Call Me (HIATUS)

Chapter Four: Getting My Mind off of Things

Barb never said there'd be kids.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love children. But would you trust a group of frat boys and a couple of sorority sisters to take care of what must have been at least twenty kids? Nah, I wouldn't either. Especially when Barb poured hard whiskey into the punch.

Patrick was sitting in a chair beside the punch table, dressed as Santa Claus with a little girl perched on his lap. He was a perfect candidate for the role of Kris Kringle, considering his body type. Or he would be a perfect candidate if it weren't for his foul mouth. "Ho, ho, ho, shit," he mumbled exasperated.

Barb stared at him in mock horror, lowering her cup of spiked punch from her mouth. "Santa, please!" she gasped. "The children!"

"Oh, fuck the children," Patrick groaned. "Ho, ho, ho, fuck."

Barb chuckled, turning to the girl seated in Patrick's lap. "Santa's being naughty, isn't he?" she joked as Patrick glared at her. The girl nodded, giggling.

I walked over to the punch bowl, scooping a ladleful of whiskey-infused punch, pouring it into a glass to drink. "Hey, Barb," I began, hesitantly, "i-is Jess here?" I looked at her, a bit worried about my sorority sister and taking an anxious sip of my punch.

"Yeah, she's right there," Barb answered calmly, pointing to where Jess and Phyl were engaged in conversation. "The real question is where Clare is," she muttered, sounding a bit irked at the young sister's absence.

I quietly sucked in a breath, debating on whether or not to tell her. I... I should tell her, right?  "Barb, I-"

"I bet she left early with her dad," Barb decided. She glanced at my now-empty glass of punch. "Do you want some more punch? I could get you some," she offered kindly.

I smiled at her. "Thank you, but I think I can get some myself," I stated. I gestured to the bowl, which was sitting right in front of me. "I mean, it's right there."

Barb chuckled. "Yeah, good point," she agreed with a wide grin. I poured myself a cup of punch, sipping on the spiked party drink.

I waltzed over to the living room, dodging small children as they scurried past me. "Hey! No running inside!" I shouted after them, slurring a little. I chuckled lightly to myself as I collapsed into the couch. "I knew my booze tolerance was pathetic, but damn this is strong!" I announced loudly, leaning into Jess.

"Virginia? Are you okay?" Jess fretfully implored.

"Mm-hm," I responded, taking a sip of the punch. "I'm just..." I searched my brain for words that could describe my current state of intoxication. "Tired... I guess," I finished finally, yawning for emphasis. 

"Well, it is late," Phyl reasoned, half to herself. She pushed herself up off of the couch. "And you're drunk," she added with a giggle. "Come on, I'll help you home."

"What- I'm not drunk!" I protested with a shrill, childish whine. I huffed angrily, glaring at the two girls. 

Jess laughed. "Yes, Virginia, you are drunk. I can tell," she replied with a warm smile and a small laugh. I grumbled in protest as she heaved me up to standing position, letting me lean into her shoulder for support. 

"Hey, Barb? We're going to take Virginia back home!" Phyl called, gently escorting me to the front door of the frat house.

"Alrighty then! Thanks for letting me know!" Barb yelled. She turned back to her conversation with Patrick, taking a sip of what was surely her fourth glass of spiked punch.

"Here, I'll get the door for you two," Phyl offered. She rushed over to the door and pushed it open, allowing all three of us to escape from the stuffy party into the cool night air.

"So, what's on your mind?" Jess asked suddenly as I limped beside her. I hummed in confusion. "You know, since the call the other day, you've been acting..." She paused, searching for the right words.

"Paranoid? Frightened, maybe?" Phyl finished for her, almost jokingly.

"Troubled," Jess said finally, nodding thoughtfully after some moments of hesitation.

"Mm-hm," I nodded, agreeing half-heartedly. "The Moaner, he just... freaks me out, y'know? Like... really freaks me out," I elaborated, sighing. My posture drooped, my arms falling to my sides as I leaned closer into Jess's shoulder. "He freaks me out," I repeated quietly, mumbling and slurring drunkenly.

"But why?" Phyl asked. "He's always given us these creepy calls! It's practically tradition at this point!" She exclaimed, attempting to quell my worries.

"But has he ever talked to us?"I shot back, irritated that the girls weren't taking my words seriously. Certainly, that would get them to see how strange this all was, now that I had pointed it out!

Jess seemed to ponder this for a moment. "W-well, no, but-"

"No! No! No buts!" I cut her off loudly, even more angered now at their dismissiveness. "It's weird! It's creepy! It's... rapey! And I don't like it! I don't like it one bit!" I exclaimed, my face flushing with anger. "And- and there's a man in our attic!" I added, exasperated.

Jess and Phyl looked at each other for a moment in shock, then began to giggle. "What? What's so goddamn funny?" I shrieked in a drunken fury, shivering from both anger and the freezing cold.

"That's probably Claude, silly!" Phyl laughed, amused. "You know how clumsy he is! You're probably just overreacting, Virginia," she added dismissively.

"It doesn't matter," Jess sighed, recovering from her laughing fit. "We're home now, and we're safe."

I glared at her. We weren't safe. Didn't she care that there was a man in the attic? Didn't she care that the Moaner threatened to rape us? Didn't she care that Clare was dead? Didn't she care at all? Then again... I was drunk... Phyl was probably right. Perhaps I was really just overreacting. All I needed right now was some water and some rest, and when I woke up, everything would be fine, right?

Right?