The Call [part 2 of 3]
a short story by Kirsten Stillman (Grade 12)
She knocked tentatively, then opened the door and walked in. An overpowering smell that both reeked and turned her stomach at the same time hit her and made her gag. She put her hand over her mouth and nose and picked her way past the drunk and high bodies lying passed out all over the floor. She searched as quickly as she could for Matt.
She scanned every face of her classmates. They were passed out, but who know for how long. She had heard stories of incidents that happened during these parties. The ending usually involved a hospital stay. She practically held her breath as she tiptoed around the drooling bodies. She peeked into a room and grimaced. It was a sight that no one should ever see, much less describe. She tiptoed down the hallway, careful not to trip over the bodies strewn haphazardly across the floor. Her nerves seemed frayed and stretched tight as she listened for any sound that would indicate someone stirring into consciousness.
Her anxiety grew with each moment that passed. Where was Matt and why had he called her? She tried to still her pounding heart and listened, standing still for a moment despite her urge to run out of the house. It was only then that she heard a noise that made her gag. She swallowed convulsively and followed the noise warily to the bathroom. It was there that she found Matt, hunched over the toilet.
She composed herself and reached out to steady him as he retched. Her stomach churned and threatened to revolt. She concentrated on helping and when Matt was done, wiped his face off as best she could, though there was no help for his pale color. She slung his arm over her shoulders and tried to support him as he staggered towards the door with her, tripping over bodies as he went.
She prayed fervently that the unconscious bodies would stay were they were until she left. She knew how mean some of her classmates could get when they were drunk. She shuddered at the thought of confronting a violent classmate with hardly anything to protect herself with. She only had a very basic knowledge of self-defense that her uncle had taught her. She was sure it wouldn’t do much good with a mean drunk.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she made it out the front door with Matt still stumbling along with her. She somehow managed to get him into the passenger seat of her car, then drove away from Pat’s house with a heartfelt prayer of thanks whispered on her lips.
She drove in silence for a small amount of time before stopping the car back at her house. She turned the car off and turned to face a pale, but much better-looking, Matt. He sighed and cautiously looked at her. She said nothing, even though she had told him so much more only weeks ago about his behavior. She studied his face for a moment, then got out of the car.
“Come on,” she said before she closed her car door.
“Where are we going?” He asked cautiously.
“Inside to get you cleaned up. Then we are going to go eat food made by the best cook in the world.”
He followed her silently into her house, where she took an extra toothbrush, which was luckily still packaged, and handed it to him with toothpaste and pointed to the bathroom. He ducked his head and went into the bathroom, while Jasmine went into her older brother’s room to raid his closet for clean clothes.
Ten minutes later, both were back in her car and headed for her aunt’s house. Neither of them mentioned what had happened earlier. Matt was greeted enthusiastically by her aunt and uncle, as well as by her mom, dad, and older brother. Her older brother stealthily evaluated Matt’s outfit, then raised an inquiring eyebrow at Jasmine, who only raised an eyebrow in reply.
The evening was filled with laughter and good spirit. Jasmine relaxed when Matt seemed to take to the company easily, as if there had not been a distancing of their friendship and he had been invited places with her the whole time.
It was only when the evening had ended and they were back in her car that Matt turned to look at her profile. Jasmine concentrated on the road, seeming not to notice.
“Jazz?” He finally broke the silence in the car.
“Hmm?”
“Why did you do it?”
[to be continued…]