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Chapter 19: More Mistakes

A pounding headache woke me up from my comatose sleep. My eyes blinked open slowly, and my hand immediately flew to my aching temples. I turned my head, trying to get a better understanding of my surroundings and figure out where I was, but my vision was blurry and nothing seemed familiar. I let out a groan and rolled over.

"Kennedy?" A groggy voice questioned.

I sat up, feeling blood rush to my head. I couldn't locate where the voice had come from, but my vision had cleared enough for me to be able to figure out that I was in a bedroom. There were football posters on the walls and an overflowing clothes hamper in the corner of the room. I had no idea who's room I was in.

"Kennedy, wake up." The voice repeated. I turned to my left and saw that I wasn't alone in the bed: Jack, the ignorant football player, was lying next to me.

I screamed, and kneed him in the stomach so hard he fell out of the bed and crashed on the floor. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" He replied, rubbing his injured elbow that had hit the ground hardest. "What are you screaming about?"

"Did we-" I gestured from the bed to Jack, praying to the Lord above that I wasn't so drunk that I would have forgotten that.

"No, you passed out." Jack snorted bitterly, clearly disappointed about the outcome of the night.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, in that case, I should be going. Thank you for your hospitality," I sneered sarcastically.

Before he could respond, I made my escape from the room. Ignoring the pounding in my head and the unease in my stomach, I hurried out the bedroom door, pausing only to grab one of Jack's over-sized t-shirts to cover my exposed body.

I raced out Jack's front door. I couldn't remember anything after Ivory and J left the party. Hailee had been my ride to Sacha's house; where had she ended up? Where had Ricky gone? There were so many questions, and searching my aching brain for the answers and coming up blank was frustrating me.

"Focus, Kennedy," I whispered out loud to myself. I was standing on the curb of a random street with no idea of where I was or how to get home. I needed to focus on that before I could try and remember all the events of last night.

But how was I going to do that? I had no idea where my phone was; probably lost somewhere in Sacha's estate. All I had was the t-shirt on my back, and that wasn't going to help me with directions.

"Kennedy?" A familiar voice called out my name.

When I turned around, I nearly burst into tears with relief. "Ricky!" I bounded over to him and gave him a hug. Instead of returning the hug, Ricky's arms remained stiff at his sides. I looked up at him, confused.

"Here," he said roughly, shoving a slim iPhone into my hands. My iPhone; he had it!

Before I could thank him, he turned and walked away, heading towards the house that was presumably his. "Wait, Ricky!" I called.

He stopped and turned around. His eyes scanned me, stopping when he took in the t-shirt I was wearing. Self-conscious, I glanced down at it too. It was one of Jack's football t-shirts, with his number clearly displayed on the front: 22. "What do you want?' He spat out bitterly.

"I...I need a ride home." I kicked a loose stone absentmindedly down his driveway.

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Ricky pulled his keys out of his pocket and gestured to his Toyota. "Get in."

I climbed into the passenger seat, lightly drumming my fingers on my thigh as I waited for Ricky to start up the engine. Uncomfortable in the silence, I decided to plead my case with him. "Listen, Ricky, this isn't what it looks like." I gestured to Jack's t-shirt.

"I don't want to hear it, Kennedy." Ricky's fingers gripped onto the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

"Why are you so upset?"

Ricky shook his head, refusing to meet my eye. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does!" I pressed on. "What did I do that was so horrible?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I guess I just thought you were different. But I guess I was wrong. Which street do I turn on?"

As I listed the directions to my house, my mind replayed what Ricky said over and over. What did he mean, he thought I was different? Different from who? Aubrey? Ivory? A past girlfriend I knew nothing about? Well, of course I was different. I was my own person. So why did he think he was wrong about me? I am different, aren't I?

"Well..." I began awkwardly, glancing at Ricky out of the corner of my eye to see if he was calmer. Nope, he was just as tense as he was 30 seconds ago. "Since you don't want to talk to me, I guess I'll call Ivory." I tapped on her contact picture and listened to my phone ring. There was no answer.

"That's weird," I mumbled. Why wouldn't Ivory pick up? Her phone was almost always near her. I tapped her contact picture again, praying that she would pick up. Nothing.

Ricky laughed, but it was one of those humourless, sad laughs. "Did you honestly think she would want to talk to you after last night?"

Confused, I looked over at Ricky. What exactly had happened last night? It scared me that when I thought of the party my mind drew a blank. It had been a while since I had been completely blackout drunk.

"Ricky, if I did something to you last night that made you upset, I'm sorry." I bit my lip. "I was wasted, you were too. You can't possibly hold me accountable for anything."

He pulled the car into my driveway, put it into park and turned the engine off before turning to look at me. His blue eyes were clouded with disapproval. For a moment, it looked like he was going to confide in me, but then he changed his mind. "Whatever."

Annoyed, I opened the door and stepped out, slamming it behind me without even bothering to thank Ricky for the ride. How was I supposed to apologize for something when I didn't even know what I was apologizing for? I wasn't going to thank him for anything until he told me what he was so upset about.

I unlocked my front door and walked into my empty house. I entered the kitchen and spotted a note on the counter from my mom.

Good morning sweetheart! I hope you had a good time at Ivory's. I'll be home around 5. Love, Mom.

I rolled my eyes and crumpled the note in my hands. I had forgotten about my little white lie to my mom about going over to Ivory's. I didn't think I had even told her I was sleeping over... Hopefully my mom hadn't called Ivory to confirm my story. She must not have, otherwise her little good morning note would have been a lot angrier.

There was no one for me to call. Hailee had driven me to the party and then ignored me for the rest of the night. I hadn't had a real conversation with Sacha and Aubrey in weeks, Ivory was ignoring my calls, and Ricky was pissed at me for some unknown reason. I had come scarily close to sleeping with the school's biggest man whore. To top it all off, I had a massive headache and my stomach felt like it was killing itself. Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I felt a lump growing in my throat.

"You cannot cry," I ordered myself. Despite my orders, I could feel a tear dripping down my cheek.

"Fuck everything!" I screamed. I had no one to turn to, no one to talk to. No one cared. I collapsed onto the couch and sobbed. I had never felt so alone before.

The more time I spent lying on the couch, the more random thoughts swam through my mind. Sub-conciously I found myself drifting down the stairs down to the basement. I barely ever went down there, it used to be my dad's man cave and now it was mostly empty.

My eyes were drawn to my mom's wine cabinet. I thought of the bliss of numbed emotions and the joyful bliss of being drunk.

"She won't notice if one is missing," I mumbled.