Chapter Five

After breakfast, we spent the morning cleaning up the mess both inside the house and outside. With each red plastic cup that floated in the pool, or crushed on the ground, and with each bottle that clinked noisily together after being pushed down by the window, more and more memories resurfaced.

Was there any regret? Not really. It'd been fun in its own way, minus the embarrassment of having Sabrina forced to take care of me.

I joined Anna outside, lounging in the hammock near the fence that separated our properties. We swung idly back and forth under the cool morning breeze, bellies full of bacon and heads full of the aftermath of slurping down alcohol with no care the night before.

My throbbing head didn't seem so bad as we rocked back and forth, hoodies covering the mess of our tangled hair. The headache tablets Sabrina supplied when I woke up helped heaps. Anna tossed me a water bottle and urged me to drink up. Did I refuse to sit up and drink? Yes. Did the water slip down my chin and onto my t-shirt? Yes. Did I care? No.

"I don't think you know how strange it was to wake up in Sabrina's bed this morning," I pointed out to Anna, twisting the cap back onto the water bottle.

She nudged me with her foot. "Yeah . . . But you know her, Sam. Well, at least you used to."

"Hmm?"

"She wouldn't leave you all drunk and vulnerable. Even if she says to your face, she hates you with the reckoning of a thousand suns, she'd be the first to defend your honour. She's weird like that with the people she cares about. Did you know, when I wore dungarees that one time that people made fun of me? Well . . . she put a stop to it with the snap of her fingers. Well. She might've somehow dyed someone's hair purple. Still."

"That's a little drastic," I said. "And purple is cool."

"Maybe. But it worked. I would've gotten you out of the pool . . . "

"But you faceplanted into the plant right inside your front door, I heard."

Anna sat up, red blossoming on her cheeks. "Who told you that?"

"Sabrina."

"I was a little drunk. Maybe."

"I was the complete opposite," I claimed.

"Liar. You know, it's usually me having to deal with a drunk Sabrina. It's strange that she was the one taking care of us."

"What's a drunk Sabrina like?" I asked.

She tapped her chin. "Clingy. Maybe I should get her drunk around you sometime. You'll die."

"She's that bad, huh?"

"Worse," she confided. "But that can wait. Tomorrow, me and you, we're designing the prom. Coming up with a theme. Starting from scratch. I don't care what she says."

I released a long breath. "So, the mission was successful?"

Anna wrinkled her nose. "Erm. No. It was a complete failure. You laid all our cards out on the table. She knows now."

"I offered to set her up with Parker," I said.

"Ugh, Sam. People pick their own dates. There are no arranged courtships. You should have spoken to me about it first."

"Whatever."

I was shoved off the hammock and landed flat on the grass, wheezing while she rocked comfortably in the hammock. Instead of retaliating, I moved a piece of the fence to the side and clambered beneath, heading back inside my own house. She could toss the rubbish bags into the bins herself.

As soon as I stepped inside, I was greeted with the annoying sound of the vacuum. It was in the dining area that was opposite the kitchen. Dad only noticed me when I was chugging down some orange juice. He kept the machine on and studied me. Slowly his lips curled, and his eyes danced in amusement, finding my pain and misery hilarious.

"Good morning to you, Sam," Dad said, finally shutting down the vacuum.

"Is it?"

"How was your night?"

The question was asked calmly. He took up a seat at the table and pressed his hands over the newspaper, flattening it down and using a cup to keep it from curling. Did he care that I was so obviously hungover? Did he care that I'd stayed over next door without mentioning it to him? From the way his feet, feet covered in slippers that was, rocked back and forth under the table, it appeared like it was the perfect morning to him.

When I went to sit next to him, he pointed to the kettle. "Make us a cup, would you?"

"Sure."

"So, did you have a good time?"

I nodded, filling the kettle to the minimum under the sink. "I think so."

"You don't remember much. Do you?" he asked.

"I don't know the right answer to that question."

He laughed. "I want you to enjoy yourself, Sam, but you need to find your limit. Not everyone's the same. What is plenty for you can be a small amount for others. One night, me and you, beers and some crappy TV? It can be a practice run. You can find out what you can handle without looking like this the next morning. Safety before fun."

The kettle screamed. "You'd do that with me? What would Mom think?"

"You're a teenager. It's in your nature to do what you're not supposed to. Honestly, we're lucky you didn't start partying younger. You might as well be safe. Besides, you were next door last night. I wasn't too worried. Did you help the Jenkin's clean up? Did they take care of you?"

I brought over our cups and placed one in front of him. "Yeah. Sabrina took care of us."

He clutched the cup between his hands. "Good. I always thought she was a good one."

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm a good judge of character," he claimed.

"Okay, dad."

"Anyway, next time you stay at someone else's house like that without telling me, you'll be grounded until the day you die."

"Fair enough."

"You're lucky Sabrina let me know where you were."

I did a double-take, but he was too busy reading the paper to notice. "She did?"

"She's a good egg, that one."

"Uh-huh," I said and then muttered to myself, "it's not like she dyed someone's hair purple or anything."

"What was that?"

"She's a sweetheart," I said sarcastically.

"You should invite her over sometime."

"Uh-huh. If it's alright with you, I'm going to sleep the day away."

He raised his cup in the air. "Sleep tight."

The next morning, despite my extensive sixteen-hour sleep, I felt more tired than I'd had ever felt in my entire life. Was it possible to be hungover two days in a row? Daresay so. Maybe my body wasn't used to that sort of thing yet. It was a bad enough feeling to make me never want to do it again.

Spooning the cereal into my mouth proofed to be a hard task, as milk constantly spilt from the spoon and bits of the cereal clunked onto the table. As I was about to have my first successful bite, Sabrina's car beeped outside of the house.

So, I did what any reasonable teenager would've done in my situation. I dumped the contents of my cereal into a thermos flask and carried it and a spoon outside and jumped into the back of Sabrina's waiting car.

"Oooh. Tea? Can I have some?" Anna asked from the passenger seat.

"Nope," I muttered.

"Aw."

"Because it's not tea. It's my breakfast."

"You put your cereal into a flask?" Sabrina deadpanned.

"It's more efficient than you'd think. Super handy. Super slurpy. Super lovely."

"If you say so," she said, pulling out of the driveway.

"You're just jelly of what's going into my belly."

Anna shot me a 'what the fuck' look. "Sam. Are you drunk again?"

I slurped on some milk. "I don't know. Can beer and cereal make you drunk?"

"Sam!" Anna scolded.

"You're a damn fool, Anna," Sabrina said. "She's obviously kidding."

"Am I though?" I said, raising an eyebrow coyly when Anna glanced over her shoulder.

"I can see your milk moustache from here," Sabrina lied, not looking away from the road.

"Oops," I said when Anna confirmed her sister's assumption and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

"Spill any of it in this car, and it'll be the last thing that you do," Sabrina warned.

I guess that was fair. But before I could voice that response, she blasted the radio and rolled down the window so not only could I not hear a word the sisters said, but a harsh wind whipped against my face and forced my hair to collide with the leftover milk on my face.

Typical. Monday mornings sucked. This is what I got for not waking up early enough to eat in the comfort of my own home. But I couldn't exactly complain when out of the three of us, it was only Sabrina that had a car. The fact that Anna convinced her to give me a ride every morning was a miracle in itself.

Ten minutes later she drove into the school's car park and neatly pulled into a spot, reversing into position so we could escape quickly after school.

Buses dropped off hordes of students, bikes skid in-between cars and some people walked from the streets nearby. What did all these people have in common? Their insistence on turning up on school property fifteen minutes before anyone needed to. Yes, it was customary to chill out with friends, catch some breakfast in the canteen or do a rush job on work but for this many people to want to be there any longer than they needed to? A total mind fuck for the likes of me.

Maybe if we hadn't turned up so damn early, what happened next might never have had the opportunity to happen.

With an unbuckle of my seatbelt and a little butt wiggle out of the car, the uncapped flask toppled over, and a bunch of milk rushed its way down my t-shirt and cereal, clung onto the fabric. It ventured into my dangling as I crouched over with a wail of despair.

My breakfast. Gone.

Anna rushed around the car, sliding across the hood like an action hero and stood in front of me, mouth gaped.

"See . . . this wouldn't have happened if you opted to share with me," Anna said.

"Karma? Are you saying this is karma?"

"Well . . . I'm not not saying that."

Sabrina used the palm of her hand against my stomach to force me to move away from the car so she could shut and lock the door. "Have fun smelling like milk all day."

Before she could escape, I clutched her arm. "Can I borrow a top?"

She wiggled out of my grip. "Your best friend is standing right there."

Anna inhaled sharply. "And have my clothes touch milk? Sam knows to never put me through the agonizing position of being forced to say no."

"What if Sabrina refuses?" I asked Anna. "What then?"

"Sam, Sam, Sam." Anna backed away. "Maybe if you spilt water. Maybe I would've helped but . . ."

"Wow," I said.

"I'm leaving to avoid you asking me directly," she said and swirled around and fast-walked away.

I turned hopefully to Sabrina. "Help a girl out?"

Sabrina leaned against the car, crossing her arms. "Don't you have other friends?"

"People I can ask to borrow a pencil from? Yes. People that I can ask to borrow an article of clothing from? Er—no."

"Dude check it out," a guy said followed by a camera shutter noise. The guy was Gerald who pointed a phone in my direction and was beside Jack stared intently at me. This didn't feel good. "Wow. Check it out."

Sabrina suddenly trapped me between the car and her body and was hastily taking off her coat and shoving it onto my body. "Come on, Sam, cover up."

My mouth dropped. "Oh my God is my top see-through?"

"A little," she confirmed.

"A little?! You waited until someone took a picture of me to help me out? Sabrina! What the fuck?"

"I didn't notice it! I don't spend my time looking at your . . . "

"Whatever. They are dope. You'd be lucky to spend time looking."

"Sam," she said, roughly doing up the buttons because that's right, she had to be all fancy and not have any damn zips on the coat. "Wait here."

Sabrina patted my shoulders and stormed off in the direction of Jack and Gerald.

I was too flabbergasted by the fury on her face that it took me a couple of seconds to chase after her.

"Oooh, send it to me," Jack said, nodding at me as I came up. "Hi, Sam. Nice jacket."

Ew. Crossing my arms, I said, "Don't be a creep, Jack."

"Guys can have fashion senses too, you know," he protested.

"Sent," Gerald said and slung his arm over Jack's shoulder as the bell rang. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

"You distributed child pornography, you do know that, right?" Sabrina said and woah . . . intense much?

"Oh, shut up," Gerald laughed it off. "We're the same age. Doesn't count. Besides. She was a relatable mess."

As he walked off, she snatched the phone from his grip and smashed it to the ground.

"What the fuck?!" he snapped. "She spilt milk on herself. It was funny!"

"Karma is definitely making the rounds today," I muttered.

"What's going on out here?"' Mr. Byers demanded, storming toward us from his car–because you could always count on him being late.

"A very polite conversation that we're exiting from," I told him and maybe a massive miscommunication. "Isn't that right, Sabrina?"

Sabrina nodded. "Sure. I've got one more thing to say," she said, somehow managing to steal Jack's phone and smashed that phone onto the ground too. Amid the outraged cries of the boys and Mr. Byers, she stomped her shoe onto the phone too, twisting her foot back and forth. "Now, I've said my piece now. Let's go, Sam."

"Hold it right there, young lady," Mr. Byers said. "All of you. To the principal's office, right now."

I swallowed as we walked after him inside to the school and whispered, "Well shit."

"You're welcome," Sabrina said sarcastically.

"Thank you," I replied quickly. "But there's such thing as the cloud."

"Evidence," she said.

"Evidence of them just taking pics of an epic fail moment!"

"You know they could see more than that!"

"Hurry up, ladies!" Mr. Byers said, holding the door to the school for us.

I should've just skipped breakfast.