Some Day

3: The Party

Chapter Three

"Wednesday's are the worst," Carly groans, fidgeting in her seat. "This day has been so long."

I nod, agreeing with her. We're sitting in biology class, and time seems to be dragging on. We chat for a while longer, ignoring the actual assignment we're supposed to be doing.

"Are you going to that party on Friday?" I suddenly ask her. Kayla had been bugging me about it all through AP Lit today, and I'm actually considering going just so she'll get off my back.

"I don't think so," she sighs. "I wasn't really invited."

"Me neither," I tell her. "But who really invites people to parties? People just show up."

"I know, but I'm not friends with that group of people," she says.

"What group?" I ask, stretching out my legs under the table. Sitting for seven hours a day is unhealthy and I hate it.

"Like, the kind of popular group," she explains. "But there's not really a popularity thing here, so I don't know if you can call them that. They're just..." She thinks for a moment. "Like a big group of friends that always travels and throws the parties and sits front row at the football games. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I get what you're saying," I reply.

"All of my friends go to Eastville anyway." She spaces out, staring at the ground. "Well, I guess they're not really my friends anymore. After Ashton and I split they all took his side."

"Is Ashton your ex?" I ask, and she nods. "That sucks."

"Yeah, it really did," she says quietly.

I look at her sadly, feeling bad. I couldn't imagine all my friends ditching me after I broke up with my boyfriend.

I don't know what fuels me to say it, but I can't help the next words that slip out of my mouth. "Well, fuck them. Wanna go to the party with me?"

*****

God, I am stupid.

"God, you're stupid."

I glare at Matt. "I already know that!"

"You seriously can't go to a party, Rose," he says.

"I know that, too!" I groan. "But I can't just not go anymore, it's too late."

"Why not? Cancel," he says simply.

"That's mean!" I yell at him. "I am not a mean person!"

"Uh, have you heard the things you say to me? You're literally so rude," he tells me, crossing his arms.

"Because you're literally so dumb," I mock his deep voice.

"I—" he cuts himself off. "We're getting off topic!" I frown, looking out the living room window.

It's Wednesday after school, a couple hours after I told Carly I'd go to the party with her. She had agreed, and I felt so good in the moment. Now, however, I'm realizing it wasn't a good idea.

"You're supposed to lay low," Matt lectures. I swear, all he does is lecture me. "You can't go to a party." His eyes suddenly widen. "And you especially can't drink! I'm no doctor, but I think getting drunk when you're trying to recover from a stab wound is a bad idea!"

I purse my lips. "I didn't think about that."

"Yeah, well good thing that I did, huh?" He attempts to tell me off, putting his hands on his hips.

I pick my phone up and go to google after glaring at Matt. After some searching, I find something that says alcohol can slow down the healing process, and I groan.