Lettie
My grand plan to get Dylan and Riley back together—in other words, fix my giant mistake—involves me getting hammered on New Year’s Eve.
I’ve never been a drinker. I leave that activity to my mom. And yes, I’m utterly mortified about Christmas Eve, but I’m glad nobody got hurt from the falling tree or the rock Bug Man tossed through the window. What the hell is wrong with people? At least Christmas morning was peaceful, and Grandma brought her cherry applesauce, which I’d honestly live off if I could.
With Christmas in the rearview, I’ve reset my focus on what I can control, or sort of control, or at least try to manipulate. Riley and I need to remain close friends (okay, besties!) for my efforts to work. Since we have zero things in common these days, I need an angle. Now that the Wookiee mystery is solved, I need something else to bond us.
Taking an approach that no sane person would ever endorse, I’ve decided to adopt Riley’s partying habits. If all goes according to plan, tonight I’ll get drunk with her, talk her into giving it another shot with Dylan, and Umbrella Man will be a thing of the past.
Riley drives me to Teagan’s house. Yeah, Teagan was one of the Middle School Meanies, too, but in for a penny, in for a pound, as my grandma would say. Mom and Dad went to a party with Uncle Ken and Aunt Emily—big night for them. I sent Dylan a text urging him to join me at Teagan’s. Somehow I neglected to mention that invitation to Riley. Not surprisingly, Dylan asked if Riley would be there, and I lied. I told him I thought she had other plans. Oops.
I have no idea where my old crew is tonight. It seems the closer I get to either Riley or Jay, the more distance I put between myself and my former life.
If anybody from the climate committee knew I was at Teagan’s, they’d be texting, asking if I needed to be rescued.
The party is twenty kids crammed into a finished basement. I feel bad for the carpet. Everyone is drinking beer out of red Solo cups. Totally environmentally unfriendly, but great for beer pong, which half the kids are playing.
Teagan’s parents supplied the alcohol. It’s kind of weird and unquestionably illegal, but nobody is going to make a stink about it. It is free beer, after all.
My first drink goes down without much gagging. It tastes bitter, with an aftertaste that reminds me of dirt. But I keep going. The second one doesn’t taste as bad. By the third, I’m feeling a buzz. And after the fourth, I’m regretting all the parties I never attended. Now I know why everyone does this.
The music is loud and we have to press lips to ears to be heard. Two hours into the festivities and almost every surface is sticky from spilled beer, some of it my own.
I’m not entirely irresponsible. I’ve collected car keys from all the partyers and given them to Teagan’s parents, who acted appreciative—not enough, though, in my opinion. My guess is they were embarrassed not to have thought of it first.
Around nine o’clock, Dylan comes strolling in. Two seconds later, he’s double-fisting his beers. He gives a yowl to announce his arrival, drawing the interest of a girl who isn’t Riley and several boys who surround him to grunt out greetings while thumping their chests against him.
Riley grabs my arm and pulls me aside. “What the hell is he doing here?” she says with alarm. Her pupils are dilated, and I’m sure it’s not just the alcohol. “Who invited him?”
I shrug. “No idea?” I take a long swig of beer, avoiding eye contact with Riley. Can’t get much down because my stomach has shrunk to the size of a pea. “Why don’t you talk to him? Maybe it’s a sign from the universe that you two can work some things out.”
Dylan shoots a look our way. He’s forlorn. Desperate.
My fault … my fault … my fault thumps in my head, like that guilty heartbeat from the Edgar Allan Poe story I read in ninth grade. Even so, I’m torn. Jay’s warning that Riley is no good should carry some weight, but here I am, leading Dylan right back into the clutches of the femme fatale. There’s every chance I’m going to make things worse, not better.
Right or wrong, there’s no backing out now. He and Riley are both at this party, within feet of each other.
Riley and I pass some time playing beer pong. Dylan lurks nearby. I’m fast moving from buzzed to drunk, and I think I like it.
The booze may be bolstering my confidence, but it’s not giving me any great ideas. Riley’s acting all aloof now that Dylan’s around. Not that she’s been particularly chatty or open since our trip to Revere. She hasn’t once brought up the Wookiee, Umbrella Man, or the pill habit. My guess is she’s working hard to suppress it all. She’s like a live version of your favorite train-wreck girl on a terrible reality TV show.
“Really, Rye, go talk to him.” I nod toward Dylan when I notice her looking his way. She doesn’t say no, so I press on. “Dump that older guy and get back with D. He loves you. Give him a chance. You two were great together.”
Riley doesn’t look particularly convinced. “Just leave it alone, Lettie, okay?”
It’s sound advice that I wish I had taken a lot earlier.
I break away from Riley to talk to Dylan. “What do you have to lose?” I say. “If you want her back, you’ve got to tell her.”
It doesn’t take much prodding. Dylan approaches Riley with a confidence that I suspect is all show. I’m standing far enough away to see their interaction without calling attention to myself.
Dylan taps Riley on the shoulder. She turns. Her expression grows somber, like we’ve gone from a party to a wake. They talk, but I can’t hear anything over the loud music and party noise.
As the conversation continues my hope dims. Dylan becomes agitated. He’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, nervously running a hand through his hair. He takes a forward step, invading Riley’s personal space. She backs away. He leans in close, too close. More words are exchanged. Judging by Riley’s furrowed brow and folded arms, she’s not eager to hear much more. Seconds later, she turns her back and storms away.
Shit.
Riley doesn’t come back for a long while. She’s gone off with Teagan somewhere, probably to vent about Dylan showing up uninvited—or technically, semi-uninvited. Meanwhile, I keep an eye on my cousin while the party gets rowdier. It’s an hour and a half before midnight, and already Dylan’s wasted. I suspect he did some pre-partying.
Everyone is drunk, it seems. A couple kids have puked. I’ve seen some quality drama—boy-girl crap mostly—but my focus remains on my cousin. I’m not here to enjoy myself. I’m trying to set things right, but it’s looking grim. I might even have made matters worse.
For the last ten minutes, Dylan has been slumped down against a wall, staring vacantly into his Solo cup.
“This party’s lame, and I’m tired,” I say, even though it’s not yet eleven o’clock.
“Yeah, I can’t stay here anymore,” he says.
“Let’s get an Uber.”
He rises clumsily to his feet. “I’ll never stop loving her … never.”
And I’ll never stop feeling responsible, I think.
I notice Riley across the room. Dylan sees her as well, talking to one of the cuter boys on the Meadowbrook soccer team. His body tenses, and he leaves my side. I’m worried he might start a fight, but he says that he just has to grab his stuff. He’ll meet me outside.
“Okay,” I say. “Our Uber is ten minutes away.”
We’re shivering as we wait for our ride. The moon is a whisper behind a thin cover of clouds. We barely speak on the trip back to Alton Road.
It’s eleven twenty-five when we finally get home. My buzz is slowly wearing off. Now I just feel exhausted and a little sick to my stomach. I highly doubt I’m going to see midnight. Lights are on at the Kumars’ house, but I don’t bother texting Jay. That’s over and done with, I remind myself, still wishing it could be different—a better kiss or another one, at least.
“Do you want to hang out?” I make the offer to Dylan even though all I want to do is go to bed. “We shouldn’t be alone on New Year’s.”
“I’m always alone,” Dylan mumbles before sulking back to his house. His head hangs low. His pain rips through me as though it were my own.
As it turns out, I can’t sleep. The guilt keeps gnawing at me in a beaver-meets-tree kind of way. At midnight, I enjoy a glass of orange juice, along with a lonely solo toast to the new year.
Not long after that, my phone starts vibrating. I assume it’s my friends from the other party, feeling bad that they forgot to wish me Happy New Year at midnight, but I’m stunned to see Jay’s name on the display.
“Happy New Year,” I say, surprised.
“Lettie!” Jay says with urgency. “Thank God you answered. I saw a light on in your room. Are you home right now?”
“Okay, that’s a little creepy. Are you spying on me?”
“This isn’t a time for jokes!” he shouts. “I’m being serious. I think there’s an emergency at Dylan’s house. Do you have a key? We need to check on him—right now!”
My heart cannons up into my throat. Aunt Emily and Uncle Ken are at the party with my parents, so Dylan’s home alone.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I was walking by and saw him outside. He fell over, didn’t look right to me. Hardly got himself in the door. I’m afraid something is really wrong with him. Can you meet me outside?”
I hadn’t thought Dylan was in that bad a shape when I dropped him off. But he’s home alone, so maybe he hit his parents’ liquor cabinet hard. Why would he have staggered outside? Was he looking for Riley? I rush out of my bedroom. “I’ll meet you over there right now,” I say. “I know where they hide the key.”
I race down the stairs, calling Dylan’s cell on the way. The phone rings and rings, but no one answers, and it rolls to voice mail. A drumbeat of fear fills my chest.
When I meet up with Jay, he looks panicked. “We need to hurry, Lettie,” he says.
We rush across the street. I try the front door, but it’s locked. I search the ground for the fake rock with the key hidden inside. A moment later, the front door is open and I’m calling Dylan’s name as we enter his house.
No answer. All the lights are on, but it’s quiet as a museum. We move quickly from room to room, checking the living room, the kitchen, before heading upstairs. I go straight to Dylan’s bedroom. The door is closed. I move to knock, but Jay pushes past me and barges inside.
My breath catches when I follow him into the room. I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.
Dylan is sprawled out on his back on the floor. He appears lifeless. His face is frighteningly pale. His arms and hands are gray, as if the blood has drained from his body. His lips are tinged a deathly blue.
I scream, “Dylan! Oh my god, Dylan!” I rush toward him, not knowing what to do.
Luckily, Jay appears to be thinking more quickly than I am. He grabs something from his coat pocket and tells me to call 911.
I fumble for my phone. My fingers don’t seem to be working right, I’m shaking so badly. Instead, I tell Siri to make the call for me.
The dispatcher comes on the line almost immediately. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
The words tumble out of my mouth. “My cousin, he’s unresponsive.”
“Okay, let me get you mapped.” A moment later, the dispatcher says, “You’re on Alton Road?”
“Yes, number 22 at the end of the cul-de-sac.”
“Okay, we have help on the way. Is he breathing?”
As I push Jay aside to check my cousin’s breathing, I see that he’s spraying something up Dylan’s nose. “What the hell is that?” I ask.
“Narcan,” Jay says. “Just in case he took something.”
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Is he even breathing?” I ask. “I need to know. Do we need to do CPR?”
Jay puts his ear to Dylan’s mouth. He doesn’t look relieved. Then he begins to press on Dylan’s chest. I don’t know first aid, so I can’t say if he’s doing it right or not.
By now, panic has engulfed me. I can barely talk, but I manage to tell the dispatcher that I don’t think Dylan is breathing.
The dispatcher begins to instruct me as to how to administer CPR, but before I can relay that information to Jay, Dylan begins to stir. Already, I can hear sirens in the distance.
Relief washes over me with tears of gratitude. Good Lord, Dylan is moaning—barely moving, but moaning nonetheless.
“Talk to me!” Jay says forcefully. “D, come on. Talk! Open your eyes. You can do it.”
Dylan’s eyes open. “What’s going on?” he mutters. “What’s happening?” He makes a feeble attempt to sit up but doesn’t have the strength.
The sirens are right outside the house. Red and blue strobe lights illuminate the room, like in a TV movie. There’s banging on the front door. I sprint downstairs to open it. From above, I hear Dylan assuring Jay that he’s okay.
“Upstairs,” I tell the paramedics, who race into the house.
The EMTs work efficiently as a team. Everything becomes a blur as they get Dylan onto a stretcher and into the waiting ambulance.
I call Aunt Emily and then my mom. Everyone is freaking out. They say they’ll meet the ambulance at the hospital. I’m outside now, but adrenaline has numbed me to the cold. I see Jay talking to someone by a police car. In a daze, I join them.
“He should be okay,” the officer says. “He’ll get the help he needs. You saved his life, young man, by giving him the Narcan.”
I grab Jay’s hand. My heart swells as fresh tears rise. It could be my imagination or a trick of the light, but I’m pretty sure I see tears in Jay’s eyes as well.