Two Ways to Spell Blake

{Chapter 7}

We drive around for five minutes before we realize we have no idea where we're going. I text Blake. After a second he text back: 841 Piers Avenue. Atlanta turns the car around and starts in the other direction.

Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the house. It's two stories. On the lawn, a couple of people wander around, most likely drunk. Well, no one else will get drunk if I have something to say about it. Through the windows on the first floor, I can see a crowd of teens dancing.

"You ready?" Atlanta asks.

"Not really," I shake my head.

"Let's go," she smiles and gets out of the car.

Not wanting to be left in the car alone, I follow her. The music outside isn't loud, but I can still hear it which makes me wonder how loud it is inside. Atlanta, seeming to know what she's doing, walks up to the door and goes right in. I follow her and immediately want to go back outside.

The music is so loud I can't hear myself think. But the stench is worse. It smells like alcohol and sweat mixed together. In the foyer, there is barely any people. But beyond the foyer, I can see I don't even know how many people.

I turn to Atlanta and see she's saying something. I shake my head and point to my ear. She grabs my hand and leads me deeper into the house. Off to one side, is a set of stairs. She pulls me up them and into a bathroom.

"Text Blake and tell him we're here," she says.

I text him and a second later he responds.

"What did he say?" she asks peering at my phone.

"He said, 'Cool. We're downstairs. Where are you?'" I read off my phone.

"Tell him we're in a bathroom on the second floor," she says and I do as she says.

He responds and she demands I read it out to her.

"He asked which bathroom we're in," I tell her.

"We're in the one closest to the stairs," she says and I give her a look.

"No, I thought we were in the one closest to the back," I reply sarcastically as my phone dings.

"What now?" she asks eagerly.

"He asked why we're in a bathroom," I read off my phone, already typing a response.

"And what are you saying?" she wonders.

"I'm told him we're in a bathroom because of how loud it was downstairs," I shrug as there's a knock at the door.

"Occupado," I scream and Atlanta stifles a laugh.

The door opens and I realize we didn't lock it. Standing before us is Blake, Dylan, and Aaron. The music seems to be louder, giving me a headache. I pull them into the bathroom and this time lock the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you kidnapping us?" Blake says.

"Yes, I'm kidnapping you in a bathroom that's on a the second floor," I give him a look.

"That wasn't Spanish. Do you even know Spanish?" Aaron asks.

"Don't criticize my Spanish," I say.

"So what are we doing in a bathroom?" Blake raises an eyebrow.

"The music is too loud. Someone needs to turn it down," I growl.

"Dylan," Aaron says.

"I like the loud music," Dylan shrugs.

"Yeah but some of your guests don't," Blake mutters.

"Wait, this is your house?" I raises my eyebrows at Dylan.