Stuck in the Middle

Chapter 37

I woke up the next morning feeling like I was hungover, despite the fact that I didn't have a single drop of alcohol last night. My head pounded to the beat of the echoing bass from the music that had long since stopped - and I'd gotten far away from. We had somehow made it back to our room around 2 in the morning, which was quite the challenge, considering both Marc and John were very drunk.

Currently, I was laying half on John's chest, with Marc laying on my left arm. I wasn't entirely sure how we all managed to fit into one bed together, but somehow it happened.

I didn't know what time it was, but light was pouring through the window. I wish I could have gone back to sleep. Unfortunately, I would never be able to with the way my arm was pinned and I didn't want to wake Marc up just to have him move.

So I was rather stuck.

Then my phone started ringing. Loudly.

I groaned, burying my face into John's shoulder. Who was calling me this early? I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not with this headache.

I contemplated just letting it go to voicemail. But then Marc rolled over, half-awake, and somehow reached my phone from wherever it sat and handed it to me. At least my arm was free now.

I didn't even look at the screen before answering. "Hello?' I asked, sounding as groggy as I felt.

"Spencer, dear!"

I held back a groan at my mother's loud voice. I hadn't heard from her at all since I left my parents in the hospital nearly a month ago. This couldn't be good news she was calling with.

"What happened?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Did you just wake up? Spencer, the car is going to be there any minute for you! Aren't you ready?"

"What?" I sat up, fully awake now. "What car? I don't know anything about that. What's going on?"

"Your father's funeral. Petra should have told you."

I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up. One, I had no clue my father was dead. Two, I had no clue who Petra was.

Marc was looking at me curiously, starting to sit up as well, and John was beginning to stir, but I didn't even know how to answer my mother, let alone process the information enough to tell my boyfriends what was going on.

I decided asking the one question that seemed like the least pressing, but the only one I wanted to ask at the moment: "Who's Petra?"

"Spencer, really? She's been working for us for a month now, you really should pay attention. I hired her after I fired Esmeralda."

If I felt sick to my stomach before, the feeling suddenly became overwhelming. Fired? She'd been working for my parents for almost twenty years. Why was she fired? It wasn't because she took me back to school without telling my mom, was it? Was it my fault?

"The car will be there any minute," my mother repeated, like she didn't just drop multiple huge bombs on me. "Will you be ready?"

"No." The word came out as a whisper, but I meant it. So I said it louder. "No. I'm not coming. I don't want to."

"Spencer, your father-"

"I said no." Without letting her argue any more, I hung up.

Then the tears came.

They slowly made their way down my cheeks. I knew Marc was watching me with worry, but I didn't care. I'd tell him what happened once I could wrap my head around everything. For now, all I could manage to do was cry.