The Apocalypse (34 page)

Another pause came, this one longer. "I think you should calm down," Hannah said slowly. Her voice was still quiet, and it bothered Jake more than he wanted to admit. "I'm fine."

Jake sighed deeply, trying hard to calm himself. It worked surprisingly well, and he hoped it wasn't because he'd been assured that she was okay. "Why'd you leave?" he questioned, his voice softer this time. "I would've gladly left too."

It seemed like Jake could hear Hannah swallow. "I just got really bored. And it looked like you were enjoying yourself, so I didn't want to bother you."

"Nah…" Jake fell silent then, as did Hannah, but it was a peaceful silence, or at least that's how Jake would have described it. "I'm about to head out now, actually. It's getting wild."

"Have you been drinking, Jake? I'll come get you if you have."

Jake thought about it. He had drunk
a
little earlier but not nearly enough to even give himself a buzz. "I'm good. Thanks though." He yawned and then frowned. "How'd you say you got home?"

"I didn't."

His frown deepened. "You didn't get home or you didn't say?"

"I didn't say," Hannah clarified. "Don't ask me again."

Jake groaned. "Aw man, you had that dumbass take you home, didn't you? God, Hannah… Hudson?"

"Greg?" Hannah asked, shocked. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, you don't want to tell me, and you know I can't
stand
him," Jake reasoned, baffled by the ease at which his words came out of his mouth. "Of course I'd be pissed if he took you home."

"I walked, Jake."

Taken aback, Jake stared at the ground and mulled over her words. After
a
moment, he sighed deeply. "I'm going to kill you," he informed her. "Really, I am. Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Jake had the perfect mental image of Hannah's defiant expression. It made him mad all over again, but this time his anger wasn't as intense. He was borderline amused until he thought of Hannah walking in the dark, alone, in the freezing cold. Add in that she probably wasn't too confident of her location and how to get home. While those thoughts would have once entertained Jake, they made him feel bad now, and that nearly made him mad at himself. But he was too tired to get too mad.

Finally, he sighed in resignation. "Go to bed, Hannah. You can bet we'll be talking tomorrow."

"Whatever. Good night."

Jake wrinkled his nose as Hannah hung up her phone. He stood then and started walking toward where he'd parked his truck, hoping that he wouldn't be blocked in by any vehicles. Jake was nearly to his Ranger when he noticed lights in a car nearby. He glanced casually and immediately recognized Brent with some girl. Interested too much, Jake turned in that direction and went over to the car. He was totally stunned to see Tisha and Brent sitting close together inside, apparently flirting.

Amused, Jake tapped on the window lightly, startling them both. Brent opened the door and grinned at Jake. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Jake shrugged lazily. "I'm going to head home. You and Ethan want me to pick you guys up later or what?"

"I'll take you home, Brent," Tisha offered. "And I'm sure we can fit Ethan in too." She smiled at Jake. "No problem." She paused and tipped her head at Jake. "I'm afraid Hannah's pissed at you, by the way."

Jake raised his eyebrows. Surely Hannah hadn't already texted Tisha since they'd talked on the phone. "What for now?"

"Apparently, you were flirting with too many girls in front of her, so she got mad and left," Brent answered, a knowing smirk on his face. Jake looked away from his friend and glanced at Tisha for confirmation.

She gave him
a
sympathetic smile. "That's the gist of it, yeah. But don't worry. I'll help bail you out with her, if you think you need help."

"I'll probably be okay," Jake replied, having already talked to Hannah and survived—albeit not in person. "But I'll let you know."

Brent flashed him a warning glance. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Sighing, Jake started for his truck, calling backwards, "That's what I hear."

Never in her life had Hannah ever experienced being any colder than she had been on New Year's Eve—or at least that was what she'd let herself believe, since she may, in fact, have been colder at some point in her life, though she doubted it very seriously. Walking home from Mollie's house had left Hannah with a coldness that ran to her bones, and her face had turned red from wind and cold. Tiny snowflakes had frozen into her hair while her feet had slid on icy sidewalk. Once she'd arrived back at her house, she'd changed into dry clothes, made steaming hot chocolate, and bundled under four blankets. She was still cold when she'd fallen asleep.

Now, with winter sunlight streaming through the blinds of her bedroom's windows, Hannah finally felt warm. Her nose was still chilly, which Hannah found hard to believe, but overall, she decided that she'd warmed up. She sat up in bed, and it hit Hannah—her nose was definitely stuffy. Inhaling, Hannah realized that the stuffiness was not going away. Additionally, her throat was sore, and she could feel that something was not right in her lungs.

She was sick. Already.

Sighing, Hannah felt of her cheeks and forehead, trying to see if she had a fever. Oh how she hoped not, but she couldn't
tell
if she did. She paused, debating about whether or not she was hungry. A lost appetite would have sealed the deal, but Hannah's stomach assured her that her appetite was as healthy as ever, and that assured Hannah that her sickness couldn't be too bad.

She swung her feet out of bed and wrapped up in a quilt, not trusting the rest of her house to be as warm as the realm under her blankets. In her socks, Hannah padded down to the empty kitchen and started scrambling for breakfast.

"Good morning, sweetie," her mother greeted. Patricia left the sink where she'd been scrubbing at a pot and went to her daughter's side. Hannah was then engulfed in a hug. "How did you sleep?"

Hannah smiled and poured herself some orange juice, taking
a
seat at the kitchen table. "Very well."

Patricia paused and studied Hannah for a moment, but then she migrated toward the stove. "I'll make you some pancakes." Hannah grinned her appreciation and sipped her juice, allowing the cold liquid to soothe her sore throat. "How was the party last night? I didn't hear you come in, but I saw you asleep early."

Hannah's shoulders sunk in remembrance of the party. "It was okay. I got bored, so I came home." Hannah prayed that her mom wouldn't question transportation. "I was really tired."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Patricia settled medication in front of Hannah and gave Hannah's back a firm pat. "You're sick," she said simply to Hannah's inquisitive glance, returning to the stove and the batch of pancakes. "Should I make pancakes for Isaac now or wait till later? I don't want them to get too cold… I never know how long that boy is going to sleep."

"Mm…" Hannah swallowed the pills that her mother had supplied her with and hoped they'd take care of the illness. "I don't know," she murmured distractedly, finding herself watching the movements of her mother very closely. "Mom?"

Patricia jumped to attention and looked at her daughter instantly. "Yes, dear?"

"I…I'm sorry I went out that night." Hannah offered a sad smile. "It was stupid for me to go out when I knew that the roads would be dangerous."

Something quite similar to tears seemed to glisten in Patricia's eyes, unless it was just the angle that Hannah viewed her at. Patricia moved to her daughter's side and enveloped Hannah in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie," she murmured gently. "I'm just so glad you're okay. And I know you're going to be fine, Hannah. You've always been a fighter."

Hannah swallowed, snuggling into her mother. Somehow, that made her feel much better.

"Hannah! The girls are here!"

"Shut up, Isaac!"

"What's your problem, Libby?"

Hannah nearly smiled at the banter between her brother and Libby as she came down the stairs of her house. She'd been dozing for most of the afternoon, but she'd just taken a long hot shower to clear her head; already, she was feeling better, though nowhere near one hundred percent well.

"Just shut up, Isaac, please," Libby snapped, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "Go away now."

"Libby, stop being a bitch," Tisha scolded, ruffling Isaac's blond hair. He smirked at Libby, growing arrogant after Tisha's defense. "Hey, Han."

Hannah smiled at her friends, though she was surprised to see them gathered together in her living room. It only took her
a
moment to realize that Isaac was studying her intensely, which Hannah responded to with raised eyebrows. He raised his right back, confusing Hannah a little bit.

"Mom said to tell you that she and Diane went out somewhere," Isaac informed Hannah as he made for the stairs. "She'll be back by dinner."

After her brother had disappeared, Hannah plopped onto the couch beside Tisha, near the chair where Morgan was taking up space. Surprisingly to herself, Hannah didn't feel a bit awkward with her friends. It finally felt all right to be around them.

"Is he gone?"

Morgan rolled her eyes, and it was then that Hannah noticed that Libby's eyes were closed as she clutched her head. "Yes, Libby, he's gone."

Immediately, Libby slid from her chair and stretched out over the floor, burying her head beneath her arms. Hannah stared at her, stumped. "Is something wrong, Libby?"

Libby responded initially with something that was a mix of growling and groaning. "I have
a
hangover from hell."

Tisha exploded with giggles, and Hannah found herself laughing along with her. Finally, Libby would have to keep her mouth shut about everything because she was in no mood to talk, let alone argue. "Fascinating," Hannah commented through laughter. "It's, like, four o'clock."

"She didn't stop drinking till five this morning," Morgan smirked, obviously disgusted. "I only got her out of bed an hour ago."

Hannah stole a glance at Tisha, and both girls broke out into hysterical laughter, much to Libby's displeasure. From the floor, Libby sent them
a
perfect view of her middle finger. That only made the girls laugh
harder
, and Morgan joined in.

"You seem much happier today," Tisha commented suddenly, looking at Hannah seriously. "You weren't too happy at all last night."

Morgan leaned forward in her chair to get a better look at Hannah. "Yeah, Han. What happened?"

Hannah shrugged. "I don't like parties too much."

"Neither do I," Libby groaned.

Tisha snickered. "Yes, you do, Lib. You just don't like the day afterwards."

A coughing fit from Hannah prevented an argument from breaking out. She rubbed her chest and coughed lighter. "I think it's time for my meds," she announced with a look at the clock. "Or maybe not."

"Did you really walk home last night?" Morgan asked, frowning. "I thought you were going to ride with Gloria."

"Gloria ran into Scott on the way out," Hannah explained, rolling her blue eyes. She shrugged. "They ended up—"