Page 81 of Riot Reunion
“Bury your head in the sand?” Carrie suggests. “What happened to talking to Pax?”
“Oh, we talked all right. He asked me if I wanted him fucking other girls, and when I said no, I didn’t want that, he took that to mean that I was agreeing to marry him—”
Carrie locks eyes with me; I can tell by the surprise on her face that this is the first time she’s heard the word ‘marriage’ and the name ‘Pax Davis’ in the same sentence before. “Excuseme?Whatnow?”
“Yeah, what the hell? Pax wants to marry you? Pshhh. That’scrazy,” I say, poking the fire some more.
“Elodie Stillwater!” Presley cries.
“What?”
Both of them stare at me incredulously. Presley shuffles closer to the edge of the sofa cushion she sits on. “What do you know about this?”
“Nothing, I swear. I—” Fuck, I can’t lie to them. I just don’t have it in me. “Pax told Dash and Wren that he was going to ask you right after graduation. He made you a ring and everything. He asked your dad for permission that first time you took him over there for dinner, and your dad said no. He said he wouldn’t give his blessing unless he waited a year to ask you.” It comes out in one long breath, the words running together like too much ink on a page. It feels so good to get it off my chest. I hated knowing that Pax was going to ask Pres something so important when she didn’t. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I feel like I can breathe again.
“So?” I ask excitedly. “Did you say yes?” It’s only after I’ve asked this question that I realize that Presley is aghast.
“My fatherrefusedto give him permission?”
“Oh. Uh…shit.”
“Why would hedothat?”
“I think it had something to do with…you guys not knowing each other long enough…and…”
“I’m going to kill him.” Wrapped up in her blanket, Presley lurches to her feet, rage flashing across her face. She steps just three steps toward the chair her clothes are draped across, drying by the fire, and something terrible rips across her features, chasing her anger away. I know at once that it’s fear.
“Pres? Are you alright?”
“I—” Out of nowhere, she doubles over, crying out in pain. “Oh! Oh my god. Something…” She winces, screwing her eyes shut, clutching at her belly. “Something isn’t right...” she grinds out. “My stomach. Holy shit.” She drops to her knees before either Carrie or I can get to her, going down hard on the rug.
“Presley!” Carrie flies from the couch. I rush from my vantage point by the fire. We get to her at the same time, each taking an arm, trying to get our friend to her feet. It isn’t easy at all; Pres curls tight into a ball, her arms and legs rigid, her back curved, refusing to uncurl so we can help her walk back to the couch. Instead, we half lift, half drag her back until we can set her down on the cushions.
It’s then that Carrie and I notice the blood.
A river of it, an arterial red so dark that it almost looks black, running down the insides of Presley’s legs. Carrie stares at me, eyes rimmed with disbelief, worry manifesting on her face as I imagine it manifests on mine at the same time.
“That is not good,” Carrie whispers. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“Oh god! Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.” Pres holds her stomach, panicked hands fluttering against her sides. “I need Pax. Something’s wrong,” she pants. “I feel…really weird. Ahh, God. My shoulder! I—” Before she can say anything else, she rocks forward and throws up, heaving again and again, vomit splattering onto the rug. Between ragged breaths, she moans, shifting between holding her shoulder and then her stomach, and still the river of blood flows down her legs. A pool of red stains the white couch, growing outward by the second.
“What the fuck’s happening?” Carrie’s hands tremble as she runs them over Presley’s back and shoulders. “What should we DO!”
I would love to have an answer for her. I wouldloveto know what to do, but shock has me in its grasp. I can’t think straight. All I can see is the blood. All I can hear are Presley’s agonized groans. All I can smell is the puddle of vomit on the rug before me, and the coppery tang of Presley’s life force draining out of her. How is this happening? What the fuck is happening?
“Elodie! ELODIE! We have to do something!”
“I want…Pax,” Presley mutters weakly. I thought that her face had regained some color not fifteen minutes ago, but now Pres’s skin bears the sallow hue of death. Her lips are tinged blue, for fuck’s sake. Her eyes roll in her head like those of a terrified horse as she sags back onto the couch, her arms and legs finally loosening enough for her to recline. “Go…and find…him. Please,” she whispers.
“We’re not leaving you,” I tell her.
Carrie lets out a choked, gasping sob. “You should go,” she urges. “One of us should. We need to get help. And I can’t…” Carrie shakes her head. “Please, Elodie. You should go. Ican’tleave her.”
I only showed up at Wolf Hall for the last year of my secondary school education. Carrie and Presley are family to me, and I know they feel the same way about me. But these two girls were best friends long before I showed up. For years they looked out for one another and had each other’s backs. There’s no room for jealousy here and no need for it besides. My friends need me to go and get help, so that is what I’m going to do.
27
WREN
