Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (14 page)

I
wiped the tears that had formed in my eyes away and shrugged, unable to explain
my amusement.

Tegan
frowned and grabbed me by the shoulders. She later told me I’d been teetering
back and forth in a worrisome manner.

When
Tierney showed up again—apparently she’d migrated to another room for some more
Jesse watching—she looked worried too. She grabbed my cup from my hand just as
I was about to drop it.

“It
tastes really yummy,” I assured her through a fit of giggles as I reached for
the cup, wanting another sip.

Frowning,
Tierney lifted it to her nose and sniffed. Then she sighed, “The punch is
spiked. How many cups have you had, Silly?”

My
thoughts were sluggish as I tried to remember. “That’s just my third,” I
finally said, grabbing for the cup and pouting when Tierney held it out of my
reach.

“I
think you’ve had more than enough,” Tierney decided. “I’m surprised you’re
still standing.”

“I’m
standing?” I laughed. It was at that point Tegan suggested finding Luke so he
could take me home. I was completely unconcerned and had no desire to
leave—especially after I spotted Jackson through one of the doorways.

While
Tegan and Tierney went to look for Luke—after telling me to stay put, as if—I
made my way over to Jackson. He seemed extra tall all of a sudden, and I
giggled at the sight of his costume—a red and white striped long-sleeved shirt
with a matching hat paired with blue jeans and black shoes. The real kicker was
his black-rimmed circular glasses.

“Where’s
Waldo!” I exclaimed.

He
looked up at my shout and smiled as I staggered over to him, where he was
talking to some people.

“No,
wait,” I frowned. “You’re not Waldo. You’re Jackson.”

He
caught me by the shoulder before I could topple over. “Gravity still has it out
for you, I see.”

I
laughed hysterically and nodded. “Gravity hates me, and I don’t know why. What
did I ever do to it?”

Jackson
didn’t laugh, though. In fact, his gorgeous smile slid away and was replaced
with a furrow between his brows. “Are you alright, Silly?”

“Oh,
I’m fine,” I said airily. “Someone spiked the punch, but I don’t care. It sure
tasted grrrreat.” I said this last part in a Tony the Tiger voice, like he
would if he were talking about Frosted Flakes.

That
drew Jackson up short for a moment. “You mean you’re drunk?”

“So
it would seem,” I nodded, bobbing my head up and down more vigorously than
necessary. “But don’t tell the guidance counselor on me,” I giggled. “I didn’t
have sex with anyone to get it, I promise. I didn’t know it was spiked.”

The
people who Jackson had been talking to—I thought one of them was that Chris guy
that interrupted our conversation on my birthday—had been quietly observing up
until this point, but my pleading and declaration of there being no sex
exchanged resulted in a round of laughter, which I joined in on even though I
didn’t know why they thought it was so funny.

Even
though Jackson still looked concerned, a small smile played on his kissable
lips.  “Who did you come here with?”

“Luke.
My brother. His name is really Lucas, you know,” I answered conversationally. “I
hope I don’t puke on the welcome mat at home like he did. That was gross,” I
commented as I noticed that Jackson was still holding me upright by the
shoulder. My eyes glazed a bit at the sight of his long, pretty fingers.

“Well,
I think we’d better find Luke before that happens,” Jackson commented.

“No,
Tegan and Tierney are doing that,” I said, turning and pointing off in the
direction where I’d last seen them. I went to turn back toward Jackson, but the
sudden movement was just too much for my usually shoddy equilibrium and I
started to fall forward.

Evidently,
I blacked out. I couldn’t remember much of what happened after that, but Tegan
told me later I fell down on my knees and threw up in one of Jesse Millet’s
mom’s plants as well as on Jackson’s black shoe.

“Jackson
was really calm about it,” Tegan assured me. “He didn’t freak out or anything.
You really didn’t throw up that much either. I mean, it wasn’t like
The
Exorcist
style projectile vomiting by any means.”

I
suspected she was just trying to make me feel less mortified by the experience;
although I wasn’t sure that was actually possible given I’d thrown up on my
crush in front of a crowd of people.

Apparently,
Jackson helped Tegan usher me outside to wait while Tierney looked for Luke. I
vaguely remembered being shoved into the front seat of my brother’s car and him
saying, “If you throw up in here, I’ll kill you.”

I
fell asleep on the way home, and when we arrived, Luke shook me awake. I was
dizzy and tired and still a little loopy.

“Be
quiet,” he hissed, “and go straight upstairs to your room.”

Of course, when I couldn’t even
manage to get myself out of the car, that plan went awry. In the end, Luke
pulled me out of the car, wrapped an arm around my shoulder and walked my
dizzy, shaky and swaying self up the driveway.

In
the house, he cursed a litany of swear words I was sure would make a sailor
blush, and all but carried me up the stairs and deposited me on my bed.

“Are
you going to throw up again?” he asked, shaking me slightly to keep me coherent.

“If
you keep doing that, I will,” I muttered.

He
huffed, releasing me to fall back against the bed. “Just go to sleep.”

Stomach
queasy, I closed my eyes and passed out before my bedroom door clicked shut.

The
next morning I woke understanding exactly why people always said, “I’m never
drinking again” after a night of partying. Head pounding and insides
threatening to revolt and escape through my throat, I had absolutely no desire
to move from my bed.

This
all, of course, was before I’d even opened my eyes. When I did finally work up
the energy required to peel back my eyelids, I was immediately blinded by
sunlight filtering in through my window. Despite feeling like death warmed
over, I found this odd. I knew I’d closed the shades before changing clothes
last night, and I had no recollection of reopening them before I left.

“Morning
Sunshine.”

I
shrieked and, despite my lethargy, sat up quickly. The room spun a little, but
when it finally came into focus, I found my sister seated at the edge of my
bed.

“Damn,
Banshee,” Skylar winced, “chill out. It’s just me.”

“You
nearly gave me a heart attack,” I exclaimed, heart still pounding.

“Don’t
be so dramatic.” Skylar rolled her eyes, and I fell back against my pillows,
head pounding. “So, how are we feeling?”

Shielding
my eyes from the offending sun, I groaned, “Like shit. What time is it?”

“Seven,”
she answered. Then she held up a mug I hadn’t noticed before. “Drink this.
It’ll help.”

Sitting
back up, slower this time, I took the mug. I looked at the contents as I took a
whiff. It didn’t smell good, but Skylar was watching me expectantly, so I took
a sip. It was hot and burned my tongue, which took away from the less than
tasty flavor, but it felt good going down my dry throat.

“So,
first hangover?”

I
glanced at her and didn’t even have to ask how she knew. Luke had, obviously,
told her about the events of the night before, which from what I could remember
were absolutely mortifying.

I
nodded slightly, but it hurt my head, so I stopped. “Did Luke tell Mom and
Dad?” I croaked, sounding suspiciously like a frog. I suspected if I said
‘ribbit’ a frog would probably come hopping into the room looking for its
friend.

“No,
he said it was an accident,” Skylar shrugged.

“Spiked
punch,” I supplied, taking another sip from the mug.

“Yeah,”
Skylar grimaced, “word to the wise: don’t drink anything at a party you didn’t
bring yourself and never let it out of your sight. It’s hard to say what you’ll
end up drinking otherwise.”

“That
would have been good advice
before
the party,” I muttered.

“You’ll
know better next time,” she sighed. “Now you better get a move on it. I’m
leaving in thirty minutes, and you’ll want to at least eat some toast after you
finish that.” She nodded toward the mug.

Needless
to say, I was dead on my feet all day at school. Tegan, who gently and
reluctantly filled in some of the embarrassing blank spots in my memories of
the night before, kept hovering around as if she feared I might fall over and
not get back up. Somehow I managed to stay upright, but retaining any of the
knowledge the teachers tried to bestow upon me was a lost cause.

Blinking
was also a huge problem because more than once I nearly forgot to reopen my
eyes. My thoughts, when not focused on staying awake and upright, were centered
on going home and crawling into bed and possibly staying there for the next
week.

I
passed a few people in the hallway that shot me knowing looks. A few even
possibly looked worse than I felt, but when I spotted Jesse Millet in the hallway,
I wanted to melt into the wall. I was sure he probably had no idea who I was,
but I felt terrible for vomiting on his mother’s plant. Of course, not nearly
as bad as I felt about puking on Jackson’s shoe, but bad nonetheless.

I
worried I might have ruined Jackson’s shoe, but I wasn’t brave enough to go and
apologize. I thought I saw him once in the hallway, but I did my best to blend
in with the crowd. My day had been hideous enough without facing my puked upon
crush.

When
I finally made it home, I went straight to bed. I slept through dinner, and I
guessed that Skylar must have told our parents I wasn’t feeling well because
Mom came up later to check on me.

“I’m
just tired,” I assured her. I’d considered pretending to be asleep, but I
thought doing so would only cause worry.

She
smoothed my hair back away from my forehead, probably feeling for a fever. She
looked better rested than she had over the last few days, but she seemed wary.
It reminded me of my previous worry about the tension and arguments between her
and Dad.

“Well,
I saved you a plate of food,” she said, smiling softly. “I think you should
eat. It might make you feel better.”

I
had my doubts, but I acquiesced, promising to eat at some point in the evening.
But, then again, I’d skipped lunch because my stomach still felt unsettled, so
maybe Mom had a point.

After
Mom left my room, I laid in bed for a while longer. I tried to go back to
sleep, but my brain refused to cooperate. Finally, I drug myself out of bed and
downstairs where I heated the food Mom had plated for me. Thankfully, it was
spaghetti, which was one of Mom’s better dishes. After all, how much damage
could a person do to pasta and sauce?

The
food seemed to help a bit. Stomach settled, I went back to my room to tackle my
homework. Since I’d been zoned out during most of the lectures, most of my
assignments didn’t make much sense to me. Reluctantly, I had to ask Luke for
help with an Algebra assignment.

He
complained, making sure I was aware how much of a pain in the ass I was being
by asking him for help, but he did it anyway. Thankfully, he was able to muddle
through an explanation that sort of made sense. Otherwise, I would have had to
ask Dad, who did not have the patience. I didn’t think Dad was very good at
explaining stuff anyway. Mom probably could have explained, but I didn’t want
to interrupt her viewing of
The Amazing Race
.

Over
the next few days, I avoided Jackson in the hallways and managed to keep my
lunch money out of Mark Moses’ greedy hands while the Cold War between my
parents persisted at home.

Unless
it was happening behind closed doors, the actual arguing had ceased, but the
tension remained. Dinners were quiet with conversation stilted. Mom would ask
Luke, Skylar and I about our days. Sometimes Dad would comment, but he and Mom
didn’t spare the other a word or glance.

My
worries that a divorce might be on the horizon reared their ugly head yet
again. Even Luke and Skylar seemed to notice the strain. I’d caught their
worried looks and shared glances on more than one occasion. The one time Luke
noticed me watching, he smiled at me in what I could only guess was meant to be
a reassuring way. It didn’t help.

Finally,
after three days of tense meals, the point of contention came to light.

We
had just sat down to eat, so Luke and Skylar had not yet had a chance to begin
the typical under table texts or video games. Dad was stoically eating
Rice-A-Roni (chicken and broccoli) when Mom cleared her throat. “Kids, there’s
something your father and I wanted to talk to you about.”

From
the look Dad shot Mom, it was clear this wasn’t entirely true.

Mom
smiled, but I could tell she was nervous, and I felt my heart begin to pound. I
glanced over at Luke, and his eye caught mine. He grimaced, and I knew he
suspected the same thing I’d been worried about, but then Mom spoke. “I’ve
decided to go back to work.”

I
blinked blankly, but my heart slowed back down to a normal rate as Mom went on.
“I’ve been hired to replace a third grade teacher at Franklin,” she explained.

A
quick look at Dad made his opinion on the matter quite clear, but Luke and
Skylar both seemed surprised and maybe a little shocked, like they’d forgot Mom
was an actual person and capable of doing more than Mom stuff. I had to
consider my opinion for a moment, but compared to what I’d been worried she
might tell us, I decided this news was actually good.

When
no one else spoke, I decided to break the silence because Mom’s smile started
to waver into a frown. “When do you start?”

Her
smile brightened again, obviously pleased by my interest. “Monday morning,” she
answered. Her tone was cheerful but stern as she went on. “I know it’s going to
be an adjustment, but this means everyone is going to have to start pulling
more of their own weight around here.”