Page 7 of Saving Barrette

She’s wearing a sweatshirt now, and it’s not mine. It’s another guy’s, and I want to rip it from her delicate body and toss it into the fire where it belongs. She should be wearing mine, and that should be my body she’s clinging to.

I breathe in through my nose. It doesn’t help. Do you hear my heartbeat? I don’t over my breathing, but I know it’s probably racing. Do you notice the way my throat tightens every time I attempt to swallow my beer? They’re all signs that I’m losing it. I’m hanging on by a thread and if I don’t leave, I’m going to cause a scene.

I stand, and I have no idea what I’m going to do next. Knowing I can’t be here with Barrette in the arms of someone else, I turn to leave.

“Where are you going?” Roman asks, one arm around a girl just as gone as him, and the other holding beer by the neck.

The smoke from the fire shifts and turns in my direction. I squint at the burn, my eyes lifting to hers. Barrette catches my gaze and then quickly looks away toward the boy who doesn’t matter. My entire body fights with the need to rip his arm from her. Running my fingers through my hair, I shrug. “Leavin’.” My voice doesn’t hold as much conviction as I intend for it. I look over at Barrette with blank eyes.

She looks at me for a moment and then moves to the one she has her arms around.

Roman attempts to hand me another beer. “No, stay. Get shitfaced with us.”

Get shitfaced? There’s more to life than getting drunk and forgetting your problems.

Rage festers inside me. My jaw clenches and I swallow, pushing the beer bottle away. I pick at the rough skin around my thumb to avoid eye contact. “Nah, I’m good.”

And then I leave. If I stay, I’m going to rip that douchebag’s arm off her and cause a huge scene. One I promised my dad I wouldn’t cause this time.

He left. I think, no, I know it’s what he does.

Cadence shifts toward me, glaring at Xander and shoving his shoulder as he’s trying to kiss my neck. “Get off her. You’re mauling her like a damn bear.” Her eyes lift to the distance where Asa is walking up the hill toward the house. “Where’s A going?”

I twist on Xander’s lap. Setting my cup beside me, I shrug because I don’t know. “I don’t care,” I mumble, knowing it’s far from the truth. I want to chase after him, tell him I’m sorry for ignoring him, but something stops me.

I don’t move and instead, look down at my drink at my feet in the dirt. It’s beer and I hate the taste but love the feeling it gives in return. I’m on Xander’s lap, my arm around his shoulders. I’ve known Xander since he was three and he used to eat his boogers. He’s a year older and we really don’t hang out. I’ve never liked him so why I’m on his lap is probably a testament to Cadence’s claim that I’ve had too much to drink.

Unable to make sense of my actions, I down the beer and retrieve another one.

Cadence notices and reaches out for my hand, tugging me up. I smile and wrap my arms around her shoulders. I pull back and smash my face to hers. “You’re pretty.”

“And you’re drunk.” Cadence tries to pull me toward her, her voice rising. “C’mon, girl. It’s time for a change of scenery.”

I resist and sit back down on Xander’s lap. “I’m good here, thanks.”

“Seriously, B.” She motions for me to get up and dangles her keys in my face. “It’s time to go. Now. I’m not leaving you here with these jerks.”

It’s one of those moments when my vision isn’t quite clear, more than likely from the alcohol and the amount of sun I’ve gotten. I’ve spent the entire day drinking, smoking, and avoiding. It’s come down to this and I don’t think I’m ready to leave. Someone puts their hand on my knee. I think it’s Xander, but it’s not. It’s some other guy I don’t know. I look down at it, then to Cadence who’s still talking.

“You know I need to get home. After last time, my parents are watching me like a hawk. So c’mon. Get up.”

I laugh, and it comes out as a childlike giggle. I’ve never been a mature drunk. “That sounds like ayouproblem. Go home so you don’t get in trouble. I’ll find my own way home.”

Xander glares at her, noticing the tension between us. “Jesus, you’re not her goddamn mother.” He rolls his eyes, his lips closing on a cigarette. “Back off.”

With the glow from the fire behind her, anger works its way to Cadence’s voice. “I don’t like leaving you like this. You’re drunk.”

My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I know it’s wrong, but I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. “I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” She tries to sound stern but fails miserably.

Her words bounce right off me as anger takes over. “No, I’m not.”

Roman approaches us, pulling the black sweatshirt in his hand over his shoulders, hood up. He smiles at me, his arm around Cadence. “Relax. She’s fine here. I’ll make sure she gets home.”

“Yeah, sure you will,” she mocks, glancing over me momentarily at the guys surrounding me, and then back to me. “Text me when you get home.”

I attempt to nod, but it feels like I’ve just taken Nyquil and its setting in, my actions, my words, slower. I urge myself to get up and walk away.

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