Fall From Grace Read Online Free Page A

for a chance to meet a girl looking like you two." Dad appears in the archway leading to the kitchen leaning against the door frame with folded arms, very much enjoying our stupidity. "Well, sort of. When did I get so old that the 80's became a genre? I don't think I have to worry about you guys finding boyfriends tonight now do I?" he chuckles.
    "Har Har Dad." But he's right; we look like Easter eggs on crack.
    After a plethora of pictures that I will never post on Facebook, Dad lets us leave with a stern warning not to do anything dumb and adolescent. He expects better of us young ladies, Blah, Blah, Blah as I shove Gabby out the door.

    Once settled into the car I can't help but look at her and smile. She looks like she is drowning in pink meringue, and yet still pulls off sexy. European blood lines suck.
    "Ok so here are the rules for the night," Gabs lurches into reverse, awkwardly straining her neck against the fluff of down in order to back out of the long driveway. "No barfing, so that means NO peach schnapps for you." We both shudder a little and do a few fake gags.
    "Not a problem," I say. "What else?"
    "No leaving me alone with Tonya. I mean she's nice for having this annual party and all, but way too high octane for me and I can't handle her when I'm sober."
    "Check." I can't handle her either, sober or not.  
    "Finally, if you start saying how much you love me, then that means we are going home immediately because you're loaded and about to break rule #1. Plus I can't handle the gushies. They irritate me."  
    "Done and done."
    Gabs tries to be the hard ass, but when she has a few drinks, she is the first to start telling me that she would marry me if she liked chicks.
    As we head north up Mercer St., there is no mistaking a large party in progress. The sea of cars snaking up the road begins four blocks before the party. Oddly the street lamps haven't come on yet, making the glow from the old century homes' windows even more pronounced.  
    "Better park here and walk the rest of the way, in case the cops break it up early," Gabs chimes in and pulls into a free spot. Always have a good exit strategy - House Parties 101.
    Once inside, there is no mistaking the visual impact this decade had. The colours are so loud and vibrant, vivid splashes of bold prints, mesh and faux fur are everywhere. Although if we were staying true to the decade, the furs would probably be real. Did I also mention the hair? Amazing, big, buxom hair. I can smell the hairspray permeating the air; I taste it as I breathe in. Cough. I pity the fool who lights a match.
    The stereo is blaring a funky 80's tune whose name I can't place, but am sure played a big role in a John Hughes movie. OMD maybe? There are people everywhere; I think half our senior class made it out. I can't help but feel a little nostalgic as I know this is the final 'end of winter' party I'll get to attend at Tonya's. Funny how you spend your life wanting to escape the tedious life sentence of high school and when you're nearing the end, sentimentality creeps up on you like a cheap thong.
    "Hey Shhellta, wanna bong a beer?" I turn to see a very drunk Todd Winters swaying on my left. He's jiggling a make shift bong built from various Home Depot items in one hand while still clutching his ratty ski poles in the other. You can tell he did an impressive Flock of Seagulls hair sweep before the party, but right now he looks pretty Shit-canned with a bad cowlick.
    "Ah, you know me, I prefer to keep my bonging to a minimum. Killer 'do though. Well done," I say. Looking shot down, I give him a smile and a weak shoulder punch, steering him over towards a group of lacrosse guys dressed in matching silver ski jackets and neon blue headbands; I think they would be more suited to drinking buddies then a lightweight like me. We make our way past the dance floor/coffee table, to the back kitchen. I need to garner a beverage. Grabbing a cooler for me and soda for Gabs, we situate ourselves