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|How New Year's Was (standard:other, 0 words)|
|Author: AJ||Added: Jun 04 2001||Views/Reads: 2101/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A group of friends spend their New Year's Eve at the east river...|
“I love everybody!” The drunken shout drifted across the river and reached us as a whisper. The source was visible, lit up like a miniature sun on the inky water. People spotted the deck of the party boat. A few bars of quiet music crept ashore, then retreated, and were washed back to us. “Tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 1999.” George was sprawled on the bench, his gold cardboard, red feathered tiara askew on his blonde head. Hilary leaned dangerously far over the railing; her face lit up by the muted boat, gazing at the bridge and the city. Her shiny black plastic top hat had ‘2000’ inscribed on it with silver glitter. I lit the tip of the already charred stick and doodled on the concrete beach with the crumbling black remains. We could hear Ceetee’s high-pitched laughter from the unlit basketball court. She was trying to play Frisbee in tight leather pants with a group of boys she’d attracted to the East River. The basketball court was as dark as the inside of a Magic 8 Ball before your fortune surfaces. The only light was the glint of Ceetee’s fake jewel encrusted, pointy princess hat and the liquid serpentine twisting of its white ribbon. “George, are you alive?” Hilary asked repeatedly, at intervals of about five minutes. He didn’t answer, but he stroked my hair with his hand. “Shit!” Hilary exclaimed, as her top hat fell into the dark water, shedding glitter. She plopped down on George’s legs, pouting. “I liked that hat.” I reached into my purse and took out my pink and purple sparkly crown. I tossed it onto Hilary’s lap. She made a face and yelled, “Ceetee!” A few minutes later, Ceetee stumbled into the relative brightness near our bench. Her breath filled the icy air with little puffs of white steam. She tripped. The mixture of vodka and high heels affected her balance. Hilary prodded George. “Go help her, George.” When he didn’t budge, she poked harder. “George...” she whined. He didn’t move. Hilary carefully positioned my crown on her head and walked over to Ceetee. She dragged Ceetee to the bench and dumped her onto George. Then she sat next to Ceetee, on George’s back. “Ceetee,” Hilary said, “Truth or Dare?” Ceetee shifted her position on George’s bony ass, which Hilary interpreted as “Dare.” “Okay, Dare...” Hilary mused. “Marj, help me think of one.” I shrugged. “Okay, Ceetee, I dare you to climb over the railing and hang by your hands for ten seconds.” Ceetee began plucking at the fake feathers on George’s tiara. “Ceetee, are you turning down the Dare?” Hilary asked. “Okay then, George. I dare you to...kiss Marj.” She smirked, but her eyes darted from me to George nervously. I had to smile, because I knew that she wanted to be the one to kiss George. I reached up and touched my mouth to George’s slack smile. He nibbled my upper lip and I laughed into his teeth. “All right, enough,” Hilary said, with a clenched jaw. We ignored her for a moment, and then George broke the kiss to continue his search for split ends in my hair. “Your turn, Marj.” Hilary poked me with the toe of her shoe. “Truth, right?” She knew I never chose Dare. At least with Truth I could lie. “Who do you like best, me, Ceetee, or George?” She put unnecessary emphasis on “George”, and I could tell she wished I would reveal some secret crush. In reality, Hilary was the one with the crush on George. Her face was pink from the cold, and underneath my crown, her long maroon hair was tucked into the collar of her winter jacket. Her eyelashes were the same shade of red as her hair. It always fascinated me that Hilary had red eyelashes. “So?” she insisted eagerly. I tossed pebbles from the gravelly pavement into the water. From my angle, I couldn’t see them hit the river, but the small ‘plunk’s they emitted on impact were satisfying. I stood up, and George released the fistful of my hair he’d been examining. “Marj?” Hilary still expected me to answer her question. Well, I could tell the answer would become clear soon enough. I walked away from the bench, gripping the cold metal railing with one hand. I turned around. Ceetee was struggling to her feet. She kicked of her cumbersome shoes and dove back into the depths of the basketball court; her hat winking after her body was no longer visible. “Ow!” Hilary yelled, as George arose, and she hit the ground. My crown toppled off her head and into the river. “God damn it!” She pulled herself up, using the railing, and watched the cardboard crown sink as it drifted. George took my hand and we walked. “Happy New Year” he whispered. I smiled. Tweet
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