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Authors: Lili Wilkinson
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I see Tahni on my way to Politics, I invite her to Ninaâs party.
9 hul·la·ba·loo
ânoun; a clamorous or exciting noise or disturbance; uproar.
â A Wordsmithâs Dictionary of Hard-to-spell Words
Five things I'd never done before this week:
1 Kissed a boy for hours until my lips went numb
2 Spoken to Nina Kennan
3 Been to Nina Kennan's house
4 Been to a proper, no grown-ups, lots of beer party like in American teen movies
5 Drank beer
Iâm doing all of them right now. Iâm not so crazy about the beer, which tastes like the bottom of a laundry basket, but everything else is fantastic.
Iâm sitting on Benâs lap in Ninaâs living room, and the party is flowing around us. Thereâs music and dancing and lots of people pashing and groping in corners.
Ben and I are the King and Queen of the party. Weâre sitting on our floral upholstered throne, watching our court whirl by. Itâs awesome.
Flashback. Two hours ago, I am a pathetic quivering mess.
What do I wear to a party? I pull every single thing out of my wardrobe. I try on jeans and skirts and dresses. They all make me look like Iâm going to a birthday party where thereâll be a clown, lolly-bags and a cake shaped like a fairy.
I end up raiding Mumâs old collection of hippie clothes. After much deliberation, I choose a middle-eastern-looking cream and pink lace top, which I wear over a black singlet and jeans. Itâs . . . different. I almost take it off and start again, but I figure with the clothes available to me, my choices are âboringâ or âdifferentâ, and âdifferentâ wins. âCoolâ or âhotâ are not options.
I would have been nervous about dressing for a party anyway, but this is the first time Ben will see me out of school uniform. I donât want him to realise he is going out with boring old Midge who would quite happily wear school uniform on the weekends.
I want him to see interesting, funny, beautiful Midge, with an eclectic dress sense.
So I add a few strings of beads and some dangly earrings from Mumâs jewellery box, and a badge from a school excur sion that says âI ⥠Happy Endingsâ. I try putting on some of Mumâs make-up, but the result is absolutely ridiculous. Surely the point of make-up is that you end up looking better than you do in your natural state. I end up looking like a hooker. And anyway, I donât want make-up to rub off onto Benâs face while weâre kissing. That would be embarrassing to the point of death.
Mum canât decide whether to be proud or concerned that I am going to a Proper Teenage Party.
âWill Ninaâs parents be there?â she asks.
âOf course,â I lie, hoping Mum wonât call and check.
âAnd boys? Will there be boys?â
âYes, Mum. There will be boys.â
âAnd alcohol?â
âI donât think so,â I tell her. âBut if there is, I promise not to drink any. Or get too close to any of the boys. Or get pregnant. Or take drugs, or take lollies from strange men. Or cross the road without looking both ways.â
âDonât be smart, Midge,â Mum says.
âOh!â I add. âAnd I will absolutely eat my greens and my crusts so I grow up big and strong.â
She pushes me out the door and follows me to the car.
âJust promise me youâll be careful,â she says, as we reverse down the driveway.
âI promise, Mum.â
I wonder what sheâd do if I told her I intend to kiss my boyfriend all night. Frankly, sheâd probably throw a party.
I have a brief and painful memory of the surprise family gathering she organised when I first got my period. She served pink, fizzy drinks in champagne glasses, and made whole-wheat strawberry tarts and a very red tofu casserole. She found a red tablecloth and decorated the house with red balloons and streamers. She also made a
9 hul·la·ba·loo
ânoun; a clamorous or exciting noise or disturbance; uproar.
â A Wordsmithâs Dictionary of Hard-to-spell Words
Five things I'd never done before this week:
1 Kissed a boy for hours until my lips went numb
2 Spoken to Nina Kennan
3 Been to Nina Kennan's house
4 Been to a proper, no grown-ups, lots of beer party like in American teen movies
5 Drank beer
Iâm doing all of them right now. Iâm not so crazy about the beer, which tastes like the bottom of a laundry basket, but everything else is fantastic.
Iâm sitting on Benâs lap in Ninaâs living room, and the party is flowing around us. Thereâs music and dancing and lots of people pashing and groping in corners.
Ben and I are the King and Queen of the party. Weâre sitting on our floral upholstered throne, watching our court whirl by. Itâs awesome.
Flashback. Two hours ago, I am a pathetic quivering mess.
What do I wear to a party? I pull every single thing out of my wardrobe. I try on jeans and skirts and dresses. They all make me look like Iâm going to a birthday party where thereâll be a clown, lolly-bags and a cake shaped like a fairy.
I end up raiding Mumâs old collection of hippie clothes. After much deliberation, I choose a middle-eastern-looking cream and pink lace top, which I wear over a black singlet and jeans. Itâs . . . different. I almost take it off and start again, but I figure with the clothes available to me, my choices are âboringâ or âdifferentâ, and âdifferentâ wins. âCoolâ or âhotâ are not options.
I would have been nervous about dressing for a party anyway, but this is the first time Ben will see me out of school uniform. I donât want him to realise he is going out with boring old Midge who would quite happily wear school uniform on the weekends.
I want him to see interesting, funny, beautiful Midge, with an eclectic dress sense.
So I add a few strings of beads and some dangly earrings from Mumâs jewellery box, and a badge from a school excur sion that says âI ⥠Happy Endingsâ. I try putting on some of Mumâs make-up, but the result is absolutely ridiculous. Surely the point of make-up is that you end up looking better than you do in your natural state. I end up looking like a hooker. And anyway, I donât want make-up to rub off onto Benâs face while weâre kissing. That would be embarrassing to the point of death.
Mum canât decide whether to be proud or concerned that I am going to a Proper Teenage Party.
âWill Ninaâs parents be there?â she asks.
âOf course,â I lie, hoping Mum wonât call and check.
âAnd boys? Will there be boys?â
âYes, Mum. There will be boys.â
âAnd alcohol?â
âI donât think so,â I tell her. âBut if there is, I promise not to drink any. Or get too close to any of the boys. Or get pregnant. Or take drugs, or take lollies from strange men. Or cross the road without looking both ways.â
âDonât be smart, Midge,â Mum says.
âOh!â I add. âAnd I will absolutely eat my greens and my crusts so I grow up big and strong.â
She pushes me out the door and follows me to the car.
âJust promise me youâll be careful,â she says, as we reverse down the driveway.
âI promise, Mum.â
I wonder what sheâd do if I told her I intend to kiss my boyfriend all night. Frankly, sheâd probably throw a party.
I have a brief and painful memory of the surprise family gathering she organised when I first got my period. She served pink, fizzy drinks in champagne glasses, and made whole-wheat strawberry tarts and a very red tofu casserole. She found a red tablecloth and decorated the house with red balloons and streamers. She also made a
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