New Year's Eve

New Year’s Eve 2009 Age: 13 I trudged into the function room with my arms folded over my chest and a deep scowl on my face. So deep that my mother told me my face would stay that way if the wind suddenly changed. It was something my mum always told me, if only to get a laugh out of me. But tonight, I didn't feel like smiling, let alone laughing. Both of my parents walked briskly ahead of me. With huge grins on their faces, excited chatter came out of their mouths; they didn't bother to look back to see if I begrudgingly followed them. If you hadn't already guessed, I did not want to be there. In fact, I would rather be anywhere else but there. The bright lights of the disco flashed all around the room, and loud party music assaulted my ears as my father spotted some of his colleagues. He and my mother went off to greet them, without so much as a backward glance towards me. Dad was in his happy place now, and that didn't include me and my sulky expression. I walked behind, with a stupid scowl on my perpetually miserable face. "Brian! Fantastic to see you!" Dad's boss called, holding out his hand for him to shake. One thing about my dad's boss: he knew every single one of his employees by name, and if I were behaving more maturely, I would've admired that. But I was too busy living in a bad mood to acknowledge anything remotely positive. "Likewise, Frank," Dad replied, shaking Frank's hand with so much over-enthusiasm that I assumed Frank's arm would be yanked clean off. "I wouldn't miss this for the world; you know I always come to this!" My parents exchanged pleasantries with Frank and his wife for a little while. I did nothing but hide behind them, with a perpetual frown on my sullen face. Frank suddenly spotted me, and he grinned. He bent towards me and pinched my cheek. I had to resist the urge to recoil and bat his hands away, but I knew my parents would be mortified if I behaved so. But I was thirteen years old! He didn't need to treat me like a toddler. Though, upon reflection, I was definitely acting like one. But I chose to ignore that fact, even though it gnawed at me from the inside. I wanted to continue justifying my behaviour, but a part of me knew I was being unreasonable. I was torn between my desire to act my age and my fear of disappointing my parents. I doubted I would ever lose the latter feeling. "And how is my little Scarlett doing on this fine evening?" Frank asked, patronisingly, and I fought to keep my face straight. "She's sulking because we didn't let her go to a party that her friend was hosting to celebrate the New Year," Dad told his boss. He earned a roll of the eyes from me. Did he really have to disclose my misfortune to his boss? No doubt putting his own spin on it, so I looked like the rebellious one, while they came out of it smelling of roses. How embarrassing. "But I told her we were all coming to this party. We have been here every year as a family. I'm not about to spoil the tradition now." Well, that was one of the reasons I was sulking, but not all of them. I was sulking because my parents dragged me there against my will. I knew the only reason Dad had come to his work's New Year's Eve party was so that he could suck up to his boss and ultimately gain the promotion he so desired. But it didn't mean I had to come along for the ride. I didn't want the promotion. The party was just the same thing every year, and it was becoming boring. I enjoyed the parties when I was seven, but now that I was a teenager, dancing and playing silly party games no longer appealed to me. Mainly because I was nowhere near old enough to drink, and too old to enjoy a round of pass the parcel. I was in a strange limbo in my life, not quite fitting in, and I couldn't wait to grow up and start feeling more like I belonged. I felt entirely out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit the picture. Frank nodded in understanding. "My son is the same. As soon as they hit thirteen, they think they're older than they are and become stroppy teenagers. I'm sure Robert's off in the corner somewhere, moaning about getting dragged here." Parents didn't get it; that much was clear. Just because they wanted to schmooze and socialise didn't mean they could subject us to it too. I craved my own space, my own time. I was at an age where I wanted to make my own decisions, even if they were just about how I spent my New Year's Eve. I would rather sit at home and doodle on my sketchpad. I'd even prefer just texting my friends to wish them a happy New Year. Anything would be better than this. Frank then scanned the room. He rolled his eyes when he found what he was looking for. Or who, rather. "Robert, come over here!" Frank called, cupping a hand around his mouth, yet still maintaining an air of class. "Don't be rude! Come and meet our guests!" I followed Frank's gaze and saw a boy around my age, rolling his eyes, his arms flopped to his sides after being folded across his chest. He slid off the chair and out of the velvet booth and walked towards us at an annoying snail's pace, with his head down and his shoulders slumped. If I acted like that, I immediately saw the error of my ways, and I almost felt guilty at my behaviour. I realised I owed my parents an apology. Frank placed his hands on his son's shoulders and stood him in front of us. "This is Brian and his wife, Julie," Frank introduced. Robert gave them a mere nod before looking back down at the floor. His lips attempted to upturn into a smile, but they didn't quite get there. "And this is their daughter, Scarlett. I'm sure you two have met before, but you might not remember. You were both quite young." "Robert, darling." Frank's wife addressed her son in a small and quiet tone. "Why don't you keep Scarlett company? There aren't many people around your age here." "Do I have to?" Robert muttered. "Can't I stay on my phone or something?" "Yes, you have to. Now go on." Robert's mum ordered. Robert rolled his eyes and walked off in the seat's direction where he had sat before. I looked at my mum with an incredulous expression on my face. I didn't want to follow Robert anyway, much less if he didn't want me there. Mum nodded at me, silently telling me I had to go. I mimicked Robert's actions and rolled my eyes before spinning on my heels and joining Robert at his table. This was where we both had our own little pity party, in plain sight of everyone else enjoying the actual party. It was silent at first and more than a little awkward. Neither of us knew what to do. Robert was on his phone, texting away, more than happy to ignore me. Absent-mindedly, I picked at my fingernails. I scraped off the ugly pink nail polish Mum had forced on my nails, so that it would match my childish pink outfit. Which I also despised.