Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
He frowns. “My help?”
“Yeah,” I say like he’s dense. “Your help, dummy.”
He rolls his eyes but he nods me on.
“Bethany Torch asked me to Winter Formal.” I wait for a reaction, but he has none. I scoff. “Bethany Torch,” I emphasize.
He frowns. “Should I know who that is?”
“She’s like the hottest girl in the senior class.”
He shrugs again.
Oh my God. He’s useless! No, no he’s not. I can still use his help. “Okaaay. So I need to know if you think Mom and Dad would be chill with me going to the dance with Bethany.”
“She’s a senior?” His frown returns.
“Eighteen,” I say the dreaded word.
He shakes his head and then stops. Then he tilts his head like he’s reconsidering. Then he shakes his head again. “No. There’s no way.”
“Ugh,” I groan.
His eyes soften. “I mean, I could help maybe? If you ask them when I’m around, they might be more lenient.”
It is true that Xander softens our parents in ways my other siblings and I can’t. I don’t want to use that for my gain, but is it really using it if he’s offering?
Before I can reply, I notice Vada and Winona ushering Audrey into the house in a hurried manner. The other guests don’t seem to be paying attention, too focused on the fact that Ben has approached the table of cups for punch pong. Except, they’re filling the cups with actual beer this time.
“I’ll be back,” I tell my brother, slipping away in a rush to follow my best friends. They’re helping Audrey into her bathroom when I catch up to them. She pukes on the floor as soon as Nona gets the toilet lid up.
“I’m stepping on it!” Vada squeals, barefoot.
“Sorrrrrry,” Audrey slurs.
“We don’t care about a little puke, babe,” Nona says, taking her hair in a fist and guiding her to the toilet.
Vada squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to gag. “I’d step in your puke any day, Audrey.” She stifles the next silent gag in her fist.
I hold back a snorted laugh and grab a towel from the linen closest. “Puke Feet,” I call out. Vada opens her eyes, and I toss the towel to her.
She catches it easily. “Kinney, I swear to all that’s holy if you make that my nickname—”
“Won’t the BMX boys dig it?” I ask.
“They will not,” Vada says, wiping up her heels and then dropping the towel on the floor to clean up the vomit. She gives me a look. “Kinney.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Puke Feet.” I make a cross over my heart.
Vada turns to Nona in horror.
“She’s just joking,” Winona assures. “She’s not gonna keep calling you that.” She looks to me. “Right?” Her eyebrows rise in warning like she’s caring for a baby bird.
“Right.” I lean a hip in the door. “That’s what crossing my heart means.” I look Vada over. “Anyway why are you barefoot?”
“I was going to jump into the pool, so I took off my Converses,” Vada explains and tosses the dirty towel into the tub. I run cold water over a new washcloth.
Audrey pukes for the third or fourth time. I’ve lost count. Winona rubs her back tenderly.
“I told you it was a death punch,” I say, handing Nona the washcloth to wipe up any stray puke on Audrey’s face.
“Kinney,” Vada snaps. “Can we not talk about death right now?”
“Well unless she’s making love to the toilet, what do you call that?” I wave a hand at Audrey. “Because there’s no elixir of life in that party punch.”
“Guys, stop,” Nona says quietly. “Audrey is getting really pale.”
My stomach knots. “What?”
Vada bends down to Audrey, getting closer. I take a step back, frozen in the doorway. I’m such an idiot. A bitch. A karmic poisonous toxin. Why do I make jokes that just end up turning badly?
“Audrey?” Vada whispers in concern. She’s a better friend than me.
In fact, I’m positive that the Worst Friend award in our friendship group belongs to me.
I grind down on my teeth, trying to stop the dark emotions from barreling into me. Audrey keeps vomiting, and she’s normally pale. But I agree with Winona, her skin has turned ashy. If anything happens to her…my throat swells.
“Could it be alcohol poisoning?” Vada asks.
“I don’t know,” Nona breathes. “How much gin and vodka did you put in the punch?”
“I didn’t think it was that much. Maybe like half a handle of gin. Fuck, Nona.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Winona says quickly.
What would Aunt Rose do?
“We should call for backup,” I suggest.
Winona’s already grabbing her phone. She doesn’t give us any time to throw out suggestions. She dials a number. When her gaze hits mine, she says, “My sister will know what to do.”
I get it.
Sulli won’t nark.
Sulli understands getting sick from alcohol.
It’s not my first choice, but Nona was quicker to call.