"What do you mean?"
"You don't remember?"
"Remember what?"
Sabrina is relieved when Madison Long lets go of her and takes a few steps out of her personal space. Lisa and her share a confusing glance before looking back at the pitiful gaze their classmate is giving them.
"Connor's party. I heard that he took advantage of you."
Sabrina avoids glimpsing at the man himself as he passes them in the hallway. Today, he's in a mostly transparent button up shirt, that will probably get him dress-coded for the umpteenth time in his high school career, black skinny jeans, and brown, ankle high, heeled boots. It was different from his usual mom jeans and oversized sweatshirt look, but Sabrina liked that he was able to pull off both masculine and feminine outfits.
It was true that she couldn't remember anything post her first drink at Connor's bonfire. There were a few foggy memories, like trying to play the guitar drunk and jumping over the firepit after being dared to. But, within her brain, she only remembers seeing Connor when she woke up almost completely naked beside him.
Though, she knew one thing was certain.
"No, no. Connor and I had consensual sex."
She just didn't know how.
Madison's face falls and she looks at Sabrina as if she's a stray dog; patronizing and insincere, "Hun, he probably drugged you. He was shoving drink after drink down your throat. Look, I have pictures."
The pictures she has are blurry and dark and very low quality, but there's no denying what they disclose. Connor was wearing a newspaper boat as a hat and Sabrina had glow sticks decorating her wrists. The people in the background of the photos change as a number of cups seen on the counter fluctuates, but one thing remains the same; Connor, with that goofy smile he always has when he's drunk, handing her cup after cup of assumed alcohol.
"Now that I think about it, every time you said you were going inside to get a drink, Connor always insisted on going with you," Lisa speaks slowly, trying her best not to sound accusatory while considering it in her mind.
Sabrina's voice is drenched in desperation as she whirls around to face her best friend, "But he's our friend, Lisa. Connor wouldn't ever do something like that, right?"
Lisa doesn't have an answer.
She does, however, make up some lie about Sabrina getting her period in the middle of class to avoid any questions about her absence. She had left just as the late bell rang, leaving Lisa to show up late and alone to lunch. But she couldn't blame her. It was the first time she had seen Sabrina cry since she broke up with Dylan H. in the eighth grade.
Connor was the one to comfort her through that.
YOU ARE READING
The Taste of Yellow Paint Chips
Ficção Adolescente"No!" She wags her finger in Connor's face, her body tense with an immense amount of anger, "Don't 'Sabrina' me, asshole. This is all your fault! You just had to throw that goddamn party!" In which a friendship between four friends falls apart...
