The Jump That Left Me Stranded

Chapter 3

I'm not sure what I expect when I finally reach Newsome Street. Perhaps a dark house with a congregation outside: all of them cloaked and holding candles, raising them to the sky in a silent and sorrowful vigil? That's what I picture when someone says the words 'farewell party'.

This is definitely not a farewell party. 

To put it simply, it's just another high school party, but of epic proportions. If this weren't the rich side of town, I'd be thoroughly surprised that the carouse seems to sprawl out the length of three houses; it's actually just one gigantic mansion. There's screeching and jeering and drinking. I hate to admit this is exactly the kind of goodbye Grace would have wanted. 

I stop briefly at the street corner. Should I? It would be oh-so-easy to just go home, or to the park. But I can't: Jenny would want to know why I didn't show, and deep inside I hear Grace's voice - she's jeering me on. She wouldn't want me to stay the sad, lonely freak with no friends and no fun. And if this is like a second, vastly less formal wake, then part of me feels obliged to attend. Always for Grace. 

So I brave it through the front door. No one turns a head: they're all too preoccupied to notice the dead girl's sister, or maybe they don't even know me? If that's the case, then all the better. One month ago I stopped being Natalie Ballard, and I became the sad sack: Grace's poor sister. And I don't know if neglect or pity is worse. 

Someone slams right into me in their quest for the living room, and momentarily I stumble. Bracing myself against someone else (kind enough to offer me their arm, before disappearing into a throng of dancers) I regain my balance. My coordination is compromised by the jerky movements, loud noises and flashing phone-lights. Still, squinting through the darkness of the room, I make out a blonde head in the kitchen. Jenny?

It's like trekking through a jungle: I have to carve my way through the room to move, nudging people aside like thick foliage. A drink sloshes on me, but because of my wind-breaker it just runs straight off and starts dripping to the floor. This is what people rave about at school? These parties? Where people are too close and too brash and I feel my heart beating faster and faster and my head-

Breathe. 

I've made it to the kitchen: at least in here things are clearly lit and I can gather my wits. It is Jenny by the island, I see, and she's doling out drinks from a keg that sits on the counter. Her eyes grow wide when she spots me, 

"Natalie? Wow I-" She shakes her head, stunned. "Hi! Want a drink?" Her movements are surprisingly fluid and controlled, and I gather from this that she isn't drunk. She reaches for the keg tap, poised with a red cup in one hand.

"Actually," I interject before she fills it, "can I just have some Diet Coke?" 

She nods, already on her way to the fridge before I've finished speaking. For a moment she scans the shelves before pulling out a red can. Shooting me an apologetic look, she says:

"Sorry, no diet. Only the real stuff." 

I shrug and take the drink, fiddling with the tab while she takes out a can of her own. 

"Thanks for inviting me." 

"Nah, it's cool. We thought," She pauses. "well, we thought you might want a distraction." 

I nod and bite my lip, not meeting her eyes. Farewell party. Distraction. Or lies? Looking around at all these people here - every single one enjoying themselves - I remark that none have the burden of a broken family. They're not walking around like a lost shadow with no body, which is exactly how I feel. I hover in the spaces where Grace should be. Do they know? Is that what they see, when they look at me?