“I agree with you,” she says, “but that’s her reasoning. She’s always held that against you, and she thinks that you look down on her for partying.”
I sigh. “I don’t look down on her. Some of the stuff that she does or did make me sad, but it’s her choice.”
Bailey shakes her head. “I don’t think that she knows about your aunt.”
“Not many people do.” I keep that story close to my chest for that reason. It’s deeply personal, and I don’t want my friends to think they can’t do things like drink around me. Just because I choose not to do something doesn’t mean that they can’t.
But that night, at that party, I could see that it was bad. That boy’s skin was turning grey, and he needed a hospital. I had to call the ambulance, or he was going to die. I knew it.
Taylor didn’t want me to. She begged me not to call the ambulance because her parents were out of town for the weekend, and if the ambulance came, then they would know. I called the ambulance anyway, and I don’t regret it. I should have done it sooner than I did.
I barely knew the kid. I think his name was John. I brought him flowers just so I could make sure that he was okay and going to live. I don’t care that he will never know that it was me, that wasn’t the point. Marcy was already gone, and at least I could save one person.
“In a way,” I say, “that night kind of solidified that I wanted to go into nutrition. I’d had the idea, but not the form of it. And everything I saw that night made me realize that people just don’t know what that will do to them. They don’t have a clue.”
“It makes sense,” Bailey says. “And I was actually wondering about that, dating Malcolm. He’s head of the biggest party house at the school. I was wondering if you’d changed your mind or something. Doesn’t it bother you?”
I think about it for a second. “I was worried about it at first,” I admit. “But I’ve never seen Malcolm drink, even if the other guys in the house do. Not once. And we usually hide away together during the parties.”
“Lucky you,” Bailey laughs.
“Yes, I would agree with you there.”
“Why were you even at that party? I never asked. Not really your scene.” Bailey says, taking a sip of water.
I roll my eyes. “I was there with Mike. That was the night I realized we really weren’t compatible.”
Bailey smirks. “I mean, we knew before that.”
“Yeah, but it was…really driven home that night.”
Our food is delivered, and we dig in, conversation lapsing in the face of amazing food. “And you’re still cool with Taylor?” I ask.
“Mostly,” she says with a shrug. “We don’t hang out that much anymore. She’s constantly with Melody and the other Tri Deltas. Practically already a part of the sorority.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m really sorry, Juno. I thought you knew and were trying to make it work. There’s no reason for the three of us to hang out together if she’s just hating you.”
“I don’t want to make it weird for you.”
She makes a dismissive noise. “It’s going to sound brutal, but I really don’t care that much. If I’m going to preserve one of the friendships, then it’s going to be yours.”
I laugh. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And that’s the way it goes. We catch up on all the things that we’ve missed while we’ve been buried in school, and she even manages to get more details out of me about Malcolm. But I don’t tell her about the way our relationship works. I’m not even ready to face that yet, let alone tell it to anyone. Even if that person is Bailey.
When we’re finished, I feel good. I’ve loved catching up with her, and we promise that we’re not going to let so much time pass again before hanging out.
Granite House is dark when I arrive. Which is strange. It’s not that late and it’s a Saturday night. Not only is it dark, it’s silent. Something is wrong. My gut knows it instantly. There’s still nothing on my phone from Malcolm, and this has something to do with it. What the hell is going on?
I enter the house and look around, but just like the outside, there’s no signs of life. A deep kind of terror and panic crawl up my throat. Did something bad happen? I need to talk to Mal, and I need him to tell me what’s happening and tell me that whatever it is is going to be fine. This isn’t nearly funny anymore.
Pulling out my phone, I call Malcolm, and I jump when his phone rings behind me. Down the hall. “Malcolm.”
I find him sitting on the stairs with a phone in his hand. There’s a glass bottle beside him, and when he speaks his voice is low and quiet like I’ve never heard before. “Here I am,” he says. “You found me.”