Worse Than Boys(13)

Erin swished towards us in her bridesmaid’s dress. ‘Having a nice time?’ She squeezed herself into a chair beside me. ‘Did you see who was serving at my table?’

We told her we had.

‘I kept looking out to make sure she wasn’t spitting in my soup,’ she said.

‘She was being so rude.’

Erin agreed with me at once. ‘You’re telling me! I shouted after her to get more crusty bread and she totally ignored me. How she was allowed to serve at the top table I’ll never know.’ She pulled up her dress and took off her shoes and began rubbing her toes. ‘My feet are killing me and I’ve got to dance with the best man.’

We looked across the hall and there he was, waving at her. He was the drippiest-looking guy I had ever seen, and to make things worse he was wearing a kilt.

‘If I had legs like that I’d have them amputated.’ I giggled. ‘They look like a couple of matchsticks under a pelmet.’

I think he heard because he turned and glared at me. Either that or he was really constipated.

Erin’s brother, Calum, brought our special bowl of punch to us. ‘Just for you, girls,’ he said. Calum was dishy, but not interested in any of us, of course. He was with his mates and they all moved off in search of good-looking female guests.

After the first waltz, Erin was finally free to join us. She ladled punch into her glass and we all giggled and laughed and talked about everyone at the wedding.

Just for a moment, I sat back in my chair. Everyone in the hall seemed to become just shadows in the background. The lights dimmed and the music faded. My friends were leaning across the table, laughing. It was as if we were the only real people in the room.

And I thought to myself, This is the best night of my life.





Chapter Twelve


The night just seemed to get better after that.

The band announced there had been a request for Rose to go up to sing. It was actually me who requested it, though I didn’t tell her that. She was over the moon. She tried to pretend she was mortified, couldn’t possibly sing in front of all these people, but she was up on that stage before you could say Pop Idol.

She sang ‘Summer Lovin’. I knew she would. She’d been practising it for ages. It was the song she planned to sing at the audition for the school show, although as Rose liked to inform us, the actual title was ‘Summer Nights’. ‘Summer Nights’ or ‘Summer Lovin’, she managed to squeeze in two more verses – I think she made them up. The band began to think she was never getting off the stage, so they finally stopped playing and she had to shut up. We leapt to our feet when she’d finished, cheering and clapping and stamping our feet enthusiastically.

‘If she sings like that at the auditions, she’ll definitely get the part of Sandy,’ Erin said. ‘She’s not got any competition anyway. She’s the best singer in the school.’

We were up for every dance after that, from the Slosh to the Highland Fling. As soon as the music started we were up there, in the middle of the floor, causing havoc, knocking people over, laughing ourselves silly.

At the line dancing they started getting really annoyed at us. Erin and I were pushed off the floor.

‘Some people are trying to dance here,’ one of the guests said. The man had changed into cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat. Considering he was also still wearing his kilt, he looked ridiculous.

‘How can you take this seriously?’ I yelled back at him.

When we got back to our table, Calum had brought us more punch. ‘This is great stuff,’ I told him. ‘I don’t normally like lemonade.’

Calum and his pals laughed so much I thought they were about to have a fit. ‘Maybe the vodka’s got something to do with it.’

They all walked away, still laughing. I looked at Erin. For the first time I noticed her eyes were crossed. ‘Did he say vodka?’

‘My mum’ll kill him if she finds that out,’ she said, taking another sip.

We watched Heather and Rose stumbling about on the dance floor, tumbling against people, annoying everyone.

‘I don’t think he’s kidding. I think it is vodka he put in there. No wonder we’re having so much fun.’ That only made us giggle all the more. ‘Don’t tell them,’ I said, pointing at Heather and Rose.

Then we both giggled. The country music stopped at last. The daft line dancers reluctantly left the floor, and we were suddenly grabbed by two of Erin’s uncles and pulled on to the floor for a Gay Gordons. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a dance that includes a lot of twirling and birling, and halfway through I saw Erin’s face turn as green as my outfit.