With a gentled tone, she asked, “Have you heard from your parents lately?”

“No.” I stood up and shook my head. I moved to the door.

“Wait. Please, Sheldon?”

“I’m not some wasted space due to negligent parents. That’s not me, not who I am. I’m not going to talk to you about my hurt feelings because the last time I heard from my parents was three months ago.” I left the room and walked down the hallway. Just before I opened the counselor’s door that connected to the senior hallway, I stopped and heard a resigned sigh from her office.

My hand paused for a moment, but I hardened inside and left.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I drove past the Café Diner and saw Bryce’s car in the parking lot. Corrigan’s was somewhere else. As I continued home, I sent a text to Bryce and Corrigan telling them that I had beer waiting at home.

When I got home, I removed one of the cases that was still in my car from our previous trip to the diner. I stuffed it underneath the steps leading to the connecting door.

As I moved down the hallway to unlock the front door, I found a note that had been stuffed underneath the door. I opened it and read:

Whores get stoned to death. Are you the stone or whore? Or maybe you’re death.

I laughed and crumpled it up. After a quick toss to the garbage, I pulled out a frozen pizza and warmed the oven. It took two minutes for the oven’s pre-warm up bell to ring and as I slid the pizza in, my front door opened. Bryce and Corrigan were both laughing as they made their way inside.

“Grab the beer from my trunk,” I shouted over their laughing.

Corrigan hollered, “Will do.”

Logan was the first to appear around the corner. She was hesitant, but seemed to relax when she saw an easy grin on my face. I still hadn’t formally met the girl, but I was determined to be in a gracious mood. There was no bitchery allowed when it was beer and pizza night.

I crossed my feet as I leaned against the corner and stared at her.

She changed her expression back to caution and edged, hesitantly, onto one of the stools.

Neither of us said a thing.

Logan stared at anything except me. Her hands also seemed to fight with each other. She’d hold them still, then they’d start trembling, and she’d jerk only to start it all over again.

When I heard footsteps jog down the stairs, I smiled to myself at her predicament.

She’s with a guy, one of the most popular, and thinking she’s his new girlfriend. She’s in his other best friend’s house, who’s a girl, who’s known to get her jollies by taunting girls just like her. What to do?

Predicament.

A moment later, Bryce and Corrigan both walked in with a case in their arms.

Awkward silence time was done…for now.

I raised an eyebrow and murmured, “You could only handle one case?” I said it in disdain.

Corrigan wasn’t affected and grinned cockily. He jumped onto the counter right in front of Logan and shot back, “I’m just conserving my energy for more pleasurable activities.”

He ran a hand down the side of Logan’s face and lingered at her lips.

Logan flushed, but didn’t move her head back. She even relaxed her lips and Corrigan slipped his finger inside where, after a moment’s hesitation, she sucked it. Her eyes looked somewhere else. Not at Corrigan, Bryce, or myself.

Bryce whistled in appreciation and asked, “Why don’t you do that for me?” He held up his hand.

I punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He cradled his arm, but smiled endearingly at me.

Corrigan sniffed the air and asked, “Please tell me that I’m smelling pizza?”

“You are.” I knew my eyes were frosty as I watched Logan take two of Corrigan’s fingers into her mouth.

“Hey,” Corrigan suddenly said as he noticed something in the front hallway.

“You have a voice message on your machine.” He looked at me, confused, “Since when do you use your machine?”

I’d been distracted with creepy notes. I hadn’t noticed.

“When was the last time someone even called your landline?” Bryce asked.

Corrigan jumped off the counter and hit the play button.

A second later, I stiffened when I heard my mother’s voice echo around the house’s hallway and kitchen.

“Hello, dear. This is your mother. I am calling because your father and I are getting a divorce. I won’t be returning home for Thanksgiving and I have no idea what your father is planning over the holiday. I’ll be in touch with my new number. Love you, honey. Hope you stay out of trouble.”

The air was thick in silence when the machine clicked it’s end.

All three watched me, but I was paralyzed.

Finally, I choked out, “God.”

Corrigan reached inside one of the beer cases and offered a bottle. Bryce took it, opened it, and moved it into my numb fingers.

I downed it.

Another beer came along and I downed that one.

A third proceeded the same until I spit it out and threw the bottle across the kitchen.

The buzzer rang on the oven, but I ignored it and walked upstairs. I passed my bed, headed straight for the bathroom, dropped my clothes, and stepped into my shower. I turned it to a scalding temperature and stood there, with my head hung downwards. After awhile, I slid down and wrapped my arms around my legs, hugging them to my chest.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, but I stayed when I felt the first chill. I didn’t move until my entire body trembled from the cold. And I wasn’t too surprised to see that Bryce had taken root on my toilet seat when I climbed out. I wrapped a towel around my body and moved into my bedroom. After I closed the door, I just crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me.

Bryce stood beside the bed. He watched me.

After awhile he slid to sit on the floor beside my bed. He didn’t watch me, but just stayed there.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t do anything.

“Do you want a beer?” Bryce asked sometime later.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He stood up and returned a little later with four beers. He uncapped two and handed one to me. I sat up and downed it. I passed him the empty bottle as he held out the second. The third and fourth went down the same way.

After the fourth, I looked up and asked, “Is this a wrong coping mechanism?”

Bryce flashed a grin and my heart beat.