Read Online Crossing the Line by Dianne Bates - Free Book Online

time. The boys head off for beers while Tracey and I find a table and scrounge some chairs. Tracey’s full of stories. She tells them with great excitement but I’m unable to focus on anything she says. The thoughts in my head are screaming – so much turmoil.
    ‘Sophie!’ It’s Greta. She’s dressed in a textured silver mini-skirt, skyscraper-high party shoes, and her boobs are almost hanging out of her low-cut top. ‘Well, I’m here,’ she says. ‘What now?’
    Matt turns up at that moment with drinks, takes one look at Greta and gulps. Obviously he likes what he sees. Is it my imagination, or is she leaning slightly forward so he can get a better view of what she’s offering? No, it’s definitely not my imagination. I’m forgotten as she and Matt slip into an animated conversation, like long-lost friends reunited.
    ‘You want to watch that girl,’ Tracey says. ‘She’s moving fast.’
    I laugh it off. ‘Doesn’t bother me. Good luck to her.’
    The music is pounding, drumming loudly in my head to compete with the confusion there.
    ‘Drink up, girls.’ Boyd delivers the remaining drinks to our table.
    I gulp down my beer. I’m not used to drinking and I don’t know what it might do to me. But I intend to find out. I make for the bar and order a shot of tequila – the barman doesn’t question my age – put it away fast and order another. The warm, fuzzy feeling that descends upon me settles my mind. I tap my foot and sway with the beat of the music. It’s a wild band. A guy comes up, invites me to dance. I go with him but I’m unsteady on my feet. He holds me. ‘Take it easy, sweetheart.’ Then I’m dancing, losing myself, forgetting that my new best friend is not far away. With Matt. My Matt.
    ‘Hey.’ My dance partner’s lips are hot against my ear. ‘You want to come to my place? I’ve got much better music there.’
    ‘No!’ I jerk away from him.
    ‘Okay. Jesus.’ He shoulders past me and disappears into the crowd.
    Back at the bar I order a vodka, lime and soda.
    ‘You okay, love?’ Tracey asks when I return to my seat.
    ‘Sure.’
    Greta’s at the table too, sipping some sort of cocktail. I give her a look. She’s lucky that’s all I give her.
    ‘Matt bought it for me.’ She grins. ‘You didn’t tell me what a spunk he is.’
    Spunk. Sunk. Dunk. Drunk. The words swirl around my head. I can see them bobbing up and down like ducks in water. They make me grin.
    ‘You’re drunk, girl.’ Greta stands, grabs me by my elbow and manoeuvres me towards the Ladies. Once inside, she heads into a cubicle, talking the whole time. ‘If Matt’s already taken, if you and he have something going, then I’ll back off. You just give me the word. But if you don’t want him . . .’ She prattles on and on.
    All I can think is how odd I feel. The ground seems to be moving under my feet, as though I’m on an escalator, going down, down, down. I clutch the hand basin but my legs slip from under me and I land on my bum, find myself sitting on the cold tiles. Cold bum, warm head. It’s so funny!
    ‘What are you laughing about?’
    Greta comes out of the cubicle, sees me on the floor and bends over, offering me a hand.
    ‘God, Sophie. How much have you had to drink?’
    ‘Just enough!’
    For once my teeming fevered brain is full of nothing but bubbles. I feel woozy and suddenly wonderful.
    ‘Come on. Let’s get you home.’ Greta yanks at me, trying to pull me upright, but I want to stay forever on the cool floor.
    Now she’s splashing tap water over me.
    ‘Stop it. Leave me alone.’
    She ignores me.
    ‘You must be blazing hot in that jacket.’
    She kneels down and starts to take it off me.
    My words are slurred but still she must be able to understand a ‘No!’ – a yelled ‘No!’ It doesn’t stop her. She pulls the jacket clear of me and through bleary eyes I see her staring at the cuts and scars on my arms.
    ‘You stupid idiot,’ she says. ‘You stupid, stupid