“You’re smashed, Pris,” Jaime says, laughing. And singing, “Ale, Alejandro, Ale, Alejandro...”
I think I hear Alex snort. And mumble something under his breath.
We arrive at my parents’ front door; Alex rings the bell before taking his keys out of his pocket and opening it. He calls hello to check if anyone is home and my mom greets him back from the kitchen.
“Are you staying for lunch?” she asks him—or rather, yells.
“Yes, but I’m going to get Priscila to bed!”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
They keep shouting. Mom must be busy with something because she doesn’t come out to see us.
“Breakfast didn’t go down well with her!” he yells. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room,” he says to me, leading me to the stairs.
“What about me?”
Alex doesn’t bother answering my friend.
We get upstairs and he helps me into my bed; the whole room is spinning around. I’m not aware of taking my clothes off, I just recall my last thoughts before I fall asleep:
“Ale, Alejandro. Ale, Alejandro.”
Ale, Alejandro. Ale, Alejandro....
Pristy the Squirrel: During a dart game.