Young Writers Society

Yanton, like most suburbs, had two kinds of nightlife, and therefore, two kinds of people.

The first were the type who went to Silver, the skeevy little club off Harnby Street. Silver was cramped, sweaty and chaotic, with an ever present reek of cigarette smoke. It attracted the losers who’d never made it out of Yanton, the underage kids who took advantage of the lax ID checking and those for whom the desire to pick a fight only grew with every drink they had.

Silver was a grotty place with a reputation for violence, but it was the only club in Yanton, so people continued to go there.

Tess Jenkins had been to Silver once, when she was fifteen. She and her friends had gotten fake IDs - not that anyone had checked - and snuck in one Saturday night. Back then, Silver had been a place of legend, with so many stories that Tess had never been entirely sure what to believe. She’d been told that people had died there, that there was an in-house drug dealer, that you met the wildest people, that a night there would be the best night of her life.

No one had died at Silver the night Tess went there, and it had been far from the best night of her life. It had actually been pretty mediocre. Tess, at fifteen and only recently graduated from childhood birthday parties, had felt wilder than most of the people there.

She'd never found out for certain about the drug dealer.

From that night on, Tess found herself firmly cemented in Yanton’s other form of nightlife: that of the raging house parties, the hedonistic gatherings out at Tallan Gorge and the illegal raves held in disused warehouses out in Yanton’s industrial area.

Those were the nights that Tess lived for.

“Nice dress, where’d you get it?” Briony called from the passenger seat of Mia’s car, as they pulled up in front of Tess’ house. “Cause it’s funny, y’know, it kinda reminds me of one that recently vanished from my wardrobe.”

Tess smiled as she opened the door and threw herself into the back seat. Briony had leant her the dress nearly six months ago, but Tess had been sure that she would have forgotten by now. “That is funny.”

It was a Saturday night in the middle of those long four months between the girls’ year twelve exams and first semester of university. Unlike in high school, where the parties held during the holidays had an urgent, make the most of this feeling to them, the complacency of the days without school or commitments had seeped into the nights.

In November, the parties had been celebratory, now they just happened, because how else was anyone going to spend their weekend?

As soon as Tess had closed the door, Mia slammed her foot on the accelerator.

“Dude,” Tess muttered, as she leant forward to check her hair in the rearview mirror. “Just about went through the windshield.”

“Ignore her, she’s just pissy cause Amala bailed on being designated driver,” Briony trilled. “Poor Mia.”

Mia glowered, whilst still keeping her eyes on the road. Resentment seemed to radiate off her. “It was my turn last week. You think I like watching you two get shitfaced? That I want to spend every week babysitting both of you?”

“But you’re so responsible,” Briony wheedled, with an exaggerated pout. “And it’s not every week.”

Tess leaned back and stared out the window, letting Mia and Briony argue. She didn’t really see the point of having a designated driver for most of these parties, not when they were pretty much in walking distance away. A long walk, but still. Easily achievable.

And Mia was always such a killjoy when it was her turn not to drink. She always seemed convinced that the other girls would do something completely stupid, like they’d never been to a party before. As though a little bit of alcohol would make them forget the rules.

Have each other's backs. Exes and crushes are totally off limits. Keep it classy (only losers get totally wasted). Everyone leaves together. No drugs, or other people’s alcohol. Everyone has to check on at a chosen spot every two hours. Listen to the designated driver, or else. If anyone is caught breaking a rule, the night is over.

All for one and one for all.

There were probably other rules that Tess had forgotten. Originally, the only rule was to look out for each other, which had gone without saying, Tess thought. But over the last couple of years, the list of what was forbidden had grown, and Saturday nights had become these tightly regulated outings that no one dared stuff up.

When Tess, Mia, Briony and Amala had first started going out to parties they only had a tenuous connection to, it had been about rebellion. They’d been breaking free of the constraints of childhood and launching themselves head first into this new, chaotic, dangerous world.

Going out now didn’t feel as chaotic and dangerous as it had when Tess was fifteen. She’d only just be getting into the magic of the night when someone would pull her away.

Briony had recently told Tess eighteen was too young to be that jaded.

“Well- how come Tess never has to do this?” Mia said to Briony. “Me, you and Amala all take turns, Tess should have to do it for once.

“You can’t be designated driver if you can’t drive, Mia,” Tess retorted, poking her head through the gap between the driver's and passenger seats.

“Well maybe you should work on that,” Mia snapped.

Tess rolled her eyes. Before she could respond, Briony cut in.

“Tess, are we predrinking at Christina’s or Rhys’?” she asked. “Because I said yes to Christina and Mia said yes to Rhys, so now you have to choose.”

“I think Rhys is still mad at me for that thing after Schoolies, so Christina’s,” Tess said.

“He’s not the only one,” Mia said under her breath.

“Jesus, Mia! You’re a joy tonight, aren’t you?”

With that outburst, everyone went silent. Tess watched Briony place a warning hand on Mia’s shoulder. A don’t, you’ll only make it worse gesture.

Things didn't usually turn sour this early. The sun hadn’t even set completely, and the air still held a lingering memory of the day’s January heat. Perhaps it was Amala’s absence, which had reduced their undefeatable foursome down to a much weaker trio. It had been so long since one of them had missed a Saturday night. Tess didn’t want to consider that, with their first semester of university starting in a month, it was seeming all too unlikely that the four of them would keep this up each weekend.

Mia sighed. “Christina’s it is.”

Those three words were a peace offering, a call for a ceasefire that Tess was obligated to accept.

This was not what weekends were meant to be like.

Tess was not usually one to let an argument drop, but she accepted Mia’s begrudgingly-offered olive branch.

She nodded, and asked, as chirpily as she could manage, “So what’s the plan after that?”