Page 10 of Heartland
“Up you go.” I lean down even farther and take her hand. “Hit the bathroom and find your backpack. I’m walking you home.”
“My backpack?” she slurs. “That does sound familiar.” She sways a little as she turns her head to look around.
Uh-oh. I don’t know if she’s ever had anything stronger than the wine we drink at Thursday Dinner, the rotating party my family and hers share. “Bathroom is that way,” I say, pointing toward the kitchen.
“Right.” She toddles off.
I haul Rickie to his feet next. “What were you thinking?” I yell over Green Day’s heavy drum beat.
“I can’t hear you!”
Ugh. I tow Rickie toward the kitchen. “You can’t give Chastity rum! She doesn’t drink at all.”
“Everybody starts somewhere,” he says with a shrug.
“Not Chastity,” I insist. To say that she grew up sheltered is like saying that Mussolini was a little pushy. Chastity didn’t cut her hair until she was nineteen. Before then, she never even wore jeans or swore or used makeup.
“She’s fine, Dyl,” Rickie insists. “I would never hurt your friend. She had, like, three drinks.”
“What’s the problem?” Kaitlyn demands, a glass of wine in one hand and a corn chip in the other.
“Chastity got a little tipsy, and Dylan wants to call the paramedics.” Rickie rolls his eyes and leaves the kitchen.
“I didn’t say we needed the paramedics,” I grunt. “But I have to make sure she gets home safe.” I pat my pocket, finding my keys there. “Let me grab a jacket.”
“Wait, why?” Kaitlyn whines. “She’s a drunk college student. This town is full of them. She’ll either find her way home, or she’ll wake up on someone else’s floor. Just like anyone else.”
“She’snotjust like anyone else,” I point out. “I mean, every freshman gets drunk. But they go home to a roommate who makes sure they don’t die. And that’s you, right?”
Kaitlyn makes a face. “My drunk freshman days are long past.”
Right. That’s why it’s going to be me.
I go to the back hall and grab my jean jacket. Kaitlyn sips her wine and watches me. She’s already a junior. Her family shipped her to Moo U after some kind of scandal in New York City. That’s how she ended up in the dorms with Chastity.
I’m the same age as Kaitlyn but still officially a sophomore, since I started part time.
Chastity is actually the oldest of us all. At twenty-one, she’s a year older than I am. But running away from a cult steals your teen years.
“You’re making too big a deal of this,” Kaitlyn says, pointing toward the living room. “Look, she’s fine.”
I walk to where I can see through the doorway. And there’s Chastity, back from the bathroom already and dancing in a loose, crazy freeform way beside Rickie. Every third or fourth beat they bump hips and then laugh.
And now I’m smiling, because that is incredibly cute. Chastity isn’t one to let go very often. She’ll probably have a terrible hangover tomorrow. But right now she’s having fun.
The song ends, and she and Rickie stand there breathing hard. “How do you feel about pot?” Rickie asks, his hands on his hips.
“Never tried it!” Chastity replies.
And that’s my cue. “Another time,” I say hastily. “Did you find your backpack?”
“Yup!” she says.
“Jacket?” I prompt.
She shakes her head in an exaggerated way. “Didn’t wear one.”
“Can’t we take your truck?” Kaitlyn appears behind me. She’s wearing her jacket, so I guess she’s coming with us.
