ASSHOLES | scream au

7. chad, chad, chad

Tara: What are you doing?
Amber: Chad and Wes forced me to throw a 'memorial'(party) at my place
Tara: Wow..
Amber: it's nothing babe, i swear

Tara bit her lip, weighing Amber's words, her eyes shifting to Sam, who had turned back to face her. "I left a message for Mom," Sam told her, her voice steady but layered with concern. "I told her where we're going." She studied Tara closely. "You good back there?"

Tara shifted in her seat, a wave of urgency washing over her. "We have to stop at Amber's," she informed Sam, her tone firm, unwilling to back down on this.

Sam's expression hardened slightly as she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You can call her once we're out of town—"

"It's not that," Tara interrupted, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I have things at her house—"

"We'll buy you new things, Tara," Sam assured her, her voice softening as she tried to ease Tara's anxiety.

But Tara felt a surge of desperation. "Dad's necklace," she cut Sam off, the weight of her words hanging in the air. The image of the necklace flooded her mind—Amber wore it often, a constant reminder of her father and everything they had lost. She had seen it a hundred times, and the thought of leaving it behind felt like an unbearable betrayal.

Sam closed her eyes momentarily, frustration etched across her features as she lightly slammed her head against the headrest. "Five minutes, in and out," she decided, the determination in her voice a signal that she would do anything for her sister.

"Wait, what?" Richie exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in shock as he processed Sam's words. The plan seemed reckless, and he couldn't help but voice his concerns.

"What's the address?" Sam questioned Tara, cutting through the tension.

"123 No Fucking Way Lane!" Richie responded defensively, disbelief dripping from his voice.

Sam turned to Richie with a sigh, her eyes steady yet filled with resolve. "It's important," she insisted, her tone brokering no argument.

"So is not getting killed! It's really right up there!" Richie argued back, his voice rising slightly as anxiety tinged his words. He was trying to convey the danger of their situation, but Sam merely shot him a look that spoke volumes. With a defeated slump of his shoulders, Richie relented, reluctantly tapping on the console's GPS. "What's the address?" he asked Tara, his tone softening as he realized the significance of her request.

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Amber glanced at her phone with a sigh, feeling the weight of disappointment as Tara left her on read. God, it wasn't her fault! She couldn't just abandon Mindy, Chad, Wes, and Liv in her house, especially not with the emotional chaos of the day. That would be seriously irresponsible. With a huff, she tucked her phone into her back pocket and made her way downstairs, where the raucous noise of the gathering enveloped her. Apparently, Wes wanted a memorial for his mother, but Amber was starting to question what kind of memorial involved hundreds of people drinking alcohol, getting drunk, and dancing while making out with one another.

The atmosphere was charged; weed was being smoked, beer was being bonged, and Amber could feel her stress levels rising with every raucous cheer. Moving into the kitchen, she found Wes and Chad leaning casually against the counter, both sporting goofy grins with shot glasses in hand. Chad had his arm draped around Wes's shoulder in a brotherly manner, exuding a relaxed vibe that felt utterly inappropriate given the circumstances.

"To Sheriff Judy!" Chad toasted, raising his glass high.

"To Sheriff Judy!" echoed the other jocks, their voices a mix of reverence and rowdiness. With a collective cheer, they downed their tequila shots, the glasses clinking together in a toast that felt far too celebratory for a memorial.