“You sure you don’t want a slice of my famous specialty pineapple, bacon, and onion pizza, ladies?” Charlie asked with a chuckle, “It’ll be here any minute!” Emily glanced at her phone and saw it was time for Hannah and her to head out to the party. They’d be late if they didn’t leave soon.
“No one’s gonna want to make out with me if I eat that so I think I’ll pass, Charlie,” Hannah said and laughed. Emily reddened, hoping Nate and her mom hadn’t heard Hannah’s comment.
“See ya, kiddos!” Charlie and her mom yelled.
As Hannah and Emily headed toward the car, Emily glanced back through the window at Nate sitting on the couch, watching TV alone. She felt a pang of guilt that she was leaving him when he had wanted so badly to have a family night. She shook her head and tried to refocus on the evening ahead.
“So, whose party is this, anyways?” she asked as Hannah started the engine.
“This girl Madison from the field hockey team,” Hannah replied. “Do you know her? Blond hair, big boobs?”
Emily did know who Madison was. She’d once gone to a sleepover at Madison’s in the fourth grade and from what Emily remembered, Madison lived in a nice neighborhood with big houses that had beautifully landscaped yards. The kind of neighborhood that she dreamed of living in. Madison had invited ten friends over for the slumber party. They had pizza and ice cream cake, and stayed up watching movies in her huge basement. At about midnight, Madison’s mom had come down and told everyone to set up for bedtime, so all the girls had gotten their bags and set up their sparkly, princess-themed sleeping bags and pillows like the slumber party pros they were, unlike Emily. Emily did not bring a sleeping bag because she didn’t own a sleeping bag, much less a sparkly, princess-themed one. She felt so mortified about not having one, she pretended she felt sick and went upstairs to tell Madison’s mom that she’d thrown up in the bathroom. She had gripped her stomach pretending to be in pain to prove her point. Madison’s mom had to call Debbie at the bar, and Emily had to wait an hour for her to come pick her up. Once she was in the car, Emily had cried the whole way home and kept pretending she was sick. She didn’t want to tell her mom that she was embarrassed about the sleeping bag situation. That Monday at school, all the girls were talking about the fun things they did after Emily had left the party, and she’d felt so left out. She was never invited to a slumber party by any of those girls again. Maybe they didn’t want me to throw up in their big houses like they thought I did in Madison’s, she’d assumed. Or maybe they only wanted friends who had enough money to own a princess sleeping bag.
“Yeah, I know her,” Emily answered as she gazed out of the window, starting to get nervous about being in a room full of people she wasn’t friends with.
“Open the glove compartment,” Hannah directed her. Emily opened it and took out a plastic bag filled with mini vodka bottles.
“Where’d you get these?” Emily asked, her eyes narrowing.
“I have my sources. Hand me one.” Hannah grinned.
Emily took a bottle out and handed it to Hannah warily, wondering if she was planning to drink it while driving. Her curiosity ended as soon as Hannah grabbed the bottle out of her hand, unscrewed the cap, and downed it.
“I got four bottles, two for each of us,” she told Emily. Emily examined the bag on her lap and took another bottle out. It reminded her of the mini bottle from Alice and Wonderland that said “Drink me.” She unscrewed the cap and smelled it, twisting her head away quickly from the strong alcohol smell.
“Here,” Hannah said, handing Emily a small bottle of apple juice she was holding between her legs. “Chase it with this.”
Emily forced a smile and then poured the warm, burning liquid into her mouth and quickly took a sip of apple juice.
“One more to go and we’ll be the perfect amount of relaxed for the party.”
They each took the last two shots from their tiny bottles and finished off the apple juice. As they approached Madison’s house, Emily started to feel the effects calming down her body and nerves. She opened the passenger mirror and double-checked her makeup as Hannah spritzed herself with some perfume and popped some gum into her mouth. They got out of the car and approached the party, their boots clicking on the newly paved driveway. Madison’s party was in the same house that Emily remembered, and it looked just as scary as it had when her mom picked her up in the middle of the night so many years before.
Hannah approached the front door first, and Emily was happy to let her take the lead. When they entered, she scanned the living room to the left of the foyer, dining room to the right, and kitchen straight ahead through the hallway. It wasn’t tremendously crowded but had a good amount of people inside. As they walked to the drink station in the kitchen, a couple of people said hi to Hannah, completely ignoring Emily.
“Here we go,” Hannah announced as she took two red solo cups off the stack and filled them with ice, ladling some mysterious-looking juice from a punch bowl into each of them.
“Jungle juice, my favorite!” she exclaimed as she handed Emily her cup. Emily took a sip and was surprised by how good it tasted. Fruity, like Kool-Aid.
“Hannah!” a girl called from the family room adjacent to the kitchen. “Come play some drinking games with us!”
Hannah grabbed Emily’s hand and tugged her over to the group of people crowded around a coffee table scattered with cards. Hannah introduced Emily to the group: Steve from the football team, Ben from the lacrosse team, twin cheerleaders Stacy and Mackenzie, and Brody, who was a male cheerleader. Brody, who was super bubbly, turned to Emily and explained the rules of the game, Cards Against Humanity, and whispered details about each player. She learned that Ben was dating Stacy, Steve was dating Mackenzie, and Brody was dating a guy named Miles, an aspiring Broadway dancer who was at an audition in D.C. that very weekend. Emily glanced at their mouths, noticing they were all stained burgundy from the jungle juice. As she began to play with her new friends, she allowed her worries to melt away. She started to loosen up, and her nerves disappeared. Everyone was so nice and friendly, and she laughed so hard, her belly hurt. She could hear “In My Feelings” by Drake playing on the speakers and unconsciously began bopping her head to the beat, singing along as she sipped her drink. Look, the new me is really still the real me, I swear you gotta feel me before they try and kill me.
During the second round of the game, she spied Topper and Chuck in the kitchen making themselves drinks. Hannah must’ve seen them too because she got up from her seat and veered over to give Topper a kiss. Chuck smiled at Emily as he started toward her just as Savannah, the captain of the lacrosse team, approached him and put her arms around him. He turned to her and kissed her on the cheek. I thought Topper and Chuck were calling her a slut at the playground? Emily thought as she watched Savannah grab his hands and lead him outside to a group of people standing around a firepit. She glanced around the room to see if Hannah had seen Savannah, her frenemy, but Hannah was now nowhere in sight.
Without Hannah or Chuck around anymore, Emily decided to focus on the game. She was happy she didn’t have to worry about Chuck shoving his tongue down her throat. And she didn’t need to be glued to Hannah at all times; she could make new friends.
Ben flipped over a card and read it to the group: “In return for my soul, the devil promised me_____.”
Emily scanned her cards before placing down the one she thought would be the most appropriate. Ben read the responses: “Dead babies. Keg stands. Doin’ it in the butt. Five-dollar footlongs. Superhero dildos.” Everyone was laughing as Ben’s face became serious while reading Emily’s card: “Acceptance.”
Everyone looked confused and Emily blushed, hoping they didn’t realize she’d been the one to put down that card.
“Well, I think the winner is Doin’ it in the butt!” Ben yelled as Brody cheered and gave him a high five.
Emily continued to play for what must have been an hour as someone continuously filled up her cup. She’d lost count of how many drinks she’d had, and Hannah had never come back. She’s probably somewhere with Topper, she thought, annoyed that Hannah had ditched her again. Her head started to spin, and she stood up to go to the bathroom, trying to remember where it was. When she finally staggered her way into the powder room, she closed the door and immediately threw up bright red jungle juice into the toilet. Well, there you go, Madison. I threw up for real in your house this time, she thought.
She flushed the toilet twice and tried to clean up any red marks before glancing in the mirror with blurry vision. She realized she probably needed to get home before she made any bad decisions or got sick again. She fumbled in her purse and took out her phone to text Hannah. Squinting, she saw that she had a missed text from Nate. She opened it to see a photo he’d taken of Debbie and Charlie cuddling on the couch and another photo of himself holding a huge bowl of popcorn. The text said, “Wish you were here” below the pics and the pang of guilt she’d felt earlier in the night crept its way back into her heart. Trying to erase the remorse, she went back to searching for Hannah’s number and texted her, asking where she was.
“Sorry girl Topper wanted some alone time are you ok?” Hannah texted back.
“Not feeling too hot do you think we could head home soon?” Emily texted, hoping she didn’t sound too much like a loser. She didn’t want Hannah to know she’d thrown up.
“We went for a drive and will be twenty or thirty more minutes if you know what I mean. I can send a car to take you home?”
“Okay, thanks,” Emily texted back. She stumbled out of the bathroom, trying not to sway back and forth, and staggered toward the front door. She wobbled to the front porch, hoping not too many people noticed her leave. The night was cold and crisp, and she could smell the bonfire and weed drifting from the back of the house. She sat down and started rummaging through her purse for some gum, hoping that when the Uber arrived, she wouldn’t barf in the car.
After about ten minutes passed, headlights approached, almost blinding her. She put her arm up to shield her eyes as the beams flashed, indicating they were there to pick her up. She got up and hobbled toward the Uber, then realized it was not an Uber. It was a bright yellow Mustang . . . and Mr. Thomas was driving. The passenger window rolled down and he smiled at her from the driver’s side.
“Your chauffeur is here, madam,” he yelled over the lousy music blasting from his radio.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Thomas,” Emily murmured. “What’re you doing here?”
“Hannah texted me that you needed a ride, and I was just coming home from getting some drinks with my buddies down the street. Hop in,” he yelled as he leaned over the center console and opened the passenger side door for her. She felt a surge of panic go through her. Why would Hannah text Mr. Thomas of all people to come get me? I can’t let him see me drunk, she thought.
“It’s not a big deal,” Mr. Thomas assured her as he lowered the music. “I give Hannah Banana rides whenever she needs one.” He reached over and patted the passenger seat, indicating for Emily to get in. She hesitantly glanced around, hoping someone would see her and tell her what to do. She felt a wave of nausea come over her again. Not knowing what else to do, she got in the car.
“Atta girl,” he squealed in delight. “I don’t bite.” He turned up the music and backed his car out of the driveway and into the street.
“So, not feeling well, huh?” he asked her. “Have too much to drink?”
“Um, a little,” she replied hesitantly. I guess the cat’s out of the bag, she thought.
“I feel ya. I used to get at it when I was your age too.”
She leaned her head against the seat and gazed up at the moon, trying to keep her focus on something stable. Closing her eyes, she attempted to keep the nausea from creeping back into her stomach as she listened to Mr. Thomas sing along to Jason Derulo. Eventually, she heard the Mustang signal and turn into her neighborhood. As the car slowed down, she opened her eyes to see that they were not, in fact, at her house, but instead, pulling up to Mr. Thomas’s house.
“What’re we doing here?” she asked, disoriented as she jolted herself upright. “Can you take me home?”
“You don’t want your parents to see you in this condition, do you? You and Hannah can sleep at my house tonight and let the alcohol wear off for tomorrow.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, shaking her head. “My mom will be worried, and I don’t want to disturb your wife and kids.”
“No disturbing at all. They’re at our condo in Ocean City this weekend.”
She touched her temples and closed her eyes tightly, trying to process the situation. Is this really happening? she wondered as she got out her phone with shaky hands. She texted Hannah, asking if she knew Mr. Thomas was taking her to his house.
“Yes, it’s totally fine,” Hannah texted back. “I’ll be there soon and we can share the guest room.”
Emily breathed a sigh of relief. She clicked on Nate’s text from earlier and replied back: “Can you tell mom I’m just going to crash at Hannah’s tonight?”
Nate didn’t text back right away. He’d probably already gone to bed. She stumbled out of the car and Mr. Thomas led her up to the house.
“Guest room is upstairs, next to Sophie’s room,” he directed her. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “You want a beer?” he yelled.
She hesitated but then said, “No, I think I’ll just go upstairs if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine by me, darlin’,” he said as he took a sip of his beer. Emily watched him rummage through the fridge, searching for food to eat. She staggered up the stairs and found the guest room, next to Sophie’s room as Mr. Thomas had indicated. She closed the door quietly behind her, kicked off her boots and peeled off her sweater and jeans. She opened one of the dresser drawers and found a stack of seasoned T-shirts. She grabbed one and threw it over her head. Exhausted, she got under the sheets and glanced at her phone again, checking to see if Hannah had texted back. Still nothing. She put the phone down and closed her eyes, trying to make the room stop spinning.
She must’ve fallen asleep right away because when she felt Hannah get into bed next to her, she realized she hadn’t heard her come into the room. She turned around to ask her where she’d gone with Topper and realized it wasn’t Hannah in bed with her at all. Facing her in bed was Mr. Thomas, leaning his head down to kiss Emily’s neck.
“Mr. Thomas!” she said, startled. “What’re you doing in here? Get out!”
“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached toward her shirt and ran his hands down to her underwear.
“Mr. Thomas, please,” she whispered, trying to push his hands away. “Hannah will be here soon.”
“Good, then maybe Hannah Banana would like to join us.” He snickered. “Hannah likes to have fun with me too, you know.”
He tugged at her underwear hard, and she felt them rip. As he kissed her neck, she felt him push his entire weight on top of her. Is this a dream? she thought. How could you ever be perfectly sure when you were dreaming or when you were awake? Wake up, Emily! Wake up! She started to feel nauseous, and her head felt like it was spinning. She felt a tear rolling down her cheek as she tried to push him off, but he was more than double her weight.
“Don’t act like you don’t want it, Emily,” he whispered. Her head was spinning. Is this happening? Maybe Hannah already came in and this is an awful nightmare. Is this what happens when you drink too much jungle juice and throw up, you have terrible nightmares like this? She closed her eyes hard and opened them again to see if it was really happening. When she did, she saw Mr. Thomas’s dark, beady eyes looking down at her. She closed them tightly again, deciding to keep them shut.
“Please,” she begged him. “Please don’t!” More tears started streaming down her face as he advanced and then suddenly, she felt a lightning bolt of pain between her legs. I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming. She squeezed her eyes hard and start singing “American Girl” in her head, trying to drown out the grunts coming from Mr. Thomas.
When he finished, he rolled off her to the other side of the bed. Emily lay as still as a rock, not knowing what to do, praying for him to get out of the room immediately. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She winced as if he’d hit her. Then, she heard him give a little laugh as he headed out of the room.
She curled her body toward the window, trying to ignore the oozing stickiness and stinging pain coming from between her legs as she cried herself silently to sleep.