It's My Party

It's My Party

Old Fiat

Hooray! Our first dab into the Hairspray section! We've been meaning to write this story for a while, so… yeah. :D

Just so you know, here is the way the writing is split between the two of us:

Old Fiat n. France: Edits and helps plot out the story

Old Fiat s. Italy: Writes and helps plot out the story.

Enjoy!

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It's my party and I'll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to, cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you…

--"It's My Party" by Lesley Gore

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Part One: The Party

Amber placed one of the pale, shell pink envelopes on Corny's dresser and looked around the dressing room for a moment. She gazed at the coat rack and decided that, if Corny came to her party, he should wear his black cotton-wool blend suit coat. Nothing else would go with the decorations.

Taking her small stack of pink envelopes with her, she left the dressing room and went over to where the rest of the council kids were milling around, waiting for Corny, Maybelle or Velma to come over and tell them what to do.

"Hi Brad!" she said with a large, white smile. "You look great today!"

In truth, he looked absolutely foul. Fortunately when they were on air they wore clothes picked by the studio, but it wasn't the same with practices. Why did he think that a red and white checked shirt would look good tucked into nasty, pulled-up-to-your-armpits khakis? Was he blind or stupid? But she continued to smile at him so he wouldn't be able to tell what she was thinking.

Brad seemed shocked by the compliment, but attempted to take it in her stride.

"Thanks Amber!" he said, smiling back at her, a little weary. What did she want that would make her compliment him?

"Anyway," she went on. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to my party this Saturday. It'll be really fun!" She held out another pale pink envelope and he took it, albeit reluctantly.

"Thanks," he said, turning the stiff card over in his hand. "I'll see you then."

She flashed him a dazzling grin and walked over to Link and Tracy.

"Howdy Link," she said, smoothly cutting off Tracy halfway through her sentence about the Stricken Chicken. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to my party this Saturday!"

"You mean tomorrow?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at her. Honestly, Link could be such a bonehead.

"Yes—tomorrow," she said, not showing an ounce of emotion. She handed him an envelope and then turned towards Tracy. Since she was inviting everyone else, she supposed that she should invite Tracy as well. "Would you like to come too, Tracy?"

Tracy felt a little put off by Amber's large, white grin, but politely took one of the envelopes.

"Thanks Amber," she said, smiling back at her. Tracy and Link watched as Amber went through the same routine with all the other council kids.

"I'm betting she'll only invite the white kids," Link whispered in her ear and she giggled. But they were soon shocked to see her march up to Seaweed.

"Hiya Seaweed," she said, her smile still fixed in place even after having to deal with Noreen and Doreen. "Would you like to come to my party?"

He seemed even more surprised than Brad.

"You want me to come?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah," she said, holding out a card. "Would you like to go?"

"Uh… sure…" He took the offered envelope and watched her suspiciously as she walked over towards Inez.

He was soon joined by Tracy and Link and the three of them looked at each other.

"Do you think she really wanted us the come?" Tracy asked, looking down at the envelope in her hand. Neither of the boys answered.

"Nah," said Seaweed, shaking his head. "She probably wouldn't even care if we didn't turn up."

Amber smiled happily at Duane as she handed him a little pink envelope. This was going to be one of the best parties ever.

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"Are all your refreshments set out?" asked Velma, rushing about the living room to make sure everything was in place.

"Mom, everything's ready," said Amber, putting her hand on her mother's arm. "It'll be great. Have fun with Uncle Robert."

"I'm sorry I won't be here for your Sweet Sixteen party. I don't want to go to this opening, but Robert was so damn adamant…" she sighed.

"Relax, mom." Amber smiled at her. Despite how finicky her mother could be about her appearance and relationships, she truly did care for her daughter. "I'll be fine. I do wish you could be here, but you'll have fun with Uncle Robert."

Velma glanced up at the clock on the mantel.

"I've got to go now. Have fun with the council kids. Make sure there's no 'funny business', alright?"

"Of course, mom," Amber walked with her mother to the front door. "I'll see you tonight."

"Have fun, socialize," Velma gave her a brief kiss on the cheek before pulling open the door and stepping outside.

"Bye," Amber waved after her for a few moments and then closed the door.

She looked around the empty house. It would be another fifteen minutes before anyone started coming. Sighing, she flopped down on the red sofa in the living room and picked up an old Vogue magazine that was sitting beneath the coffee table.

Silence hung heavily in the building, making it difficult to concentrate on the articles of clothing. She ended up just flipping through the pages, occasionally glancing over one of the advertisements and wondering how the outfits would look on her body, before placing it beneath the coffee table one more.

She looked up at the clock above the mantel and frowned. The other council kids should've started arriving ten minutes ago. Maybe they just weren't very punctual people. Their parents probably hadn't raised them to be on time or early for all events.

This could explain the absence of most of the kids, but it didn't make sense for Corny. He was usually early for everything, unless it was taking place before noon. She wondered about this for a few seconds until she decided he must've just gotten tangled up in some conversation with Maybelle about choreography or something.

Taking a few deep breaths, she ran her perfectly manicured hands over the puffy, red satin skirt of her dress. She'd look horribly stupid if she came to the door to greet her guest with a wrinkled skirt.

With that thought in her head, she stood up from the couch and began to pace the living room, humming under her breath. Seconds passed like hours, minutes passed like days. Pacing wasn't going to make the time pass any quicker.

She bent down in front of the television and turned it on. It was the WYZT evening news report. Smiling at her from the screen was Charles Kent, the newscaster, along with his pretty blonde co-host, Gloria McKenzie. He was glancing over his notes, searching for the next story he was supposed to report, as Gloria made a few dull comments about the last one.

Amber stared blankly at the screen, hoping they would talk about something interesting, but the next story was about some robbery at some store she'd never gone to in her entire life. Who cared about some robbery? But she continued to watch it, glancing up at the mantel clock every few moments. After about thirty minutes, Kent turned it over to the weather man, James Jacobs.

Who would be forty minutes late for a party? Amber certainly never would be. Five minutes, maybe, on the outside—but she was a very punctual person for things she wanted to attend and who wouldn't want to attend her party?

Biting her lip, she continued to watch television.

Six o' clock came and went.

Seven passed without complaint.

Eight seemed to crawl by as Kent and Gloria began chatting about crab fishing.

Suddenly, it was nine o' clock and nobody was there but Amber. Four hours. Four hours late. She switched off the television and got up. She swore, kicking the coffee table. Nobody was fours hours late.

Why was nobody there?

She stormed into the kitchen. There sat her cake on a expensive china platter—covered in white and pink icing and neatly decorated with sixteen candles and piped letters saying Happy 16th Birthday. Tears welled in her eyes. It was so clean, so untouched.

Giving a shout she grabbed the platter and threw it down the tile floor. The china shattered and the cake flew everywhere, splattering all the cupboards and a lot of Amber's dress.

She stood there for several minutes, breathing hard, before she burst into tears. They slid down her cheeks and dotted the floor and her dress. She flung her hands up to her head and dug her fingers through her beehive, destroying its rock hard shape.

How could they do this?

Why did she ask herself that? She knew the answer. They didn't care for her anymore. She was being thrown away like old rubbish now that she was no longer the most popular councilette. Tracy and Inez had both stolen that title from her after the Miss Teenage Hairspray competition.

Her heart pounded as she tugged on her stiff locks of blonde hair. She seemed to be convulsing. No one had come. No one. Her whole body shook. They'd all abandoned her for a human whale and some Negro girl.

What had she done to make them suddenly prefer them to her? She'd never been blatantly cruel to anyone. She'd always shown at least a touch of politeness with every person—even Tracy, on occasion.

What had she done?

Finally, the clouds of anger, hurt and frustration left her mind. Looking down, she realized that the cake wasn't going to lift itself off the tile and put itself in the trash so she began to clean it up off the floor. When it had been scrubbed off all the surfaces and the shards of china had been picked up and thrown away, she left the kitchen to change and wash all the hairspray out of her hair.

Velma came back home at around eleven—tired and a bit tipsy, but eager to hear about Amber's party. She walked into her daughter's bedroom, still in her fancy, black cocktail dress.

"So…" she said, sitting at the foot of the bed. Amber didn't move but continued to face the opposite wall. "How did the party go?"

"It went really well," said Amber in her usual chipper voice, but still didn't face her. "We put on all these great records and everyone was dancing and it was really fun."

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time. You socialized with everyone, right? Mix and mingle?"

"Yup," Amber nodded.

"You can give me all the great details tomorrow morning. See you then."

And Velma left, closing the door softly behind her.

Amber looked out the window at the flickering, yellow streetlamps as a single tear slid down her cheek.

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-Old Fiat s. Italy and n. France