Ibiza Summer (2 page)

I emptied my case out on the floor in frustration and looked at all the clothes I’d spent so much time and effort carefully choosing to bring with me, which now looked really tacky and
crap and inappropriate for a glamorous and cool pool party.

‘So, d’you reckon Drogo will be there tonight?’ Charlotte asked no one in particular as Louisa continued to straighten her hair. ‘I think he’s cute.’

‘Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,’ said Ellie wearily with a warning tone in her voice that I was familiar with. ‘The man’s a player. You saw what he was like last year –
after anything in a skirt . . .’

‘And trousers or shorts . . .’ added Narinda, giggling.

‘Still, Drogo or no Drogo,’ said Louisa, ‘it’s bound to be another night to remember, full of the most gorgeous Ibizan totty all waiting to be knocked sideways by our
scintillating conversation and wowed by our ample charms!’ She grabbed her boobs and squished them together to accentuate her cleavage, and everyone laughed.

‘Yeah, it’s about bloody time we spent an evening talking to some exciting blokes for a change, eh, Ellie?’ said Charlotte, putting her tongue firmly in her cheek and winking
at the others. Ellie was wise to Charlotte’s teasing though.

‘I’m just window-shopping tonight, ladies – looking but not buying.’

I knew that Ellie would never cheat on her boyfriend, Tom. They were far too much in love, although I couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about his beautiful girlfriend being on holiday
with her almost-as-equally beautiful and very single mates. I wanted to say something to Charlotte, like how I knew that Tom and my sister were made for each other because I could see it in their
eyes whenever they were together, but I thought it best to keep schtum as I wasn’t quite sure if I was allowed to join in or not.

From what I could gather from the conversation, Alfredo was somewhat of a face on Ibiza’s infamous party circuit and in the four years that Ellie and her gang had been coming here
they’d never missed one of his show-stopping parties.

Great
, I thought. I was about to go to what was fast sounding like the event of the century and I had
nothing
to wear. I knew that if Willow were here with me she’d have it
sorted in seconds and make me feel better about the whole red dress episode earlier. I sighed. It had only been forty-eight hours and I missed her so much already.

I was last in the bathroom as I figured that was my place, and I would’ve only felt pressurised to get ready really quickly if one of the others had been waiting to go in after me so I
didn’t really mind. I decided to do my make-up first and then tackle the whole hair-straightening business last, even though I knew that however much I attempted to iron out my curls, a few
hours later it would revert back to looking like I’d stuck my finger in a plug socket and flicked the switch. I put on some mascara and applied an extra coat of my new watermelon-flavoured
lip-gloss, my skin tingling from the warm shower and from the day’s sun. I spritzed my hair with serum, although I didn’t know why I was bothering. What I needed was a product specially
made for me – ‘Anti Iz-Frizz’ or something. I sighed again and rubbed a little pink glitter over my eyelids and a sprinkling on my shoulders – not too much because I
didn’t want to resemble ‘a tart lit up like a Christmas tree’, as Greg, Mum’s boyfriend, had so delightfully suggested one night as I was on my way out to meet Willow.

I was annoyed with myself for not feeling more excited about the pool party. Instead of feeling like the luckiest girl on the planet, which according to everyone else I was, I felt nervous and
anxious. Would I stick out like a sore thumb? Who would I talk to and what would I say? Would I look stupid dancing and would everyone be watching me?

I wasn’t sure why I was so worried. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d never been to a party before.

‘Get a grip, Isabelle,’ I said aloud. ‘Isn’t this the kind of thing you’ve been waiting for? Hanging out with a cooler, older crowd?’

My thoughts were broken by a sudden knock at the door.

‘Only me, Iz,’ said Ellie in a sing-song voice. ‘Wow, your make-up looks fab,’ she said, sounding surprised, as I let her in. She was holding what looked like a dress in
one hand and belt in the other.

‘It does?’ I said, trying not to sound too chuffed and failing.

‘Look, I reckon I’ve found you something to wear.’ She placed the dress and belt into my hands. I could tell she felt bad about what had happened earlier and I suddenly
realised how sensitive my sister could be.

‘Oh, you don’t have to . . .’

‘Shut up, Izzy, and try it on,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘OK, but I’d rather do it alone this time, if you don’t mind.’

Ellie turned to walk out of the bathroom.

‘Els . . .’ I suddenly found myself saying.

‘
Yeeeess?
’

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘No, you can’t borrow my new sandals as well.’

‘No, not that,’ I said, lowering my eyes uncomfortably. ‘I was just wondering about tonight . . .’

‘What about it?’

‘Well – will I, you know . . . Do you think I will . . . ?’

I really didn’t want Ellie to know I felt awkward and worried about tonight. I wanted to come across as confident and outgoing, someone she could hang out with and have a laugh with
– a friend – but my nerves really had started to get the better of me.

‘Don’t be daft,’ she said, totally pre-empting what I was going to ask. ‘You’re going to look fab and we’ll all be there to —’

I knew she was about to say ‘look after you’, but she stopped short of actually saying it. ‘Anyway, it’ll be fun and I promise not to cramp your style,’ she mocked.
‘Now hurry up and get dressed,’ she said, her usual bossy tone reinstated. ‘You’re holding us up.’

She closed the door behind her and I began to inspect the little black dress. It had tiny puffed sleeves and a low neckline that I hoped was just low enough for it not to be too embarrassing.
I’d admired it on Ellie on many occasions and would’ve settled for looking just half as fabulous in it as she had. I slipped it on over my head and let it slide down my body. The dress
hugged my waist perfectly and then flared out from the hips a little. It was quite short, shorter than anything I usually wore, but it felt good.
Really
good. I took the belt, which was
leather with a big brass round buckle, and wrapped it round my waist as I stood back from the mirror and examined myself. I looked different, but I wasn’t sure how exactly. Glamorous? Sexy,
even? Looking back at myself in the mirror I felt a sudden burst of confidence. The dress gave me an older, more glamorous vibe, like I might actually belong in Ellie’s effortlessly cool girl
gang. I checked my bra straps weren’t on show and cheekily spritzed myself all over with Louisa’s big bottle of Angel perfume, which she’d left on top of the basin. I took a final
deep breath. Perhaps tonight wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

lfredo’s villa was set back among a sea of lush olive groves, high up on the cliffs, causing the clapped-out
old banger of a taxi we were all squashed in to pop and groan and heave up the steep hill.

‘Are we almost there yet?’ I asked hopefully, my bum all but gone to sleep.

‘Not long now,’ said Charlotte, pointing to the imposing white house in the near distance. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? Just wait until you get inside.’

My heart was beating so fast in my chest I swore if the car hadn’t been making such a racket, Ellie, whose lap I was sitting on, would’ve heard it. It was all beginning to sink in
fast. I was really here, in Ibiza, in the back of a cab with my sister and her cool friends, just about to go to a private pool party. It was all a bit surreal, especially since this time last week
Willow and I had been chilling out at her place watching
From Here to Eternity
, courtesy of her dad’s old black-and-white film collection, and talking about how nothing much exciting
ever happens to us.

How things change in a week
, I thought. But then I knew that already, what with my dad and the whole ‘Toby scenario’. Even though I’d promised myself I wasn’t
going to think about Toby Parker, I found my thoughts sub-consciously, and somewhat annoyingly, drifting in his direction.

Toby and I had got together on the fifteenth of March, the night of Sarah Ferris’s birthday. We’d been together for less than two and a half months which, by my standards, was
nothing short of a marriage, when he unceremoniously and suddenly broke it off. His dumping text message had read:
IZ
.
AM SO SOZ BUT ITS NOT WRKING OUT
BTWEEN US
.
STILL WANT
2
B M
8
S BUT FINK WE SHLD CALL IT A DAY
.

‘What an absolute tosser,’ Willow had said furiously when I had shown her the text and although I tried not to let her see how bothered I was, she knew that secretly I was gutted.
What was even more galling was that Toby had been the one to do all the chasing at first.

Toby played football for a local team and had huge hazelnut eyes and long eyelashes, but when all was said and done I wasn’t
that
bothered about him. It wasn’t until we
started talking properly that he began to grow on me – ‘like fungus’ as Willow had later put it.

Willow, on the other hand, had fancied Toby’s mate, Joe Jenkins, for what seemed like a lifetime. Joe had a bit of a reputation for being a bad boy. He drank too much beer and got into
fights for no reason. Not only that, Willow was different when she was around him, although I couldn’t put my finger on how exactly. Their relationship was more off and on than a light
switch, and I’d never met a couple who checked up on each other as much as they did. At that time, they were indefinitely off, due to the fact that Willow had discovered Joe had been secretly
texting another girl. Wils never knew where she stood with Joe – a situation which would’ve driven me nuts – and as a result she was always stressed out about him. For me,
relationships were all about trust. Going out with someone meant finding a soulmate; having a laugh and chilling out together, being friends and sharing things, not worrying yourself sick that they
might go off with someone else as soon as your back is turned.

I could tell Toby had plucked up a lot of courage to ask me out, because he’d stammered his way through it and looked all hot and uncomfortable, which I thought was sweet and made me feel
a bit sorry for him. It was a standard date; we went to the cinema followed by pizza. We’d talked about football and he told me his dream was to play for Manchester United one day. I knew he
was supposed to be a pretty good footballer by all accounts, so I told him he should follow his heart and not let anything or anyone stand in the way of his dream, and he’d looked at me a bit
strangely after I’d said it. I sensed he was different from any of the other lads I’d been out with before (total: three). He wasn’t a beer monster like a lot of Joe
Jenkins’s posse were, he seemed more mature than that.

That night, after the pizza, he’d kissed me and although fireworks hadn’t exactly gone off, it was still kind of nice. Willow was ecstatic that I’d managed to find a boyfriend
who Joe was mates with as it meant we could do the whole double date thing, and the next few times we went out it was the four of us, which was cool.

So it was just when I’d decided I wanted to really make a go of things with Toby that the text came. Looking back, maybe he’d been a bit quieter than usual on our last date. But he
had asked me about my dad as he knew it was approaching the anniversary of his death all those years ago, and I’d been so touched that he’d remembered that I wanted to hold him and not
let go. So I was doubly shocked and hurt. Not to mention embarrassed. Being dumped by text is just the worst thing ever, as basically it meant he didn’t even like me enough to phone me, let
alone tell me to my face. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. A week or so later, I’d found out that Janie Phillips from Year Ten had gone to watch him play football at some county
championship match and that they were now seeing each other. This wouldn’t have been so bad had she not been stunning and, just sixteen, almost a whole year younger than me.