Seven Days

2: Rude Awakening

2: Rude Awakening

I startled awake, jolting straight up in bed to find Wendy throwing clothes at me. “Get up, you idiot.”

My breathing slowed as I saw her standing right in front of me, her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot impatiently. I scrambled out of bed and stared at her, unable to grasp that she was really here.

Did last night really happen? Was it all some terrible, sick dream? What the fuck had happened? It had all been so vivid, so real. There was no way in hell that I could come up with something as decrepit and twisted as that.

“What the fuck are you doing? Hurry up and get ready before we’re late for class.”

I stood transfixed for a couple more seconds before I bounded forward and crushed her in my arms. She was here – this was real. It all had been just a horrible nightmare. Last night didn’t happen.

“What is wrong with you?” Wendy protested. “Are you high?” She untangled herself from my grasp and gave me a once over. “You promised that you weren’t going to do that shit anymore. C’mon, Ian.”

“You’re here.” It was all I could think of saying. She was here. It was all that mattered.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Will you two keep the damn noise down? Damn. Rude fuckers.”

Wendy turned her attention to the bed across the room, staring daggers in Keegan’s direction. “Keegan, you weren’t supposed to let him get high before Manchester’s midterm. You’re so stupid, the word special comes to mind.”

Midterm? Midterms were last week. Wendy had passed with flying colors while I sailed on by, enough to keep my lacrosse scholarship intact.

Keegan shifted in his bed, bringing up his hand and flashing an obscene gesture. “Right back at you,” she said, fuming. To me she said, “I’m leaving. You’re seriously fucked up. What were you thinking? All the hours we spent studying and you just…”

She sighed and held up her hands in defeat. “Whatever. Not my problem.” Turning on her heels, she grasped the door knob in her hand and opened it, stepping out into the empty hallway.

“Wen, wait.”

She paused, her shoulders high and tensed. Not once had she let me get a word in edge wise. I didn’t know if the truth would be better than a lie. After all it had only been a nightmare; nothing for her to worry about. She’d probably say as much if I told her anyway.

“I’m not high. Look at me, really look at me and tell me that I am.”

She turned her head, throwing me a look behind her shoulder before turning her entire body and facing me. Her eyes scrutinized mine and after a long minute she sighed in defeat, all her anger fading.

“If you’re not high, then what the fuck was that?”

My mouth set into a grimace. Wendy looked at me expectantly, lifting her eyebrows in question. I shook my head and said, “Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you out in the lobby.”

||

Wendy walked in a fast pace in front of me, stopping every couple of seconds, jerking my arm to keep up with her.

“We’re not going to be late,” I offered, but she wouldn’t hear it.

She looked down at her wrist watch and shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m probably going to fail. Might as well hand Manchester an easy pass to bring out the red felt pen.”