"See that line there in the hardwood?" she asks, pointing down at something. "Walk it."
"I've got perrrrrfect balance." I try to walk the line, and Jenna laughs as I wobble into the mattress. "S’all good, Jenna Benenna. Get some sleep and sleep it off. Walk it off." She laces her hand through my arm, and when the floor is tilting so bad I'm worried I'll fall and take her down with me, Jenna wraps her arm around my waist instead. "If you can't do the stairs," she murmurs, "I'm calling Zane for assistance."
I groan at that—this Zane guy likes me—and Jenna whispers, "Don't be talking loud about it now."
Through the house. A bunch of color, faces. Cookies on the counter!
We're out in the night. "The bugs are loud," I tell her.
"Crickets."
"I know."
Her arm is around me. "Hate that this is uphill for a minute." Up the driveway, through the bushes...my apartment is the complex right beside here. “Wanna stay?" I ask her.
"Can't. I got that super early class that's way across campus, out on the east side. Never get there on time walking all this way."
"I gotcha."
"So how did you meet him? The influencer?" she asks.
Influencer? Oh, she means Dom Bryant. "Atlanta."
"Were you with Daniel?"
"Yeah."
"This drunk?" she asks as we move through the bushes.
"Shut up, Jenna."
I feel sicker now. As my shoe soles touch the dark asphalt of my apartment parking lot. As the pine trees all around us sway in moonlight. Everything around me doesn't seem real.
"Joshie?"
We stop walking, which makes my brain slosh. I blink at her face. "Yeah?"
Jenna's hand comes to my face. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." My voice is a whine.
Her fingertip touches my eyelid, dropping a black veil over the top half of the apartment building. "What did you take?" she asks, quiet.
"Just stuff. Nothing weird or anything," I throw in.
Her arm goes around me again. "Let's go slow. You're really hot and breathing kind of fast. Do you feel funny? Sick?"
"I feel good." I put my arm around her, too, and Jenna leans her head against my shoulder. "I love you, Joshie. You're one of my favorite people on this planet. Whatever you did tonight, don't do it again, okay? You promise?"
"Okay."
Maybe Jenna's right. I feel so sick as we go up the stairs. Like the blood’s leaving my veins and my body might crumple like a balloon without air in it. I can't get my key into the lock, so she unlocks it for me.
When we get inside, she looks around—it's messy—and then grabs hold of my hand. She frowns up at me.
"Josh?" I force my eyes to stay open, so I can look back at her. "You don't look good. Your hand is so...clammy. And cold."
"I'm fine." I need to sit down. I sit on the couch and put my head in my hands. I feel sick and sweaty. It'll pass, though. Always does.
I feel Jenna's hand on my back. Making me feel sicker...but I don't want to hurt her feelings.
Then I know I'm gonna barf, so I rush toward the bathroom. I don't know what happens till I'm on the floor. My chest hurts. I can't breathe. And then I'm puking—on the floor—and Jenna's saying something but I can't catch my breath. So much puking.
I can't breathe!
My eyes drip and my head throbs. I can feel my heart beat behind my eyes. My throat burns. I try to roll away from where I am...but I can't. I just can't stop throwing up.
"Josh!"
Jenna—
Hands on my head. And then I'm panting, and I'm crying. My throat hurts. And then I'm dry heaving again. Can't hold my head up.
Ezra.
"I want Ezra,” I choke. More dry heaving. My chest aches. I can't see straight. "Jenna?"
"Josh, I'm kind of scared now." Her fingers on my eyelids, blurry living room and stinging throat. "Josh, are you okay?"
I can't stop dry heaving. Shaking. I can tell by how I'm weak and dizzy that it just...hit too hard.
Need to...tell her.
Will wear off.
Just can't stop...dry heaving. I feel a pass out coming like it did...one other time. My body powering down. Flickering. Shaking.
The last thought I have is: Maybe Carl will tell Ezra.
I know as soon as my bleary eyes focus on my mom's face that I fucked up. Pretty bad, from what it looks like.
Her mouth opens and her eyes stretch open wider, and she's standing by my bed. Hospital bed.
I look at her, feeling sick, my eyes sore as fuck as I shift my gaze to the green curtain.
"Oh, Josh." My mom sighs. Her makeup is smeared and her face is anguished as she leans over the plastic railing. "You scared us half to death."
I look around for Carl, finding him in a chair near the foot of my bed. He looks tired. Unhappy.
I look down at myself. Thick white blanket. Tube for oxygen taped to my fucking face. I feel...sapped. Like I couldn't even lift my arm if I tried. My stomach hurts bad and my throat feels so raw. I swallow, and the pain is so bad, tears well up in my eyes.