I wake up to my phone ringing on my nightstand, the vibrations creating a loud and obnoxious noise. Groaning out loud, I roll over and blindly reach for my phone, glowering for a moment when I realize that it's two in the morning before answering the call.
"Hello?" Bryce's voice.
"Bryce, what? It's two in the morning." The sounds of car passing is obvious in the background on Bryce's end of the call, making me tack on, "Where the hell are you?"
Bryce hiccups. "I'm lonely."
I pinch the bridge of my noise, getting up on tired legs to turn on my light. "Bryce, you're drunk. Go home."
"Can't," Bryce says as if that explains everything in the whole entire world.
"Why can't you?"
"I promised mom." Bryce's voice cracks. "I said I wouldn't d-drink anymore. She'll be sad." There's a silence in which I honestly have no clue as to what to say, but Bryce kills the silence by saying, "Ellie, come join me, I'm lonely. I w-want a friend."
"You have plenty of friends, Bryce. Go back to them, go back to the party. It's safer than being outside."
"No!" Bryce exclaims stubbornly. "They're not my friends. You're my friend. I want you here."
It never fails to amaze me just how childish alcohol can turn someone. I sigh heavily, debating on what to do. "Bryce, do you know where you are?"
He avoids the question. "Ellie, if I were sad would you hug me?"
I rub my temples. "Pardon me?"
"If I were sad would you hug me?" he repeats, hiccupping again.
"Sure, yeah. I'd hug you if you were sad, Bryce. Now do you know where you are?"
"Cassidy didn't hug me when I was sad," Bryce continues. "She's not my friend. If you- you were to hug me when I'm sad, you're my frie-friend."
I feel my eyebrows furrow. Cassidy Molon and Bryce dated for freshman and sophomore year, but broke it off earlier this year. Nothing ever came out of Bryce's mouth about it, but soon the whole school knew what had gone down between them. Cassidy had- supposedly- wanted space and an open relationship and Bryce didn't want that. They ended up breaking up because, as Cassidy put it, he was 'suffocating'. I don't see how that can be true- what type of teenager in their right mind would want an open relationship?- but whatever, I guess; it's not my business.
I avoid his statement by asking, for the hundredth time, "Where are you Bryce?"
"The town park. I wanted to go see the dinosaur, Ellie. Come see the dinosaur with me!"
Confused, I mull over Bryce's words before remembering- there's a toy purple dinosaur at the town park that little kids can climb. It's high, though, and in Bryce's drunken state, I don't like his idea. "Bryce, please go home. It's not safe."
"No, I can't go home! I can't!" Bryce continues a tirade of 'no' and 'I can't' making my heart clench. Does he really not want to disappoint his mother that much?
"You have to go somewhere," I try.
"I wanna go with you," Bryce tells me, dragging out his words. "Come here, we can see the dinosaur together!"
I sigh heavily. On the one hand, I really do want to go to him, but the town park is on the complete other side of town. I don't drive, either, so I can't exactly get to him by car. I bite the inside of my cheek, debating my options. "Bryce, listen to me. Are you listening?"
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YOU ARE READING
The Ribbon Campaign
Teen FictionWhen Ellie Reinhart started the 'Ribbon Campaign' in support of her brother and his boyfriend, she didn't expect it to grow into what it is. But it does. And that's where Bryce Newman comes in.