Page 1 of Foes & Cons
CHAPTER ONE
VIGGO RASSMUSSEN
Call this a party? Where’s the virgin’s blood you promised?
Vampire Falls. Season one, episode three – “Better Late Than Dead”
If I do a little squint, he kind of looks like Kit Connor.
I close one eye and peer at the blob in front of me, then try through the other eye. Yes, see? Boy shape, hair on top. Basically, Kit Connor from Heartstopper.
“Um, what are you doing?” Kit Connor asks.
“I’m looking at you through my beer goggles,” I giggle, holding empty Corona bottles up to my eyes like a pair of binoculars. “Like, literally. Look!”
The bass of the party thuds through my skull and my ears ring from all the shouting and whooping.Somuch whooping. The party is literally bursting with whoopers. I wonder what the appeal is? Maybe I should try it.
“WHOOOP!”
Kit Connor looks alarmed but apart from that, wow, fun! Whooping is so much fun that I stumble back and steady myself against the fridge, like the whoop actually propelled me backwards with its whoop energy. The power of the whoop, am I right? I put down my beer goggles, grab my red cup and drink, drink, drink.
Look, I know I’m drunk, OK? I never get drunk, so it’s allowed (total lie, I get drunk oftentimes. Yeah. It’s a word). I’ve had a several few more than I actually should because . . .well, there’s a reason that I’m not entirely clear about now but it definitelywarranted several thousand alcohol units in a very short space of time. But I’m having a good time, which is why I came. I think.
I look at my fellow party bros and hoes (ew, did I say that? It’s because of the whooping, I’m sorry). I recognise most of them even though this isn’t a party genre I’ve ever been to before. Oh, I’ve been to parties – just more interesting ones where we watch the season finale ofVampire Falls, but this isn’t too bad. And yeah, I know, watchingVampire Fallswith your bestie isn’t technically a party but it’s a party in my heart, OK? A hearty party. Ha!
These party people are Instagram clones, I’m telling you. Like, the girls get their hair and make-up and clothes done at the same place, and the boys do lifting to get amazing shoulders that . . . oh, wait. I see someone. Him. I remember now. That’s it. He’s it. He’s why all the beer beverages.
Charlie Chamberlain swaggers past me into the long hallway, his followers (Awfuls, I call them) flocking round him like brain-dead flies on well-coiffed shit. He high fives them because, you know, bros, then leans against the banister and looks down the hallway, right at me. Honestly, I think he might have a wind machine app or something because his hair looks like it’s moving in a gentle summer breeze. Not that I care about his hair, but he obviously got ready in a hurry because that tuft behind his right ear is sticking up. Couldn’t wait to make his grand entrance, I guess.
I tuck my own greasy curls behind my ear and watch him pretend he hasn’t noticed all theI-had-a-wet-dream-about-you-last-nightlooks. He doesn’t break eye contact with me, and I’m not looking away from him. Why should I? I was here first. In the kitchen, I mean. And no, I didn’t have a wet dream about him last night.
I feel hands around my shoulders and look round. Oh yeah! I’d forgotten about Kit Connor. He pulls me up from my actuallyquite comfy leaning-on-the-fridge position. Once I’m upright again, I scan the kitchen for more of those lovely jelly shots. I mean,just lovely.You should try them. They make your tongue go all red.
“Now what are you doing?” Kit Connor asks.
“Huh?”
“Why are you sticking your tongue out like that?”
“Oh, ha!” I snort, looking cross-eyed at my tongue. “Look, it’s all red!”
“OK . . .” he says, frowning and looking around. “Where did you say your friend was?”
My friend? Roxy! Oh, my goodness, I forgot Roxy was here! At the party. Here. With me. I love Roxy. I take another slurp of my drink.
“Where’s Roxy?” I say, whirling around.
Someone bumps into me and makes me spill my drink on them. Rude.
“Yeah, that’s what I was . . .” starts Kit Connor, but the best thing has just happened and I can’t listen to him any more.
“Roxy! My Roxy!” I exclaim, as my very best personal friend comes through the back door.
I give her the best hug; you know like when there isn’t enough hug for someone you loveso muchand you have to squeeze their breath out, so they know how much you truly love them? That kind of hug.
“There you are,” she says. “Where did you go? Uh, you’restranglingme. Who’s this?”
“Roxy, this is Kit Connor. Kit, this is my Roxy.”
