Callie's Sister

Chapter 17

“Go away,” I shouted at Cam. I could not handle any more humiliation. He took a step towards me as I spit to get the taste of the vomit out of my mouth. “Go away.”

It was just as well because his cell rang again. I was so overwhelmed and exhausted I couldn’t even protest his answering it. I spit another time. I had to get rid of the vomit taste so I went back to the car, got my iced coffee and took a sip from the little that was left.

Sitting down on one of the wooden steps, I wouldn’t allow myself to think about the events of the past several hours. A cardinal started flying in and out of the small trees in the yard and I focused on his path. He seemed so carefree. Lucky bird.

Cam came around the side of the house and sat down next to me on the step. What could I say to him?

“So you’ve managed to cut your head, almost get arrested, almost drown and then vomit all over the beach,” Cam said. “And it’s not even lunchtime.”

I gave a reluctant, defeated laugh.

“Does that thing ever stop ringing?” I asked, pointing to his cell.

“The joys and privileges of having a girlfriend,” he said. Sarcastically, I thought. “Now what?”

“I can’t go home,” I said. “Not yet.”

“You have to go home at some point,” he said.

“I know.”

“But we’ve bought you the afternoon with our very important yearbook meeting.”

“They couldn’t make the yearbook without us,” I said.

He laughed. “Will we have to join now? So we’re not liars?”

“Sadly, I don’t think anyone will be checking up on me.” I stood up and started to walk down the driveway a little.

“Maddie, stop exaggerating,” he said, following me.

“I’m not. Not a bit. Since this whole thing started, I don’t think I’ve gotten one ‘how was your day, Maddie?’ or ‘what have you been up to, Maddie’. They weren’t that concerned with me before and it certainly hasn’t changed.” The words hung there. He didn’t answer me. There was no answer, really. It was how it was.

“How about a movie?” Cam asked. “Some stupid cop car chase thing.”

“Maybe a chick flick,” I suggested.

“Or a gross-out comedy.”

We got back in the car. Wet bra and underwear can be very uncomfortable. I turned up the heat. High.

“Head to the multiplex on Route 7,” I said. “Maybe we’ll find some sort of compromise there.”

He started driving again. I had put off my return home, but only for a few more hours.