Page 70 of Save Us
Fuck James McCormack.
“If you’d rather go home…” I begin, yet again, but Ruby just rolls her eyes.
“I’m sticking with you all.” She squeezes my hand and pulls me over to the stairs.
I ignore people’s funny looks. We’re not the most popular at Eastview. We’ve thumped their lacrosse team more than once, and Alistair is known as the guy who assaulted McCormack, twice—it didn’t end well either time. As we walk upstairs, I hear someone make some stupid remark to him, and glance around just in time to see Kesh shoulder away a guy who’d got in Alistair’s face.
“Don’t take the bait,” Wren says. He’s walking ahead of Ruby and me and searching for Cyril.
The music is thumping through the whole entrance hall, droning house beats making the chandelier clink and my skull throb. I almost wish I could start drinking too, but that’s out of the question. I need to keep a clear head.
“Where the hell can he be?” Wren shouts back at me.
I shake my head. We’re in McCormack’s parents’ house, and I vaguely recall coming here once before. The spiral staircase and ugly paintings of fruit baskets and antique vases look dimly familiar. But back then, I was so wasted that I absolutely don’t remember my way around.
We head up the last few steps and down the landing toward some double doors. Wren’s shoulders stiffen, and as I peer into the room, I see why.
There, standing on a table amid the wreckage of a poker game, is Cyril. He’s slurring along to the song as it blares out. In his hand is half a glass of whisky, but more of it spills with his every movement. There’s a girl dancing on the table too, who tells him to down it. He tilts his head back and drains the glass—and the next moment, he hurls it across the room. It shatters against the wall, not that it seems to faze anyone. Far from it. They all cheer. Cyril laughs and bows, wobbles and clings on to the girl.
“I can’t believe I was worried about him,” Wren says, shaking his head.
“If you ask me, that only shows you were right to be,” replies Alistair, who’s joined us. “The way he’s acting reminds me of James in December.”
A remark that makes my stomach clench. “We have to get him out of here,” I yell to them over the music. I exchange glances with the boys, then turn to Ruby. “Wait here a moment, yeah? We’ll get him and get out.”
Ruby’s eyes are worried as she glances from me over to Cyril, who is lurching around on the table and now calling loudly for a new drink. I kiss her on the forehead, then turn, walk across the room, and jump up onto the table.
At the sight of me, Cyril frowns. His eyes are red, and I can’t tell if that’s because he’s out of his skull, or because he’s been crying. He looks even more serious as he spots the others. Then he swallows hard.
The girl he was dancing with has stopped. She seems to notice his sudden change of mood and sighs as she lets us help her down.Meanwhile, Cyril and I just look at each other. I try to find the rage I’ve been feeling for him in the last couple of weeks, but to my surprise, it’s not there. Not when I can see how shit he looks right now.
“What’re you doing here?” he slurs after a while.
I swallow. “We’re here to collect you.”
Cyril sways one way, then the other, not taking his now-glassy eyes off me.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the door. Then I grab his arm while Wren and I help him down from the table. A few people around us start booing; then out of the corner of my eye, I see someone else take Cyril’s place on the table, and everyone cheers him on to start drinking.
We try to hold Cyril up—Wren on his left, me on his right—but he keeps slumping.
“Fuck’s sake, Cy,” Wren groans. “Can’t you help us out here?”
Cy mumbles something, but I’m only half listening. At that moment, we reach the doors, and Ruby isn’t there.
I swear under my breath and look round at Alistair and Kesh, who are also staring at the same spot Ruby was just at.
“Where is she?” asks Alistair.
Kesh, the tallest of us, looks around. His expression darkens, and I know he’s seen her.
“She’s on the balcony. With McCormack,” he adds, but I’m already moving. I put Cyril’s arm around Kesh’s shoulders and start fighting my way through.
“Beaufort!” says McCormack as he sees me. He’s leaning one hand on the banister next to Ruby. There’s a tumbler in the other hand, and he toasts me with it. “How nice of you boys to put in an appearance. I don’t quite remember having invited youthough.” His tone is polite, almost like he’s greeting an old friend, when we all know that the exact opposite is true.
“I see you’re looking after that arse,” he continues, pulling a revolted face while looking Cyril over from head to toe. “The loser threw up all over my loo.”
I really can’t let him wind me up. Really. But then he lifts a hand to touch Ruby’s hip. “And what bringsyouhere?”
