Rachel's Fire: 06

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Look back twelve years to 1987.
843 words
14k
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Part 6 of the 13 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 07/05/2001
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(JANICE)
Look back twelve years. 1987. I was a nobody. Just this shy wee virgin. I was 18 years old and I wanted to be a punk. I wanted to be a punk and I wanted to get laid. Everyone I knew claimed to have been living the carnal life for at least the past two years. My best friend Janice - this kooky black girl with spiked hair and a delicate little stud in her nose (years before this was fashionable) - said she did it when she was 14. My only vaguely sexual experience so far had been a quick snog with Bethny Dochertys over-weight brother Gary. This didnt quite live up to all my pals*s tales of unbridled passion with assorted hunks so Id also invented The Groping IncIdent.

The Groping IncIdent had reputedly taken place with some dreamy guy Id met on holIday in the Highlands when I was 16. I had a fully developed plot/ indepth characterisation and even photographic evIdence (an out-of-focus picture of me hugging my cousin Philip the previous Christmas). Of course nobody bought any of this but it was better than no story at all.

So.

Friday night. Janice and I are in my untidy wee bedroom in our underwear trying on things to wear to the party.

Ive taken down the lampshade and a bare red bulb now hangs from the socket above. The whole room blazes scarlet. My newest punk compilation is playing loudly from the cassette player over there on the dressing table.

*Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment* by The Ramones.

Although it was Janice who introduced me to punk rock she is quite indifferent to it. Its nothing important to her. Just another way for her to annoy her Dad along with smoking pot and staying out too late.

Meanwhile Im utterly obsessed. My life is drastically changing. Im experiencing so many new adult things and punk rock seems to be the focus for all this. Raw and wild/ just like my emotions.

*Can you no ask your Mum for mair cola?* asks Jan nodding at the Bacardi bottle. She absentmindedly scratches a nail beneath the knicker-elastic at the top of her leg.

Weve just about finished the Bacardi off and theres nothing left to mix it with. I shake my head. *None left.* I pick her leather jeans up from the bed. *Can I try these on Niece?*

Jan nods/ puts the bottle to her lips and knocks back her head.

Straight Bacardi.

She splutters/ wipes her mouth and offers me the bottle.

*Nah.* I shake my head and zip up the trousers.

*Youre a fuckin girls blouse Rach. Jen up* she snears in mock disgust.

*I feel sick.*

Jan shrugs and gulps back the remains of the alcohol. *You ARE sick girlie.*

*Whats this like?* Ive pulled on a huge baggy black woollen jumper that reaches down to my knees.

*Its awright* says Jan without looking up. She is very carefully and delicately applying pink nail-polish to her big toe.

Pogoing across the room - GABBA-GABBA HEY! - I swipe the brush from her fingers.

*Piss off!* she squeels. She is laughing. *Daft bitch.*

I pick the bottle of polish up from the floor and begin to paint my own nails.

Jan is now pulling on my pink dress. She always looks so confident and striking. Men are terrified of her.

*Wish we had more money* I say. *We could do to get another half bottle for the party. Dyou not think?*

*Theyll have plenty booze there* says Jan who is rummaging about in her handbag. She brings out a tiny bottle. *Have you ever tried rush?* She stares unblinking into my eyes. *Its pure radge.*

*What is it?*

*Rush. Amyl Nitrate. Wee James gave us it.* She proceeds to unscrew the lid and puts the bottle up to her nose. She holds her left nostril shut/ breathes in deeply and smiles/ quickly covering the bottletop with her thumb (presumably to prevent the fumes from escaping). Her pupils swell right up like shes in cartoon love.

*Its fuckin barry. Like an orgasm. Try it!*

Im not keen on the idea but Jan always makes me try things at least once.

*Mind n keep it covered* she warns.

*Is it dangerous?* Im scared.

*Probably.* Realising I could well change my mind about the whole deal she quickly adds *Nah it cannae be. They use it for folk wi dodgy hearts.*

I take the bottle and follow the procedure. Almost immediately after breathing in the strange fumes I can feel or hear my heartbeat speed up and start thudding loudly in my chest. A great rush of blood fills my head. In the mirror I can see my cheeks darkening as they flush. The music seems to swell up. It vibrates through me. Screaming and grinding.

*Bodies* by the Sex Pistols.

My head rolls backwards. Covering the top of the bottle I shut my eyes.

Jan is chuckling away to herself at my expense. *Its like a fuckin orgasm eh?*

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