Winter 2001

“I couldn’t fathom the idea of living with premeditated intentions. I was the girl who acted on impulse and disregarded any consequences that tried to stop me from being in the ‘now’. I lived to break the rules, to bend them just a little to feel excitement. I craved for the adventure of almost getting caught, for it was those anxiety filled moments that got my heart racing. The mixture of fear, adrenaline, and unadulterated fun is what made my blood warm and my mind spin. It was my addiction.”

“Elizabeth Woolridge Grant! What do you think you are doing?!” I heard my mother’s stern voice yelled as she stood in front of me.

I was swaying back and forth, trying to regain my balance but I knew it was useless, for I was wasted. My hair smelled like cigarettes and my breath was tainted with the cherry schnapps I downed earlier. I could see my vision blurring; however, I kept it glued on my mother’s face, for she was steady and livid.

“Lizzie, do you imagine what our neighbors are thinking? Do you even realize how trashy you look!” My mother yelled making me jolt a little.

This is really the reason my mother was yelling at me: she was worried what our neighbor’s thought. She had a façade to keep up when it came to what other’s thought. We were the American Dream, the perfect family that lived in a big house with a hefty income to a point where my mother didn’t need to work. When we first stumbled upon our riches—when my father became partner of one of the finest law firms on the west coast—that was when my mother’s attitude shifted. She was no longer the humble person who used to cut coupons out of a penny saver just so we could get food on the table. No, she turned into a snob, looking down on the person she used to be, for she no longer did such normal things like grocery shopping. She kissed her old self goodbye and restructured a completely new being. She was no longer Pat Grant, but rather Patricia Genevieve Grant—someone who I’ve grown to despise. She was a stranger who wore my mother’s skin, a stranger who had my mother voice and eyes, but a stranger nonetheless.

“I’m fine.” I slurred. My words jumbled and collided together, making my sentence incoherent.

I knew I wasn’t fine. Nothing about right now was fine. I was drunk, hammered to the point where I wasn’t sure who I was with just a minute ago. I remember the party, I remember the cops chasing us and the laughter that filled the compact car, but the faces of the people that surrounded me was one big blur. I remember feeling someone’s hot lips on my skin, but other than that I was numb—and it’s usually how I liked it. I liked having alcohol whisk me away from my reality, placing me in this almost heaven-like state where I felt completely free.

“You are fifteen Elizabeth! Getting drunk at your age is what lowlife’s do.” She snapped with a vicious snarl in her voice.

The thing with my mother is that she’s an ice queen—and I don’t mean it in a sense where she does hardcore drugs for thrills. No, nothing like that. In fact, I think my mother should dabble in some drugs just so she can loosen the stick that was lodged in her ass, but no, my mother is cold-hearted. She reminds me of a marble statue: beautiful and immaculate. I blame the money getting to her head that she doesn’t realize the snob she’s become.

“I guess I’m a lowlife.” I shrugged wishing this conversation would end. I could feel the alcohol turning on me, making my stomach twist with unease and my head throb a little.

“God, don’t you understand that you can’t just act out like this just because you feel like it. You are a teenager Lizzie, so you better start acting like it.” She scolded.

I nodded along, barely listening to a word she said.

“Are we done here?” I asked in a bored manner.

“Just clean up Lizzie. You look disgusting.” She dismissed with the wave of her hand. I turned on my heels and climbed up our winding staircase.

I walked into the nicely furbished room and collapsed on my bed. I knew my makeup was probably smearing into my Egyptian Cotton pillow case and I probably needed a shower, but I just wanted to sleep off the turmoil in my stomach caused by the alcohol.

---

I woke up to the blaring sun beaming down on me. I had once again slept through a whole day, skipping school due to a raging hangover. The clock on my bedside table read 3:36 in the afternoon. Stretching out my stiff muscles, I got up and walked into the shower. I stepped into the cascading warm water and quickly rinsed out the grime from last night. I quickly washed my hair as I continued to wonder about who I was with last night.

I remember dancing with Maggie and Cassidy before going down to the local pub. They didn’t check ID’s there which made the three of us regulars. I remember Maggie chatting up some college guys while Cass hustled pool in the corner table with some fresh faces, and then I remember the scatter of tattoos that trailed up his right arm—I guess it was the reason why I was attracted to him. I remember him sitting across of me as we ordered drink after drink, loosening me up to find it comfortable to sit on his lap. I remember his breath fanning my face because he’d lean into me whenever he spoke. He was delicious that I remember going outside to share a smoke with him. However, I don’t remember his name—it was lost within my unreliable brain.

I smiled as I started to get dress because my reflection showed the prominent hickeys that were showcasing on my neck. I looked at it and bit my lip deviously before pulling on my leggings, t-shirt, sweater, and boots. I walked downstairs to only be greeted by Greta, our house maid. I knew my mother was probably at her spin class or out shopping with her flock of friends. She’d never waste a day by reprimanding me which was fine because I liked the freedom. Greta had a look of disapproval on her face as I walked past her and into the kitchen, grabbing out a bottle water before heading to the coat closet and shrugging on my jacket. Winter’s in New York were freezing and I took extra precautions by wrapping a scarf around my neck. Looking up my street, I saw Maggie and Cassidy waiting for me. I skipped towards them in delight.

“I’m surprised you’re not grounded Mags.” I smiled at my best friend.

She smirked back at me. “I think they’re tired of repeating themselves that they just dub me a lost cause.”

Maggie tucked back her burgundy hair before placing her large sunglasses in the curve of her nose, making it block out the high noon sun. I followed suit since my hangover wasn’t completely gone.

Cassidy laughed. “Well we’re all lost causes here. My folks think I’m certifiably nuts.”

“It’s because you are.” I quipped back.

“So did you give that guy your number last night?” Maggie asked, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

Cassidy giggled. “I hope so! You almost fucked him in the alley.”

I scrunched my nose. “Was I really that drunk?”

My two friends stopped walking to stare at me with an expression that said ‘duh’.

I shook my head. “I don’t even remember his name.”

Maggie snorted. “Oh my God! What a slut.” She teased.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m the slut? If I remember correctly, you were flirting up a storm with those guys from NYU.” I pointed out.

“My flirting didn’t involve with some guys tongue down my throat.” She remarked.

Cassidy started to giggled. “While you two were busy with boys, I made 500 flat on the pool tables.” She smirked proudly.

Cassidy was a hell of a pool champ. She loved to hustle a rotating circle of tourists who would go to Nicky’s—the pub we were at last night.

“Maybe we can do some well deserved retail therapy.” Maggie suggested before adding “I swiped my mother’s Visa so we can go crazy.”

The three of us smiled wickedly before quickly hailing a cab to take us in the heart of New York.

Notes

@HiddenBeauty You're next! :) I hope I left you at a good jumping off point and if I didn't then I'm sure you can salvage it <3

@TheBandWriter You'll be following up after @HiddenBeauty. Good luck guys! :D

To the new readers, this is my first collab story. I hope you guys like it and feel free to let us know what you think of the story <3