Lizzie

Oh. My. God. My head hurts, and I feel so damn sick, like really sick. The champagne was polished off last night nicely and the girls left me around eleven. Yeah, a bit late, but my folks didn't get back until the early hours. I could hear the door downstairs and them talking as they came down the landing and into their bedroom.

I need some headache pills and to spend the day under the duvet. It's already seven, and usually I get up much earlier and head out for a run. To be honest, I've slept through my alarm. Groaning, I flip the duvet off me and get up very, very slowly. It's like the whole room is spinning. I may vomit. Yuck. Yep, it's going to happen. See, alcohol and I do not mix. This is another reason why I don't do a lot of drinking; it just fucks me right up.

Within seconds, I am dry heaving over the white, porcelain toilet. Surely I'd feel much better if I could actually puke. My left hand is holding up my hair, and the other is steadying me over the toilet.

"You okay in there?" Great, now my mom is at my door.

"Yeah, perfect," I shout back, feeling anything but perfect. I retch again.

"It doesn't sound like it. I'm coming in." Tip-fucking-top. Now I can't even feel miserable and hungover without my mom playing audience. I just want to be left alone to deal with this.

"Oh, baby. Are you ill? You need to go back to bed and sleep, honey." Is she kidding me? If I mother found out it was because the girls were over and we drank way too much champagne, there is no way she'd be so nice to me and send me back to bed. Not to mention the reason why we were drinking. Namely, discussing how Lizzie, I, Me is going to lose her virginity and who the lucky candidate is going to be. So far, it is looking like Miles in my quest to make Brandon realize what he has right under his nose. Okay, it'd probably be much easier if I just came out with it like a proper adult conversation.

Hey, by the way, I am really into you. I'm crushing on you so badly. What do you think? Could we try dating? Fuck that. I heave, and this time, vomit projects itself into the toilet. My mother rushes over and frees my hand up and takes my hair in hers.

"There is no way you are going into school today, Lizzie. I'll call the head and let her know you are too sick." Guilt floods through me like a tidal wave. It's just a hangover, but I can't tell Mom that. It's making me feel totally shit that my mom thinks I am her poorly baby today. I groan again. Mom rubs my back with her right hand.

"It'll be okay, sweetie. We just need to get you back to bed and top you up with some fluids and vitamin C." She continues to rub my back.

There is no way I can stay at home. My assignment has to be handed in, and I was also hoping to finish Brandon's for him. If I hadn't been so sulky and stubborn last night after he left, I would have done it for him. I know how much stuff he has on his plate right now and how hard the coach is pushing them. It's not like Lilly isn't helping Denver out.

Neither of the guys is dumb. Far from it. In fact, Brandon is going to double major when he is in college. He has opted for International Politics and Sports Science. Denver is doing Sports Science – so you know the guys are smart, real smart, but when they're training and practicing a couple of hours each side of the school day and then some, well, it doesn't take a mathematical genius to realize that they do not have the luxury of time for all this work we've got.

"Can I have some Panadol, Mom, please and just a glass of water? I'll be down for breakfast if you could ask Nina to make some bland oatmeal. That'll help settle my stomach." I retch again, and less vomit comes up, thank God. "I've got to hand a couple of assignments in."

"If you're sure. You're such a good girl, Lizzie. Always thinking of school, but honestly, if you're feeling so bad, I can drop it off for you." Now I feel even more guilty. My mother is the best mother, I swear she is, but knowing this is self-inflicted makes me feel so bad. The last thing I want is for my mom to be worrying about me. I just nod.

Mom gets up, and I take over holding my hair up, although now I do feel that at least I could stand at the sink and brush my teeth and cleanse my face. I hear my phone ring and make my way very gingerly towards my bedside table. It's Tammy.

Not going in today. Way too hungover. Told my mom I have a stomach bug. Can you take notes during history and math for me, please, and bring me anything back that needs doing, please?

Tammy must be feeling really fucked up; she usually works through anything.

Of course. Don't worry; get some rest. I feel like hell on earth, but going in. I have Brandon's assignment to finish, so I have to go; otherwise, he'll get dropped a grade.

I wait for her to respond.

K. Catch up later and thanks, honey xx

Sure, np xx.

Mom reappears with Panadol in one hand and water in the other. "Here you go, sweetie. Get this down, you, and take it easy. It won't matter if you're a bit late. I'll call ahead and let them know. So take your time." I smile weakly, feeling so wretched that right now all I want to do is hide under the duvet. Yet, I can't let Brandon down. I promised I would do his assignment for him, and what are best friends for, if not to help each other out? He is always there for me, and this is the least I can do. It's not anyone else's fault but my own for drowning my body in pink champagne last night.

I groan and tell myself to pull my big girl pants on and behave like a grown-up and get ready for classes.

Such a drag.