Retribution

                         CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I was starting to feel it—the same insidious feeling that always found me at the bottom of the bottle. It blanketed me in numbness, and for the first time in forever, the echoes of Julian's betrayal were quiet.

If the pregame were a competition, I was definitely in first.

"My mom won't be back until Sunday." Lydia turned to me before she headed up the stairs. "So we'll have the house to ourselves this weekend."

She was so composed. "Message me when you get there, and I'll show you where our tent is." If the red in her cheeks hadn't deepened, giving her away, I would have never known that she was even feeling the effects at all.

She left me after that to join Noah and Ian as hosts for the evening. I turned away and let the intoxication walk me back over the bed. It was the best kind of feeling, like taking the passenger seat in your own body.

I didn't have to think. Or worry. Or mourn. None of that could reach me here.

"Nathan's on his way," Avery said as I plopped back down next to her at the foot of the bed.

"Is he picking us up first?" I asked, "Or them?" Avery's features hardened. At first, she didn't say anything, like she was mulling over all the possibilities in her head.

"He's probably gonna pick them up first." This new revelation had her reaching for the bottle. Avery wasn't even close to touching where I was. She didn't have a reason to dive off the deep end.

But something changed after these newly calculated facts, and I wasn't exactly sure what. She grabbed for the bottle and put herself closer to me in the race to the other side.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, without even meaning to.

The heat in my face made my head feel too heavy for my body. I laid back on the comforter and felt the flames expand to my ears. "What happened at prom?"

She sighed, joining me on the cotton blanket, her eyes unmoving from the ceiling. "I just told Aiden that I don't feel that way about him."

Avery never painted a full picture of anything. Sometimes, if you were lucky, she would throw out scraps for you to put together yourself. "And I probably never will."

But usually there were far too many missing pieces for there to ever be a complete puzzle. Which always left my mind wandering.

"So," As a passenger, I was only allowed so much control over the more rational parts of my brain. Which made my thoughts harder to predict. "You don't like him, then?"

"No, Faith." Her voice jumped to the same octave that it did earlier. "I don't like him."

"I'll be honest, though." She continued, "I do feel bad about everything."

Our conversation ended there, with more questions than answers. The situation wasn't crystal but I understood things a fraction of an inch more clearly. Maybe, while my expedition was driven by hurt, hers was running on guilt.

We both heard Nathan pull into the driveway. The loud music makes his car especially distinguishable.

I was comfortable where I was. The world felt conquerable, and my mind was tuned to a channel that played only white noise. This would've been a good place to settle down if it were any other night, just not tonight.

Tonight, I wasn't searching for comfort, I wanted satiation. So, I scooped the bottle up from the ground, and we headed for the stairs.

A noise stopped us before we could get too far. There was movement across the floorboards above us. "Hello?" Someone called out.

The bottle took away more than just my suffering. I couldn't place the voice at the top of the stairs. My own senses sided with the fever. Sight. Hearing. Both traitors that were conspiring against me.

"Um," she paused. "Yeah?" Avery's brows pulled together the same way they did when Aiden was around.

He wasn't alone. A choir of footsteps descended the stairs. "You guys ready to go?"

The cavalry didn't have any trouble making themselves at home. Aiden walked right past us, towards the futon, opening his backpack and pulling objects out from inside. "I'm just gonna roll really quick, and then we can go."

Jackson strolled in after him, claiming one of the other cushions. His dishwater blonde hair looked even darker when wet, the front strands falling over his eyes just as they always did. "I brought this."

Metal landed on the wooden coffee table. It was a tall can. I knew better than to trust the outside appearance of any alcoholic drink. All they did was lie. But the neon colors pleaded for me to believe their truth.

Nathan took the final spot. "An alcoholic energy drink?" He read the large lettering. "That sounds awful."

"Cassie bought a whole case of them before she got arrested," Jackson said, "and now they're just sitting in the kitchen."

Aiden had his tools spread out in front of him. A small pair of scissors. The weed. A two-pack of pre-rolled cigars. He looked like a doctor in the operating room, ready to begin his surgery. "What percent is it?"

Jackson turned the can. "Twelve."

"Works for me."

It opened with a pop and fizzle. The carbonation bubbled to the surface. We all waited curiously for Jackson's opinion. "There's no way my mom drinks this."

He set it back down on the table. "Cassie doesn't get the good stuff?" Aiden laughed.

"I don't even know what flavor that's supposed to be."

I could see the label from Lydia's cotton covers: "It says watermelon."

"Let me see." Aiden paused his procedure to entertain our nonsense. "Oh my god." His face soured.

"What is that?"

I was invested now, I had to know what was waiting for me inside the vibrant-colored can. Aiden handed it over to me. I could feel the fumes assaulting my nose as I moved it towards my mouth.

Toxic waste drowned my tastebuds. I only had it sitting in my throat for half a second, but I was glad when it was over. It was like someone decided to make cleaning supplies a proper beverage.

"Woah!" was all I could get out, the taste still fresh on my tongue. I tried to get Avery to join in on the experience, but she just shook her head.

"So Nate, I was thinking that since none of us have a tent for tonight, we could just sleep in your car." Aiden packed his things back into his bag.

"I asked Julian if he had any room in his tent," he continued. The channel in my head started changing. "But he said it's already full."

There was no more white noise. Things were moving around so fast that I couldn't even find my way back to misery and grieving. But something had to fill the void.

"Yeah, that's fine. I actually just cleaned out my car."

I didn't recognize this new sensation rising to the forefront; it was like stone in my chest. The fever melted it down so that it would fit perfectly between each of my ribs. I could feel it—dense and jagged— with every exhale.

It shared my body with me, unlike my sadness, which hoarded everything for itself.

I pulled out my phone. I had been waiting for the right time to return to my previous conversation with Julian. "Tonight." I pressed send.

Our chain of messages stared back at me. I knew now what it was, that feeling of stone, buried deep in my chest.

I didn't fight it. I didn't want to. Things were finally starting to make sense now that the retribution had taken control.

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