This was my state of mind when I next met Skye. It was spring in 1985 and the days were getting longer and warmer. My mood had improved slightly with the weather. I was also reassured to find I was still alive. It seemed I wasn’t going to die quite as quickly as I’d thought.
But I was still plagued with terrors and anxieties. I still hated myself when I looked in the mirror. The gap between who I was and who I wanted to be still seemed like a chasm.
It was Friday night and I was in town on my own. I had actually received an invite from Claire Barnet, a girl in my class, to go over to her place that evening. A few girls from school were meeting up, but I wasn’t in the mood. That group were all square, goody-two-shoes, teacher’s-pet types. In other words, they were like me, and I didn’t want to be me any more. Spending time with them would have just reminded me how dissatisfied I was with myself.
I drifted around the shops. I browsed through the science fiction section in Scorpio Books. I looked through the clothing stores on Cashel Street. I wandered through Shades Arcade.
I ended up in the Square. Numerous teenagers were milling about, but I couldn’t see anyone I knew. I sat on the steps near the Cathedral and wondered what I was doing. I’d dressed up to come into town, but what was the point? What was I hoping would happen?
Everything seemed hopeless. I would never transform into someone new. I would never be accepted by kids like Joanne Price. And Todd Carter would never be my boyfriend.
I decided to head home. It was getting late and there was no point hanging around in town any more.
I got up to walk to the bus stop, then spotted a girl called Tanya Harding leaning against the wall nearby. She was puffing on a cigarette and chatting to a cluster of other kids. I knew her from primary school, but I hadn’t seen her in almost a year as she hadn’t gone to Burnside. I paused for a moment. I was thinking of approaching her, but I didn’t know her all that well. We’d never been good friends. On the other hand, I was bored and lonely and felt like a failure for spending yet another Friday night on my own.
I dithered for a while, then eventually worked up the courage to walk across to Tanya. I waved feebly and said: ‘Hey, there.’
She gave me the barest nod of acknowledgement. She didn’t seem especially interested in talking to me. The little confidence I had crumbled, but I somehow fought off the urge to walk away.
‘How’s it going?’ I said.
She took a drag on her cigarette. ‘All right.’
‘What you up to?’
‘Nothing. We’re heading off in a minute.’
Her eyes flickered across the group she was with. It was only at this point that I had a good look at them. And that is when I realised one of them was Skye.
She looked so different I didn’t even recognise her at first. Her hair seemed darker than I remembered and was cut short and spiky. Her eyes were ringed with thick black eyeliner. She had numerous silver studs and sleepers in her ears. And she was dressed all in black: black denim jacket, black jeans and a tight black top that stretched down below her waist like a short dress. Overall, she looked like one of the weird people I sometimes saw hanging around town. I was afraid of those people and always kept my distance from them. It had never occurred to me that someone my age could be one of them, or that I might even know one of them.
I was about to say something to her, but at that moment someone in the group said it was time to go.
Tanya stubbed out her cigarette and said to me: ‘See you later. We’re out of here.’
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘Somewhere else.’
It was clear Tanya didn’t want me to tag along, but then Skye seemed to notice me for the first time and said: ‘She’s OK. She can come.’
Tanya’s expression soured, but she didn’t voice any objections. I joined the group as they ambled across the Square. I had no idea where they were heading, but I didn’t have anything better to do.
I caught up to Skye and tried to engage her in conversation. But she was busy talking to someone else and I couldn’t attract her attention. We left the Square and I was surprised when we halted at my bus stop on Hereford Street.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked Tanya.
‘Skye’s place.’
‘Where’s that?’
She rolled her eyes, as if I’d said the most stupid thing. ‘Riccarton.’
I didn’t ask her any further questions, but when the bus arrived, I filed on board with the rest of the group. We sat at the back, but I ended up in a seat on my own. Tanya didn’t want to sit next to me, and Skye was busy chatting to her friends. I was feeling left out, yet again, and just sat in silence observing the gang of eight kids.
Out of all of them, Skye stood out the most, because of her clothes and because she was so loud and animated. The others were quieter and their clothing was more normal, although there was a kind of sloppiness to the way they dressed. A couple of the boys had rips in their jeans. Several of the girls wore kung-fu sneakers that were scuffed and grass-stained. Tanya’s jersey was stretched and had a hole in the elbow. I’d seen this kind of dishevelled style before. Although my classmates and I usually aspired to look pristine and perfect, some of the older kids at school dressed this way. They seemed to be saying ‘I’m so cool I don’t even have to make an effort to dress properly.’
We jumped off the bus near Deans Bush and walked down a few side streets until we reached an old weatherboard bungalow shrouded by trees. I’d never been to Skye’s place before. I’d never even known where she lived. I had no idea what to expect.
We traipsed inside, through a foyer and into a large lounge. I was immediately struck by the wood-panelled walls, decorative fireplace, bay window, and, most of all, the profusion of ornaments covering every free surface, including the shelves, windowsills and mantelpiece. I spotted ceramic figurines, African masks, engraved bowls, candelabras, metal bangles, antique children’s toys. Everywhere I looked I noticed something new.
It was nothing like my house. My parents liked tidiness, symmetry and, most of all, ordinariness. The chaos and strangeness of Skye’s place would have disturbed them.
The gang draped themselves over a pair of couches and an armchair. Skye put a record on the stereo. Several kids started smoking and someone produced a bottle of vodka from somewhere. Within seconds a sort of impromptu party was going on around me.
Everyone was in high spirits, talking and laughing loudly. I perched on the arm of one of the sofas, but no one paid any attention to me. It was as if they’d forgotten I was even there. Still, this was all a new and interesting experience for me, and it was better than being at home on my own.
My gaze drifted over to a wooden cabinet standing nearby. The top of this was smothered in knick-knacks, along with a photo in a tarnished silver frame. I leant over to examine the picture more closely and saw it was a family portrait. It must have been taken several years before as Skye looked much younger. The three kids – Skye, Obie and Jade – sat in the front row, while their parents – Liz and Ray – stood behind them. The most startling thing, though, was that they were all completely naked. None of their genitals were visible, but Liz’s breasts were on show.
‘I hate that picture,’ Skye said. She’d slipped up beside me without me noticing. ‘It’s so embarrassing. I’m going to smash it one day.’
‘It’s a bit weird,’ I said.
‘That’s my parents for you. Weirdos.’
‘Where are they? Are they in?’
‘Nah.’ She took a draw on a cigarette. ‘They split up. Ray lives in Australia. Liz is out tonight. My sister and brother are out too.’
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I considered this new information. The strange thing about this conversation was that Skye was talking to me as if we’d only just met, as if I didn’t already know her family. It wasn’t as though she was denying that she and I knew each other. But she wasn’t acknowledging it either. And I was going along with this as I didn’t know what else to do.
It’s odd when I look back on it, but Skye and I continued in this vein throughout the subsequent years. During all the time we spent together, we never once had a moment where we said something like ‘Hey, remember when we were kids and this thing happened?’ We never discussed the past. We pretended it didn’t exist, as if we’d become totally different people and were starting again from scratch.
I don’t know why we did this. Skye didn’t seem interested in reminiscing and I took my lead from her. I suppose we were both wrapped up in who we were trying to be in the present and the future. The past – our childhoods – was irrelevant and embarrassing.
Skye shook a packet of cigarettes at me. ‘You want one?’
‘Oh, no thanks. I don’t smoke.’
She raised an eyebrow. I realised my response probably made me look square and boring.
‘You want some vodka?’ she said.
‘OK.’
I wasn’t sure whether I did want any vodka, but I was absolutely not going to refuse Skye’s second offer. I was determined not to look like a dork.
Skye handed me a glass of clear liquid. I sniffed and the fumes scratched at my nostrils. The only alcohol I’d consumed before were the shandies my father gave me on special occasions. Now that it came to it, I wasn’t sure how easy it was going to be to actually drink vodka.
I held my breath and took a sip from the glass. The alcohol immediately burnt my throat and made my stomach lurch.
Skye laughed. My face was so twisted with revulsion I must have looked funny.
‘Just gulp it back in one go,’ she said. ‘Then you won’t taste it as much.’
I examined the glass. There still seemed to be a lot of vodka left in it – one large mouthful at least.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll have a bit more later.’
Skye snorted, picked up a glass from a nearby coffee table, and knocked back the contents without any hesitation. She grimaced and shivered, then grinned at me. ‘See, it’s easy.’
I raised my glass, but the moment I smelt the alcohol my stomach recoiled. I lowered the glass again. ‘I’m OK.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you a wimp?’
‘No.’
‘Well, do it, then.’
I pressed my lips together firmly. I didn’t like the way Skye was pushing me into something I didn’t want to do. She was bullying me, in a way. She was smiling, but I didn’t feel as though I was having fun.
But at the same time, I wanted to be a new Amy, and I thought the new Amy would probably drink alcohol. She wouldn’t be a wimp about it.
I gripped the glass more tightly, tipped the remaining vodka into my mouth and swallowed. Fire shot up my gullet and my eyes watered. My whole body shuddered. For a moment I thought I was going to vomit, but then the nausea subsided.
Skye cackled and slapped me on the shoulder. ‘Nice one. Have another one.’
She grabbed the vodka bottle and sloshed a generous amount into my glass. Thankfully, she didn’t stay to make sure I drank it. Instead, she rushed across the room to speak to Tanya, half tripping on the edge of the table as she passed it.
I studied Skye for a while. She was still the loudest person in the group, and seemed to be getting louder by the minute. She was working her way around the lounge, spending time with each person, waving her hands and speaking excitedly.
When she put a new record on the stereo, my attention shifted to the music. It was unlike anything I usually listened to. It sounded rough and jarring, as if it wasn’t recorded very well or the musicians weren’t very good. The guitars were jangly and the singing veered between wailing and droning. I couldn’t understand why anyone would make music like this, let alone listen to it.
I sipped a little more vodka. It still tasted revolting. Eventually the girl sitting next to me turned and talked to me for a while. I found out she was called Becky, and that she was Māori. She also told me that she, Skye and the rest of the gang all went to Riccarton High. And she explained that they all hung out at Skye’s house most weekends, as Liz was usually out.
I was surprised to learn Becky was in the fourth form at school – the year ahead of me. I was even more surprised when she told me most of the rest of the gang were as well. I knew Skye and Tanya were third-formers like me, but otherwise it seemed this group was made up of slightly older kids. This was yet another new experience for me. I’d never spent time with fourth-formers at Burnside. I’d never even dared to speak to any.
Skye appeared in front of me again and exhorted me to finish my drink. When I reluctantly emptied my glass, she refilled it with whisky, which tasted even worse than the vodka.
I spoke to Becky a little more, then got up to find the loo. I immediately noticed my legs were shaky and I felt light-headed. I stumbled slightly as I crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway. Was I drunk? Was this what being drunk felt like?
I opened a few doors and finally found the bathroom. I felt so clumsy. Everything I did seemed more difficult than usual. But it was funny. I laughed at myself as I fumbled with door handles and light switches and taps.
I made it back to the lounge and slipped into my spot next to Becky. The whole group was quiet now. Everyone was staring at Skye, who stood in the middle of the room beside the coffee table. She was busy lighting a rollie cigarette, the end sparking and flaring as she sucked on it. She inhaled deeply, then handed the rollie on to one of the boys. He took a drag and passed the cigarette to the girl next to him.
The group continued in this way, passing the rollie between them. Soon the little white stick made it to my sofa, and I watched as it was passed down the line towards me. By now, I had a creeping suspicion that it wasn’t an ordinary cigarette.
Becky took a long draw, then went to hand the rollie to me. Skye stepped forward, though, and grabbed it instead. She stood in front of me and held up the rollie.
‘You smoked this before?’ she asked.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘Dope. Marijuana.’
I didn’t know what to say. I had, of course, never smoked marijuana. I had never even seen a marijuana cigarette before. It was like something mythical, something from the movies.
‘Yeah, I’ve smoked it,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want to seem like a dork or some naive little kid who had never done anything in her life.
Skye gave me a wry smile and her eyes twinkled. I didn’t think she believed me. But she handed the rollie to me anyway, saying: ‘OK, then.’
I immediately wished I hadn’t lied. I was now holding a cigarette of marijuana. Actual marijuana. Skye was gazing at me. The rest of the group were gazing at me as well. They were all expecting me to take a drag, and it would be embarrassing if I tried to back out of it now.
The whole situation was insane. Skye and her friends were insane. How had I got myself into this mess?
I studied the rollie resting between my fingertips. It felt fragile, as though it would fall apart if I squeezed it even slightly. The end glimmered, sending up a line of smoke that smelt like burning hay. I remembered my parents telling me a few years before that, basically, if I took drugs I would die. And I’d promised them I never would. Why would I do something that would kill me?
And yet I’d just watched eight kids smoke dope and survive. I guessed that if I took just one quick puff, I would probably live. All the same, I was reluctant to do it. What if I had some kind of strange reaction? What if I was allergic to dope?
‘You going to smoke it, or what?’ Skye said.
My heart was racing now. I was afraid, but I also didn’t want to look like a wimp or an idiot. I wished I could just disappear. I wished I’d never followed Skye and the others out of the Square. I wished I was back at home, in bed.
I think it was the alcohol that made me do it in the end. If I hadn’t been slightly tipsy, I’m not sure I would have ever overcome my fear.
I steeled myself, then quickly lifted the rollie to my lips and inhaled. I had to do it suddenly, almost catching myself unawares. The smoke boiled into my mouth and shot into my lungs. Immediately, my throat started twitching. I was going to cough. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop myself. I struggled for a moment, then broke into a fit of hacking and spat out all the smoke.
Skye and the others laughed. I kept coughing, my eyes going watery. I swallowed a few times and eventually managed to get myself under control. I wiped my eyes dry and looked around at the group, who were all staring at me and sniggering. It must have been completely obvious I’d never smoked dope before. My cheeks burnt with embarrassment.
But Skye just smiled, took the cigarette from my hand, and said: ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it.’
I stayed quiet after that, barely saying another word to anyone. I didn’t want to embarrass myself further.
But at least I’d survived smoking marijuana. I’d taken drugs and lived, even though the dope didn’t seem to have done anything to me. I felt the same as before, although I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. Perhaps I’d coughed out the smoke before it could affect me.
I sipped the whisky, but it made me shudder each time I swallowed even a small amount. Eventually I glanced at an antique clock on the mantelpiece and was startled to see it was twenty to twelve. I checked my watch and confirmed that, yes, it really was that late. Alarm filtered through to my brain, despite the alcohol. I was supposed to be home by eleven. Dad would start worrying if I wasn’t back soon. Even worse, the last bus would have already left the Square and would soon be passing Deans Bush. I couldn’t miss it.
I stood up too quickly and saw black spots in front of my eyes for a second. I mumbled goodbye to Becky, which was unnecessary as she was engrossed in conversation with someone else and hadn’t even noticed me get up. I stumbled through to the foyer and wrenched open the front door. My legs still felt rubbery, but the fear of arriving home late seemed to be sobering me up.
I plunged down the steps and into the darkened garden. As I ran across the lawn, I heard a voice speak to me from the shadows beneath one of the trees. I paused, stared into the gloom and made out Skye. She was standing next to one of the boys from the group and smoking a cigarette, the glow casting her face ruddy. I hadn’t even realised she’d left the lounge.
‘Where you going?’ she said.
‘I have to get my bus.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Walk home later.’
‘I can’t. My dad… I have to go.’
I turned to leave, but then Skye said: ‘I’m having a party in a couple of weeks. You can come if you want.’
This caught my attention. A party. No one had ever invited me to a party. I’d been longing for this to happen all year.
‘Cool,’ I said, my voice slightly breathless. ‘I’ll come.’
‘OK. Friday night in two weeks. See you then.’
‘What time?’
Skye gave a derisive grunt. ‘Any fucking time.’
I nodded, understanding now that in Skye’s world, the cool world, you didn’t worry about mundane things like the time. You came and went when you wanted.
‘OK, see you,’ I said and ran off down the street.
I was worried I might miss the bus, but at the same time I was smiling. I felt as though my whole body were glowing.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRNF7it5PiO
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I inched the back door open and tiptoed into the house. I’d caught the bus, but it was still after midnight. I was hoping Dad was so busy with his work that he hadn’t noticed the time. But in fact he wasn’t even working. He was in the lounge and he stepped out into the hallway the moment I arrived.
‘Where have you been?’ he said. ‘I was getting worried.’
I still felt slightly giddy and I was concerned Dad would realise I’d been drinking. The light was off in the hallway, so at least I was partially concealed by the shadows.
‘I went to a friend’s,’ I said. ‘Sorry, I lost track of the time.’
‘It’s almost half past twelve.’
‘Yeah, I know. Sorry.’
‘Didn’t your friend’s parents say anything? Why did they let you stay up so late?’
‘Um, I think they lost track of the time too.’
Dad frowned. I could see my explanation was weak, but he didn’t say anything other than: ‘Well, OK then. But make sure you’re back by eleven in future.’
‘Yeah, I will. Definitely.’
‘Goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight.’
I slipped into my room, clicked on my bedside lamp and lay on top of my bed, still in my clothes. I giggled to myself. Everything that had happened to me that evening was crazy. Wild. I’d got drunk, at least a little bit. I’d smoked dope, of all things. I’d hung out with a group of cool people who were sort of, hopefully, my friends. I’d been invited to a party. A proper party, not some childish kid’s-birthday kind of thing.
I’d been sure I would die soon, that everything would be over for me in a matter of weeks. But now I felt very much alive. I couldn’t quite believe it.
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