LAINE

KELLY ANNE POURSses a sneaky vodka from her dad’s bottle and tops it up with cheap cola. She clinks her glass against mine as she plays some drum and bass compilation I don’t like, as though simply having a bit of alcohol is cause for celebration. It doesn’t feel like it. Not so much.

I’ve learned since her last birthday that some celebrations mean something, but it seems Kelly Anne didn’t get tagged in that particular life post.

“Gonna get so fucking trashed tonight!” she tells me, and my stomach rolls before I’ve even taken a sip. I have no doubt she’s gonna get so fucking trashed tonight, only...