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The picture crackles into life, sprinkling a darkened array of blacks and blues over the gritty projector screen. The camera swings up suddenly, and a soft moonlight spills into the image. There’s a shadow sliding over your vision as you hear a knock at the door.
You can see blurry figures moving to a dragging beat in the hallway, and for a moment the door seems to have opened itself. Then the camera jolts down, and a young girl looks past the lens with a smirking stare.
“Are you Peter?”
A deep, warped voice speaks from nowhere.
“Maybe. Who are you?”
“My sister said you’d film the party. She said you take a camera everywhere.”
The cameraman pushes past too quickly to capture the girl’s reaction, and you spot the back of her head as she runs off ahead into the living room. The camera follows her path, bumping into apologetic dancers and drinkers, before settling on the beaming face of a teenage boy, shining in the heat of his own house.
“Going well so far?”
“Yeah, of course. Are you filming already?”
The cameraman must have nodded, because the boy continues to grin self-consciously, teenage vanity seeping through his child-like skin.
And now the view shifts slightly, panning out to the rest of the crowd as the party’s host steps away to mingle elsewhere. Now your heart stops pounding – it feels a little like relief – as your eyes squint at two figures on the corner of the screen. You’re filled with a strange sense that you don’t know much at all, as your memory begins to correct the details of this scene you thought you knew inside out.
There’s a droning commentary from behind the lens, but your focus is on the young girl from earlier and her older sister. You try to make out the wording of the argument they’re having, but they’re too distant for lip reading. All you remember is that she was much too young to be there, and you were only too happy to let her know that. You didn’t want the argument with your parents when she would inevitably get home drunk. Not to mention she was embarrassing you.
“… So is Lawrie still in the dog house then?”
“I’m not sure. Probably. That Fenshaw girl keeps him on a leash.”
A different boy smirks towards the camera this time, and the screen moves closer to that Fenshaw girl.
“Sibling rivalry, is it?”
“Get lost with that stupid camera, Peter!”
You’re cringing at the sound of your own recorded voice, laughing a little as your younger self glares at Melissa, who stomps off out of shot. The camera hasn’t moved, so your glare moves to the boy behind it.
“Okay… I’ll come back later then, shall I?”
The view spins away without waiting for a response, and for a while the film focuses on one boy’s robotic dancing, before moving on to interview some other girls. You relax at first, but gradually the sense of anticipation builds. You bite your lip as someone out of shot switches the record and the crowd moans.
The camera swings around instantly, and a boy that hasn’t been seen yet is kneeling in the middle of the room. He’s facing that bossy Fenshaw girl in the corner, whose frowning can’t hide her curiousity.
“And now Lawrie appears to have gone completely mad…”
The unfunny remark goes unheard to your adult self, as you grin stupidly at the girl on the screen. She continues to frown, but breaks into laughter when the boy begins to sing.
“Oh Mandy… You came, and you… La da da da da… But I sent you away! Oh, Maaandy!”
The boy himself begins to laugh now, as the crowd shouts to have the record he interrupted back on. Your eyes are focused on the blushing girl with her hand in Lawrie’s, and you mumble the words that the video recorder doesn’t capture.
“Forgive me?”
A pause, and Rachel and Amanda smile in unison.
“Go on then.”
You turn away from the screen as the video continues, thinking of bossing other children about and playing the teacher’s pet. As you walk off into your present day life, you consider the small miracle that you were invited to the party at all.