Page 112 of The Apple Tree

“I gotta go.” I turned.

“Eve, stop.”

“I’d better help my mom with dinner.”

“Eve—”

“Feel better,MisterCollins.” I fought to keep my emotions in check. I ran out the door and straight home as soon as I got my shoes on.

Before I reached the front door, I stopped and stared at the milk box. Then I removed the planter, grabbed a bottle of vodka, hid it in my sweatshirt, and headed inside.

“Eve?” Mom called my name from the kitchen.

“Huh?” I said, halfway up the stairs.

“Want to help me with dinner?”

“Uh, I’m feeling a little unwell. Menstrual cramps. I want to lie down,” I said.

“Okay, honey. We’ll be taking the food to Kyle’s house. Are you going to join us?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“If you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.”

I continued to my room and locked the door behind me before screwing off the cap to the bottle and taking several big gulps.

I told him I wouldn’t be anyone’s regret.

“Eve, wake up.”Gabby patted my cheek a half dozen times.

I grumbled, rolling to my side and curling into a ball.

“Wake up before Mom and Dad come home. Why are you drinking tonight?”

“I was a bad”—I rolled onto my stomach and mumbled with my face in the pillow—“not bad. Poor. I was a poor decision.”

“I can’t hear you.” She shoved my shoulder to roll me onto my back. “Josh wants you to stay the night. He’s been asking for you. But you can’t go over there now. What’s your problem?”

Peeling my eyes open, I tried to focus on Gabby’s grumpy face. “He called me a poor decision.”

She frowned. “Well, you probably are. If you were a good decision, you wouldn’t have to keep your relationship a secret. And you wouldn’t be drunk.”

My face soured. “That’s … you’re just jealous and mean.”

“I won't be jealous when Dad kicks you out of the house.” She wedged herself next to me on the bed.

We stared at the ceiling.

“They’re going to find out you got plastered.”

“Pfft. I’m not plastered. I’m just really, really very,” I giggled, “a lot relaxed. And I think,” I waggled my finger at the ceiling, “it will take more than one beer to get me on my knees. Ya know?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” I dropped my hand to my stomach and closed my eyes. “I just thought he liked me. And he’d fight for my honor like Peter Cetera.”

Gabby snorted. “What are you talking about?”

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