Page 9 of Unnecessary Drama

Jesse’s friends are a mix of shy and sweet engineering students and old schoolfriends who are living in a share house in Geelong in what appears to be a mostly nocturnal life, where they play video games all night, eat BBQ meatlovers pizza six times a week for dinner, shower on average once every four days, and they recently started a small fire by putting a pizza, cardboard box and all, in the oven to reheat it.

I fuss around, putting food out, tidying the kitchen, refilling drinks, trying to look busy while I anxiously wait for Ruby, Sophie and Justin to arrive. I’m sweaty and flustered. I stand in front of the open fridge for a second trying to cool down.

In the lounge room, Jesse is sitting on the couch next to one of Harper’s friends, a pretty girl with waist-length caramelcoloured hair and a nose ring. They’re deep in conversation, leaning towards each other, knees almost touching. It makes me feel a little bit sick. And betrayed. Here I was thinking we were both nervous and tentative in this new life, that we were equals, both in between, but he has so many friends here, old and new, and now he’s casually flirting, and he’s never looked more relaxed in his life. He cannot integrate into Harper and Penny’s friendship group before me.

I approach them with a tray of food.

‘Hi, I’m Brooke,’ I say to the girl.

‘Amber,’ she says in return. She looks at the platter of food I’m offering and exclaims with delight. ‘Oh my god, the detail! This looks like the kind of thing my mother spends all day making for her book club.’

‘Oh, um, thanks?’ I say. I don’t really know how to respond to that.

Amber smiles at me cheerfully as she piles food onto a napkin. ‘You know what? I think my mum actually owns that dress too!’ she says, gesturing to my clothes.

I am really hoping her mother is very young and very fashionable.

Jesse has just put a chip in his mouth while listening to our interaction, and he wrinkles his nose.

‘What am I eating?’ he asks.

‘A turmeric-flavoured lentil crisp,’ I tell him.

‘Ugh,’ he says. ‘It is not good.’

‘It’s an acquired taste. For a sophisticated palate,’ I say, trying to sound worldly and disdainful. In truth, I bought them because they were on special at the supermarket.

‘How long does it take to acquire a taste for it?’ he says.

‘For you? It’ll take a while,’ I say.

‘Brooke!’ a voice calls.

I turn, and squint. I don’t immediately recognise the girl walking towards me. But I can’t really concentrate on her face because she’s wearing an animal onesie. One of those all-in-one animal-patterned onesies that have hoods and are sometimes sold as costumes and sometimes as novelty pyjamas. I think this one is a cow because it’s white with big black patches and, I think, yes, definitely, there are pink udders hanging off her stomach, and a little cow face on the hood, and a tail trailing at the back. Is that Ruby? Why is she wearing that? Oh god.

‘Hey, Brooke,’ Ruby says, walking over to me.

Her voice is slightly slurry. I am an expert in knowing when and how drunk someone is, and I would say Ruby is currently happily buzzed but heading towards the unsteady and messy phase.

‘Hey!’ I say. I give her a quick hug, even though we’ve never hugged before, but the cow onesie has thrown me. Her soft udders squish against me in a disconcerting way.

‘I like your place.’ She waves a hand around vaguely.

‘Thanks. Thanks for coming,’ I say. I pause and wait for her to explain the onesie, but she’s been distracted by the food and is busy picking at the grapes.

I can see Amber and Jesse taking in the costume, Amber with raised eyebrows and wide eyes, and Jesse looking like he wants to laugh.

I frown at him. Grow up.

If my friend wants to dress like a cow at my party, well she can. I’m interested to know why, of course, but really, it might be none of our business. It might be a very personal emotional situation.

‘Hey guys, over here!’ Ruby yells, as Sophie and Justin walk in. They are also wearing animal onesies. Did I tell them it was a costume party? No, I didn’t. Did I? No. Definitely not. Of course not. Is this a…sexual kinky thing, maybe? Or a Melbourne thing? A creative thing? Or is it a joke? An ironic joke or a prop comedy joke? Am I the butt of the joke or am I in on it? My hands are clammy. I’m definitely not in on it.

Sophie is in an orange kangaroo onesie, and it has a little pouch with a joey poking out. Justin is in a lime-green dinosaur onesie, with felt spikes all down his back and a long tail. He is pink-cheeked and sweaty and looks like he might be overheating. His suit zipper is pulled down a little and I can see a patch of bare chest. He’s wearing underwear though, surely. I don’t dare look down at his dinosaur crotch.

‘Hey, hey, hey, girl,’ Sophie says, shimmying up to me.

‘Hi! I’m so glad you came. You all look so fun!’ I say, my hands clasped tightly together. I sound like an uptight fiftysomething-year-old interacting with the local neighbourhood teenagers for the first time. Or Amber’s book-club-hosting mother.