Lucy in the Sky

wonder.
    ‘Is this a gay bar?’ I yell.
    ‘Lucy!’ Molly screams, outraged. ‘No, it bloody isn’t. I want to be flirted with on my last single Saturday!’
    ‘Humph,’ I say. The guys here look pretty gay to me.
    We split up and half of the hens head to the bar while Molly and I and a couple of others make our way to the dance floor.Immediately a group of guys gyrate up against us, disgustingly. I’ve had too much to drink and I’m feeling a bit too out of it for this. Plus I’m missing Nathan–no, James it should be–so I excuse myself and go and sit in the corner. Minutes later Molly appears with a couple of waters and slumps down next to me.
    ‘Fanks,’ I say glumly, and take a sip. We sit for a few minutes watching the mayhem on the dance floor.
    ‘Is this hard for you?’ Molly turns to me suddenly, struggling to be serious.
    ‘Why, because my own relationship’s so shit?’ I sink down further in my seat.
    ‘No, because of how you feel for Sam.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ I sit up, immediately alert.
    ‘Sorry, I mean how you felt for Sam. Back in high school,’ she corrects herself.
    ‘You knew about that?’
    ‘Of course I did,’ she says. ‘You were–you are –my besht friend. How could I not?’
    ‘Did Sam know?’ How mortifying.
    ‘Nah.’ Molly shakes her head. ‘He’s a man. They’re oblivious to everything.’
    ‘Well, I can tell you now that I am well and truly over him,’ I say, passionately over-pronouncing every word of my statement.
    ‘I know you are.’ She looks back to the dance floor.
    ‘No, I am . I really am.’ This is excruciating.
    ‘I know, Lucy. You’re with James now, and you guys will work things out.’
    ‘Of course we will,’ I insist, overenthusiastically.
    The truth is I don’t at this precise moment think we will. James seems part of another world. A world which I’m no longera part of. My world feels like it’s right here, right now, with Molly’s fiancé’s twenty-three-year-old surfer brother. But I’m hardly going to tell her that. Even drunk as a skunk, I know how ridiculous it sounds.
    Jenny appears, blowing that goddamn penis whistle, and I feel bizarrely thankful for the rude interruption. We drag Molly back up onto the dance floor.
    Two hours later, when we are all well and truly past it, we stumble out of the nightclub and back into the waiting limo. Hot Mark Ruffalo glances at us in the rear-view mirror. ‘Manly?’ he asks.
    ‘Yes, please,’ I manage to tell him.
    Molly’s boss and a couple of the other girls have already left, but we drop Amanda, Jenny and Bea at various points along the way and eventually approach the Harbour Bridge. There are seagulls or bats–I’m not sure which–flying above it, looking like hundreds of flecks of ash floating around in the light of the uplit buildings.
    Molly and I lean back sleepily in our seats. ‘I don’t feel well,’ she murmurs.
    The house is dark when we get home; the boys aren’t back yet. For the first time it occurs to me that Nathan might come back to the house with Sam. I hope he does. I hope so much that it hurts.
    Molly stumbles upstairs towards the bedroom and plonks herself down on the bed, dragging me with her. ‘That was the besht night,’ she tells me.
    ‘Hey?’ Sam’s voice is bleary in the darkness.
    ‘Sorry!’ I whisper loudly, startled that he’s there.
    It’s only the last couple of steps that are bothersome. But fortunately I don’t tumble down the whole flight. The door to‘Nathan’s’ bedroom is closed. I lie in my own bed, willing myself to sober up, still wondering if he’s next door. Sleep eventually takes me and the next thing I know I’m dying of thirst and daylight is spilling down from underneath my blinds.

Chapter 6
    BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!
    Huh? I think sleepily.
    BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!
    Bert the bat?
    The door flings open and Molly is standing there in the doorway, pretending to be furious.
    ‘What the hell is THIS?’ She lifts up the pink fluffy handcuffs which are attached to her arm. ‘Call yourself my best friend and you don’t even uncuff me?’
    I try to sit up but someone whacks me on the back of the head with a hammer. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.
    ‘Ow!’ I slouch back onto the pillow, holding my hand to my forehead.
    ‘Yes, ow ,’ she says. ‘How do you think I feel? I’ve been bloody arrested!’
    ‘Stop it, you’re making me laugh.’
    Molly looks down at me sternly. ‘I hope