Life of the Party by Christine Anderson

Author:Christine Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, god, addiction, relationship, cocaine, overdose, bible, jesus, salvation, marijuana, heroin, music fiction, rehab, teen addiction, addiction and recovery, character based, teen alcohol abuse
Publisher: Christine Anderson

CHAPTER 36

I did my tenth line of the morning, grinning as soon as I felt the sweet burn, and leaned heavily against the bathroom counter. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest, hammering against my ribs—the blood was racing through my veins. I managed a shaky smile, invigorated by the spasms of happiness and pleasure the cocaine gave me. I needed this. There was no way I could act the chipper, ever-helpful bridesmaid all day without a little help.

I sucked in a quivering breath and stared at myself in the mirror a moment. This was actually happening. I was a full-blown ballerina. The hairdresser had done my hair up in a loose French knot, with curly tendrils falling down my shoulders and my back, as if I’d just finished dancing at an intense recital or something. I’m not sure if that’s what she was going for, but that’s what it looked like. There was actually a tiara in my hair, perched upon the crown of my head, glinting in the bathroom lights. My dress was on in all its pink, sequined, crinoline splendour; my shoes resembled real ballet slippers, tied up with pink ribbons and all. I didn’t look bad, the beautician had done a great job on my make-up, giving me catty eyes in dark liner and bright red lips, so I actually looked really good. But still, I was a friggin’ ballerina.

I put the drugs back in my pink bejewelled clutch—a bridesmaid’s gift from Marcy, who had given each of us one—and snapped it shut. My eyes were still a little red and puffy from the previous night, it had been hard to stop the tears of despair once they’d finally forced their way through, once I finally felt the pain I’d tried for weeks to ignore.

I pushed the sadness away with a shake of my head and stepped out of the bathroom, eager to get this day done and over with so I could stop faking cheerfulness and revert back to my depressed state of mind. The cocaine gave me some much-needed energy. I ran around the room in shaky acceleration, taking care of last minute details, helping Whitney with her shoes, fixing Marie’s hair that kept falling from its pins. When the bridesmaids were finally ready, we crossed the hall to Marcy’s suite where she was getting dressed with my mother’s eager, helpful hands. Dad was sitting in the living room area of the suite, dressed in a stiff dark blue suit, his hair neatly combed and gelled. He looked nervous, flicking randomly through the channels on TV. He ignored me.

Marcy was a sight. I stopped in my charged walking and just stared at her a moment, locked in a drug-induced stupor. There was a flush of nervous excitement in her cheeks and her eyes twinkled happily as she looked in the mirror. Her hair was dark and sleek, straightened in a perfect bob; a simple veil was pinned in her hair with tortoiseshell combs.

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