“Our dads are friends,” Wade answers quickly. He catches my eye and smiles, but underneath I can see a warning: Don’t go there.
“Oh, right,” Brittney says, tossing her satiny dark hair off her shoulder, hitting me in the face with it in the process.
Wade and Colin sit in front of Brittney and me. Nate, a little too broody for my taste, is sitting four rows down and to the side, by himself.
Colin turns to look at me and smiles. Muscular, blond, and blue-eyed, he’s nice-looking, but nothing close to Matt. Colin’s the guy next door you can’t believe lives in your town; Matt’s the one so striking you can’t believe he lives on your planet.
The obvious way that Colin flirts with me grosses me out a little.
“I almost didn’t come out tonight,” he says in a low voice that tries too hard. I look over and realize that Brittney and Wade are actually making out. Right next to us. I turn away quickly. “But I’m glad I did,” Colin continues, looking me up and down. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Thanks,” I say as I inch away from him. I try to look at anything other than the PDA to my right, so I watch Colin take a swig from his cup. I don’t even like the way he drinks.
Finally, Brittney and Wade come up for air, and though I’m happy that I don’t have to listen to any more smacking, sloppy kisses, the silence is uncomfortable. And frankly, the night is boring so far.
I consider the blood-red contents of my cup. Mason would call it a cup full of brain damage, but being with Wade and his friends might be doing me more harm than the booze. And Mason’s the one who forced me to come anyway. Shrugging, I down it all in one drink.
“More?” Brittney asks, seeming to like me a little better now. She holds up a thermos and shakes it a little.
“Sure,” I say. “Hit me.”
Who knows how long later, I wake up on foul-smelling carpet in a dark, red-lit room with walls that are oozing bass. I have no idea where I am, and for the first few minutes, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything other than how I feel right now. And how I feel is bad.
Gutter bad.
I’m freezing and sweating at the same time. If I could move my limbs, I would cover myself with a blanket. I would cut off my head, it hurts so badly. I would curl up into a ball and die, assuming I haven’t already. I pinch the skin on my bare arm to make sure that I’m alive.
Then, in flashes, it all starts coming back.
Running around the soccer field with Brittney.
Doing a keg stand on a dare from Nate.
Singing Karaoke—“No Air,” no less—with Colin.
Cornering Wade on the dance floor to confront him about the program.
“Why won’t you talk about it?” I slurred. He wiped his face before walking away, and I’m mortified to realize now that I must have spit on him.
I groan from my place on someone else’s floor. I lick my teeth and they feel furry, coated in sugar and alcohol and something else—maybe hot dogs. I smell puke nearby but don’t want to move to see where it is. Just then, the bass gets really loud, like someone opened the door.
“I think it’s in here,” a guy’s voice says. “Hang on.”
Footsteps crunch on the carpet as the guy navigates the tiny room. I hold my breath because I don’t know if I’m supposed to be in here. The boy steps so close to my right hand that my fingers touch his treads. He gasps when he sees me.
“Holy shit! You scared me!” he says.
“Sorry,” I mutter. My mouth is dry as dust.
“What are you doing down there?”
“Resting,” I say.
“How long have you been in here?”
I shrug.
“Uh… okay. Well, stay as long as you like,” the guy says, inching his way back toward the door. “Or do you want me to call someone?”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I already called my friend Audrey.”
I did? I don’t remember talking to her.
“Oh, good,” the guy says, backing away carefully so as not to step on my listless body. “I’ll have the doorman watch out for your friend. I’ll tell him to tell her where you are.”
I don’t answer because my eyes are closed.
Three minutes or three hours later, someone jostles me. I want to protest and roll into a ball and kick them away for disturbing my coma, but my mouth doesn’t work. My body doesn’t work. So, without any say in the matter, I’m carried into the night, tucked into a car, and driven far, far away.
twelve
“Daisy? Are you awake?” Mason calls from across the food court at the mall. He’s sitting at a table with Cassie and Nora Fitzgerald, and they’re all staring at me. He knocks twice on the table, like he’s rapping out some kind of code. He knocks a third time, then looks at me expectantly like I’m supposed to know what he’s saying.
“Daisy?” he calls again.
Confused, I look across the table. Matt is there.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Answer him.”
And then a firm hand on my shoulder pulls me from the dream.
I open my eyes to a startling but welcome sight: Matt is lying on his side, facing me, in real life. I suck in my breath at the sight of him.
“Answer your dad,” he whispers calmly. I furrow my eyebrows.
“Answer him or he’ll want to come in,” Matt explains.
Getting it, I try to call back, but nothing comes out. I clear my throat, which reminds me of Mr. Jefferson. I wonder if his issue is that he drinks. Finally, I manage to find my voice.
“I’m awake,” I say loudly, cringing.
I stare into Matt’s dark eyes; he stares into mine. I’d ask what he’s doing here if words didn’t hurt.
“Good,” Mason calls back through the wall. “Cassie and I are going to get some eggs at the hotel restaurant before heading to the Zimmermans’. We need to be there at eight. Are you coming?”
I wonder for a moment if Matt thinks it’s weird that my dad would call my mom “Cassie” instead of “your mother,” but he doesn’t seem to notice. Then my stomach sloshes in a very bad way and I quit wondering.
“Ask if you can stay here today,” Matt whispers. I nod.
Concerned about dragon breath, I turn my head away from Matt when I speak.
“Would it be okay if I hung around here today?” I ask the wall. There’s silence on the other side of the door. “I want to catch up on some reading,” I add, trying to sound normal but feeling anything but. Mason doesn’t answer for a bit, as if he’s considering what I’ve asked. Finally, he says:
“Stay inside the hotel.”
“Okay,” I call out. “Thanks.”
My stomach lurches again and I curl into the fetal position.
“Are you going to be sick again?” Matt whispers.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back.
“We’ll be back at seven,” Mason says through the wall. “We’ll eat together.”
Wishing Mason would stop talking about food, I gather all my strength to answer, “Okay, sounds good.” My stomach lurches again.
“Want to go to the bathroom?” Matt says quietly.
“I don’t want to move,” I whisper. Matt smiles weakly and brushes a piece of hair off my forehead.
“Then don’t.”
I gasp awake, heart pounding, eyes wide. Matt’s still here, next to me on the bed. He’s on his back now, staring up at the ceiling. I watch as he turns toward me, concerned.
“Bad dream?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, because whatever ripped me from slumber is already out of reach. Without moving to know for sure, I can tell that my body is on the mend. I smack my lips and deeply inhale and exhale.
“So… I called you last night?” I say.
Matt rolls to his side again, facing me, smirking. “You drunk texted me.”