Page 89 of Save Me

They explode with laughter again.

“I don’t want to know how you know what licking a tree tastes like,” Jude jokes.

I push the beer away to the middle of the table. “Help yourselves. I’m going to get myself a Coke.”

I slip off the bench, squeeze between two tables and down the narrow corridor to the bar. It’s even more crowded than before—after all, the Turf Tavern’s a tourist trap as well as a student hangout. It takes almost ten minutes to get the barman’s attention. I smile as he finally hands me a Coke and turn away.

At that moment, I spot Lydia. She’s pushing her way hastily through the throng to the loos and doesn’t seem to see me. Her cheeks are pale, and I see her hand shake as she pushes a man out of her way. Puzzled, I watch her vanish into the ladies’.

I guess she’s had too much to drink. But it’s not even eight. I shake my head and walk back to our table, where Jude and Lin are deep in conversation with some of the others we came here with. I plunge into the chat, sipping my drink occasionally. I keep squinting over to where Lydia was sitting, but she still hasn’t come back from the toilet. Thinking about it, she didn’t look well. Looked really bad, in fact.

Cautiously, I watch her friends. James and Wren are talking; Camille’s practically in Keshav’s lap, and whatever she’s whispering into his ear is making him smile. Opposite them, Alistair downs half his pint in one. His eyes are bitter, his brows frowning. He might be answering the question Wren just asked him, but hedoesn’t take his eyes off Camille and Keshav, who are flirting right in front of him. It’s bad enough that Keshav won’t admit to being with Alistair, but on top of that, he’s smooching with a girl in public, and that sinks him totally beneath respect in my eyes.

None of the boys seems to have noticed that Lydia hasn’t come back. I hesitate a moment but then excuse myself and stand up. It’s obvious that alcohol levels around here have risen in the last hour. People are yelling at each other so loudly it’s almost drowning out the music, and hardly anyone gets out of my way as I squeeze past. Once I’ve finally made it across the room, I sigh with relief. I head into the ladies’ loos and look around cautiously. There are several cubicles, and miraculously, all but one are open.

I hear a quiet sniff through the door. And then…a loud choking.

I knock hesitantly and then realize that it isn’t locked. It opens a little, but I don’t have the nerve to just walk in. “Lydia?”

“Leave me alone,” she croaks.

I remember the Monday after the party when she sat with me at lunch and apologized to me. She was nice to me, just because. Now I have the chance to repay that. “Can I do anything to help?” I ask quietly.

No answer. Instead, I hear Lydia gag, followed by an unappealing splashing sound. I hurry to the sinks, pull a few paper towels from the dispenser, and run them under the tap. Then I cough gently before holding them under the toilet door to Lydia. “Here.”

The towels vanish from my hand.

I crouch there, unsure what to do. I don’t want to leave Lydia on her own in this state, but I don’t know how to help her either.

The toilet flushes, and, after a while, the door opens a crack. I can see a tiny bit of Lydia’s face. It’s just not fair. Despite herwatery eyes and flushed cheeks, she still looks so pretty. I can see so much of her brother in her face.

But this is definitely neither the time nor the place for thinking about James.

“Should I get you a glass of water or something?”

“No, that’s OK. I just need a few minutes for the walls to stop spinning.” She leans her back against the wall. Then she shuts her eyes, and her head drops forward.

“Too much to drink?” I ask.

Lydia shakes her head almost imperceptibly. “I haven’t been drinking at all,” she whispers.

“Are you ill?” I try again. “There must be an emergency pharmacy around here somewhere. If you aren’t feeling better.”

Lydia doesn’t reply.

“Or…” I suggest hesitantly, “…is it nerves? Are you anxious about tomorrow?”

Now she does look at me. She looks kind of amused but deeply sad at the same time. “No,” she says. “It’s not nerves. I had both my interviews today, and they went fine.”

“That’s great,” I say cautiously, seeing that Lydia doesn’t look all that thrilled. On the contrary, suddenly her eyes fill with tears again. “Why aren’t you happy?”

She shrugs and lays a hand on her stomach. “It doesn’t matter how they went. I’m not going to study here.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to?”

Lydia gulps. “I do, actually.”

“So what’s the problem? If the interviews went well, then I’m sure you’ll get in.”

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