Raven (Orphans 4)

"If someone doesn't take us home, my uncle will make a lot of trouble for you, especially with all this drinking going on."

She smirked. "Take them home, Brad. I don't want to get into trouble. They're too young to be here, anyway. It was a stupid idea."

"I'll say it was," Jimmy piped up from behind us. "Come on," I urged Jennifer, and we walked to the front door.

"Let's get moving," Brad said angrily. "I don't want to miss the fun."

"Yes, we'd hate to have you miss any of the fun. Some fun," I muttered, and led Jennifer to his car. She sprawled out in the backseat.

"She better not throw up in my car," Brad said. "You really didn't want to bring her here. Why did you?"

"I did it as a favor for Jimmy so you would come. I guess you didn't hit it off, huh?" he said, smiling. "That's okay, though, Jennifer and I had fun." Jennifer giggled from the backseat.

"No," I said, "we didn't hit it off."

"A lot of girls want to go out with Jimmy," he said as if I had lost a golden opportunity.

"Here's one who doesn't," I said.

He shook his head. "Man, where are you from?" he asked.

Yes, where am I from? I wondered, and then I thought, it doesn't matter where I'm from. It's where I'm going that matters.

7 The Party's Over

It was raining harder when we arrived home. Brad wouldn't help me with Jennifer. He just sat there waiting impatiently while I struggled to get her out of the car. She didn't even seem to realize we were getting soaked, because she wouldn't or couldn't move quickly. I practically carried her from Brad's car to the house. He shot off as soon as we were out of the automobile. By the time we reached the door, both of us were soaked. I had hoped to sneak Jennifer in and up to her room, but the moment I opened the front door, Uncle Reuben sprang from his recliner in the living room and appeared in the hallway. His eyes bulged when he saw Jennifer. She was pale, her clothes wet and disheveled, her hair messed with strands sticking to her forehead, and her eyes half closed. She leaned on me for support, and I guided her into the house.

"What the hell happened to her? What's wrong?" he demanded. "Is she sick?"

She lifted her eyes and looked at him

pathetically for a moment and then suddenly burst out laughing and crying at the same time.

He turned to me.

"What's going on here?"

"She drank some vodka at the party," I said. I had made up my mind I wouldn't lie to protect her.

"What? Drank some . . . Clara!" he screamed. Aunt Clara came rushing out of the bedroom and appeared at the top of the stairway. She wore only her nightgown. "What is it, Reuben?"

"Look at your daughter," he declared, extending his arms toward Jennifer.

She looked even more ridiculous wearing an idiotic smile and clinging to my arm. Her eyes rolled, and she pressed her hands to her stomach. "Uh-oh. I don't feel so good," she moaned.

Uncle Reuben turned to me again. "I thought you said the party was chaperoned."

"I didn't say anything. That was Jennifer," I said.

He curled his thick, dark eyebrows toward each other and narrowed his eyes into slits of suspicion. "Who gave her the vodka?"

"I'm sick, Daddy. Let me go upstairs," she pleaded.

"Oh, dear, dear," Aunt Clara cried, coming down the stairs quickly. She took Jennifer's other arm. We started toward the stairway, but Uncle Reuben reached out with his large hands and grasped my shoulders, pulling me away and toward him. He nearly lifted me off the floor as he brought his nose closer to my face and sniffed.

"You drank something, too," he accused.

"Just half a glass of beer," I said.