A Piece of Heaven (Allendale Four 1)

Anderson stopped and looked down at me with eyes as green and wobbly as lime Jell-O and lips way too pretty for a boy.

“Heaven?” His voice was a million miles away. Were we under water? “I really don’t hate you.”

The way he said it was sweet. And earnest. And totally genuine. Which was perfect. There was really only one thing I could do in a situation like this.

I was going to do it. I was going to tell him how I felt, except the instant I opened my mouth all the nerves and alcohol and drama came up in one swift wave.

I puked.

All over Anderson Thompson’s feet.

Chapter 11

Things I don’t remember from that night (but were relayed to me the next morning by Oliver):

? Puking all over the front porch of the house.

? Threatening to punch Spencer in the face (and taking a swing and missing)

? Jackson carrying me to the car.

? Anderson washing his shoes off with a hose.

? Anderson pulling the car over so I could puke again and falling out of the still-moving car on my face.

? Asking Anderson if he knew his eyes were the same color as lime Jell-O. (No, apparently he did not know this.)

? Oliver and Jackson sneaking me up to my room so my mom didn’t catch me.

“I did not fall out of the car.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Oliver came back over around noon to check on me after my mom left for work. He found me moaning on the bed, eyes closed, willing myself not to get sick again. I watched as he got off the bed, closed my open laptop and plucked a hand mirror off my dresser. I grimaced when he held it up. Ouch. Road rash.

I gently touched the side of my face, feeling the scrape. “Why did you let me do that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Take this.” He handed me a bottle of water and some pills. I swallowed both and prayed that neither came back up.

“Well, that was embarrassing.” I looked for Oliver to agree but he had a weird expression on his face. “What?’

“Anything else?”

“Not that I saw, but really once you started hurling I tried to get out of the way.”

“Are you sure?” Oliver looked wary. I thought about my night. Talking to Jackson,

swinging on the porch, going to the bathroom, Spencer, Anderson, puke. It was all there; fuzzy, but there.

“Yeah, babe, I promise.”

I raised an eyebrow. I liked it when he called me babe.

I leaned against the headboard. “Tell me what else I missed after I puked on Anderson’s shoes. Exactly how mad was he?”

“He wasn’t that mad. Promise.”