up onto the sofa. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. I caught Jolly’s eye and threw him a cushion, which he placed in front of her.
‘I can’t just – just . . .’ Victoria hiccupped and examined a scrape on her leg. ‘Bring everyone to these things, you know. Then they wouldn’t be exclusive.’
‘We’re not just anyone. We’re the hot young things,’ Jolly said. ‘We’re like pre-acting royalty. People should be begging to have us at parties. Well, I’m a hot young thing anyway.’
‘Aww Jol, it doesn’t work like that,’ Victoria said, ruffling his hair.
‘And me. I’m a hot young thing too,’ Stefano added.
‘Yeah, sure,’ Jolly said, glancing sideways at Victoria.
Victoria laughed and let out a snort.
‘Why do you do that?’ Stefano said, addressing Jolly.
‘Do what?’ he replied.
Stefano sat forward. I glimpsed a coldness behind his gaze. ‘That thing with your face, with your eyes.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jolly laughed uncertainly. He looked at Victoria for support, but she was elsewhere, staring at her nails like they held the answer to something.
‘You do that thing,’ he said calmly. ‘You roll your eyes at me.’
‘I didn’t do anything, hun.’
‘Yes, you did. You do. You always do this thing, it’s like you don’t respect me. It’s like, what?’ A vein bulged in Stefano’s neck. ‘You think I shouldn’t get invited to parties?’
‘I never said that. I don’t give a tiny little shit about whether or not you’re invited to parties.’
‘You think you’re smarter than me?’
‘Oh shut up, Stef.’
‘You think, what, because you wear stupid girls’ dresses and put makeup on your face that you’re better than me?’
‘Babe, you wear what you want and I’ll wear what I want. I literally don’t care.’
‘Fuck you,’ Stefano snarled.
‘Woah,’ Obi said, sitting forwards. He lowered his voice. ‘Let’s just calm down, yeah?’
‘You act like you’re so much better than me.’ Stefano stood up. ‘You think you’re so fucking special.’
‘I am fucking special.’ Jolly sprang to his feet.
I glanced across at Victoria, who remained in her seat. She looked so tiny, so inconsequential, like if she wanted to, she could squeeze herself between the sofa cushions and disappear forever.
‘And I’m not?’
‘Well, to be honest, no.’
People were staring now. Someone was tapping at the speakers, trying to turn the music down.
‘You’re pathetic,’ Jolly said. In heels he towered over Stefano. ‘I’ve seen you perform in class. You’re shit. You’re like a knock-off Marlon Brando that’s shrunk in the wash. You’re boring and you’re basic, and everyone thinks you’re going to fail.’
‘Who said that? Who thinks I’m going to fail?’ Stefano glanced nervously between me and Victoria. ‘Who fucking said that?’
Obi stood from his chair. ‘Guys, just calm down.’
‘Everyone thinks so,’ Jolly said, gesturing in the direction of the rapidly swelling crowd. Some of the costume girls giggled. A techie whispered something and ushered them outside.
‘Fuck you, you little gay boy,’ Stefano growled.
‘Gay boy? Oh yeah, real nice,’ Jolly jeered.
‘Guys, stop it,’ Obi said firmly, putting himself between them.
‘Good to know you’re a homophobe as well as a short-arse—’
Stefano went to push him, but Jolly was quicker. He grabbed Stefano’s hand between his manicured fingers and bit down hard on the heel of his palm.
‘Finocchio,’ Stefano yelped, before raising his fist and lunging towards him.
Jolly tumbled backwards into a lamp, which crashed against the window.
One of the costume girls squealed. A pile of books toppled from the sill and a drink capsized, spilling its contents across the floor.
Obi got in between the two of them again.
He pushed Stefano down into the opposite chair and held Jolly against the window.
There was shushing, giggles, excited whispers ricocheting down the hallway, a few lone voices chanting fight, fight, fight.
Just then, an odd mewling sound filled the room.
I looked around. Victoria’s face was buried in her hands. Her shoulders were trembling.
‘Just stop it, stop it, please,’ she begged through muffled fingers. ‘I can’t bear it, please, please.’
Jolly was by her side in a flash. ‘Oh babe. Oh hun,’ he cooed. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.’
Stefano lay panting at the other end of the room. ‘Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry, Victoria.’
‘I j-just want everyone to get along,’ she stuttered.
I gazed around the room, at all the people craning to get a look. All those eyes, fixed on Victoria.
‘W-why can’t we just be friends? I j-just want us to get along and be n-nice to each other. W-why does there have to be all this drama?’
And then I saw her: the birthday girl, Abigail.
She’d just come in. She smiled and tried to drape herself around the guy she’d been making out with earlier, but he frowned and shrugged her off. Abigail, downcast, looked from his face to Victoria’s. Something hardened in her eyes. She crossed her arms and stormed from the room.
‘They’re sorry, V,’ Obi said. ‘Come on, let’s get you that water.’
Victoria’s sobs intensified. She still looked pretty, even when she cried. I hated her for that.
‘Poor V, poor poor V,’ Jolly whispered.
She’d arrived late, pissed and off her face on something, and still, still, it was all about her. It would always be all about her. She was magic. She was a witch.
Sick of being a spectator, I stood up. ‘It’s getting late,’ I said, to no one in particular. And, as if hadn’t breathed a word, no one in particular responded. ‘I think I’m going to go.’
Jolly took Victoria’s hand in his own and, stroking it like a fine piece of silk, whispered more apologies.
Obi came and knelt down beside her, rearranging the cushion to guard her dignity.
Stefano sat staring at her, breathing heavily, red-faced and contrite at the far end of the room.
I picked up my bag and, with one last glance at the miserable tableau, disappeared into the crowd.