Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4)

Whatever. Mom told me he’s not my problem. She keeps telling me Nick has issues he’s working out and there’s nothing I can do.

My

mood does a one-eighty like only a teenager’s can. I quickly type out a response.

Me – Yes. Pick me up?

Em – Be at yours in five

Good. I need to get out of here. My little brothers have lacrosse today and Mom picks them up on her way home from work. Hanging around the house, waiting for my bipolar brother to get his act together and stop being so selfish, has gotten old. Anger surges inside me, directed at Nick for making me feel helpless. A heartbeat later, guilt takes over for thinking badly about my brother. He didn’t ask for mental illness, didn’t ask to be tormented by his own mind.

A horn blaring from my driveway shakes me out of my funk. I grab my wallet from my bag and my phone from the countertop. Biting my lip, I take one last look around the kitchen, wondering if I should just wait here for Nick to get home, or at least until my mom texts me back.

The thought of sitting here alone yet another long afternoon—worrying about my brother, waiting on my brother—makes me nauseous. I shake my head and slam the door shut, locking it behind me.

Nick will just have to take care of himself today. For once, I’m putting myself first and acting like the fifteen-year-old girl that I am. I’ve missed out on so much already, I’m going to take advantage of a rare day of doing what I want.

I trot out to Emily’s banged up Honda Civic and climb in. She squeals and cranks up the radio, singing along to a popular song as she pulls out of my driveway. As the car turns the corner, I glance back at my house, wondering if I’m doing the right thing.

“Ooooohhhh, I love this one!” Emily elbows me, laughing. “Sing with me, Abby!”

The house disappears from view and I force the nagging thoughts out of my mind, determined to have fun. We sing at the top of our lungs, windows down, all the way to the mall. By the time Emily parks the car, I’m honestly enjoying myself for the first time in a long time.

Feeling normal shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. It really is.

Hawke

“Just take one, Hawke. We’re all doing it.” Lila purrs, rubbing against my side as she holds out her palm, a small packet of white powder balanced in the center.

“C’mon, man! It’s no big deal. It’s just ecstasy.” Truman Briggs, world’s biggest douchebag and the son of the head of a major film studio, is egging me on. He snatches the packet off Lila’s hand, opens it up, and dumps the contents under his tongue. After a few seconds, he grins and opens his mouth, showing everyone the powder is gone.

“I’ve done X before, asshole.” I glare at Briggs who is shirtless, wearing only a low-slung pair of board shorts. It kills me not to roll my eyes. The dude lives to show off his six-pack.

Lila produces a second packet, holding it out for me to take. I glance around, a half-dozen faces I recognize from school waiting impatiently for me to take the drug.

Fuck! Why the hell not? I’m supposed to be cool, don’t really give a shit about these people, and despise hanging out with them. If taking a hit of ecstasy will give me a break from feeling surrounded by douchebaggery all the time, I’m in. Besides, my parents probably wouldn’t even care. It’s only X, not heroin.

I take the packet, putting on my cocky face. Six sets of eyes watch as I peel open the end and dump the powder under my tongue without hesitation. They laugh when I screw up my face at the bitter, yet somehow sour, taste.

“Yeah,” Briggs says, elbowing me in the ribs hard enough that it’ll probably leave a bruise. I stifle the urge to plow my fist into his nose. “Tastes worse every fucking time. But damn...” He closes his eyes and tilts his head up to the sun, a look of total bliss on his face. “It’s so worth it, man.”

Lila opens her own packet, taking it the same way. The others all grab one, copying her movements. They laugh and shove each other playfully while I stuff my hand into my pocket, finding Hannah’s stone so I won’t have to share any more “bro-hugs” with these idiots. Lila grabs me, dragging me across the sand to the edge of the volleyball court.

Music is playing and my classmates are laughing and joking around with each other. What would it feel like to be with people I genuinely like? I mean, there are a few people here who are cool, but most are like Lila. As fake as ninety percent of the perfect bodies in Hollywood.

After an hour of chatting inanely and concentrating on not running away screaming, I get a second wind. Suddenly, sitting on the sidelines talking, watching everyone have a great time seems stupid. Joining is a much better idea. Briggs is dancing with Harper, a stunning redhead whose dad is a big time actor. They’re grinding together sensually, eyes locked, bodies slick with sweat.

I lick my lips, realizing how dry my mouth is. The sun is still a good ways from the horizon and it’s fucking hot out.

“Here.” Lila appears, pressing a bottle of water in my hand. “Drink.”

I chug back half the bottle. Lila stares at me, taking the water back without breaking eye contact. She wraps her full lips around the opening and takes a drink, her tongue swiping over her mouth when she’s done.

Jesus. My jeans are suddenly really tight. The outline of my dick would be obvious to anyone who looks. Despite the fact that my dick should never get hard in front of Lila, I can’t seem to be bothered to care. In fact, when I look at Lila, I realize she’s pretty fucking gorgeous.

Why do I hate her again?

Needing… something, I take the bottle out of Lila’s hand and finish the rest, still meeting her heated gaze. I toss the empty container to the sand and grip her tiny waist. With a quick tug, I pull her up against my crotch and she gasps.