Perfectly Imperfect 1

18- Hangover

KAYLA:

I moodily slammed my books on the table, earning me a few glares from some of my classmates who were startled. I didn't care, and couldn't care less. Slouching in my seat, I tried to close my eyes to get some sleep. Unfortunately, though, it was impossible. Students around me were talking, somebody was listening to his or her iPod at maximum volume, and the pounding of my head chased away any sleep I might have gotten. At that exact moment, Lizzie shuffled in, her eyes bloodshot, her face pale. I was surprised that she could even get out of bed. Seeing me, Lizzie made a beeline towards me, grabbing the vacant seat next to me.

"Oh, Kayla, I feel horrible. I swear I'm never gonna drink that much again. My head hurts, I feel nauseous, my hands are cold, I feel like everybody's swaying around me and COULD YOU GUYS JUST PLEASE SHUT THE HECK UP??!!"

The room suddenly became quiet. Only for a while though. After recovering from the shock, like a tidal wave, the class slowly started to talk and titter away. Lizzie groaned, pulling her hoodie up to cover her face, looking at me expectantly for some sympathy.

I merely raised my eyebrows.

"Oh."

Lizzie stared at me dumbfounded.

"Oh? Is that all you're going to say?"

"Well, what do you expect me to say then?" I said testily.

Lizzie goggled at me. "I don't know, some words of sympathy, maybe? H-ello, I'm on my deathbed here!"

"Oh, stop exaggerating Lizzie!"

Her eyes flashed angrily, but her face betrayed a look of hurt.

"What's up with you? Why are you being so dang cranky? You're not the one with an ear-splitting headache!"

"And how, pray, do you know that?"

"'Coz you're such a prude, that's why! I doubt you have even drank a sip in your entire life! Geez, here I was, trying to make you feel welcome, but you just had to act all high and mighty didn't you? Playing the freaking angel, rescuing Cal, not joining our games! And now you're acting like a beach to me, when I didn't even do anything!"

I snapped at the insult.

"You didn't do anything???" I spat. "Did you know that because of you, and your stupid party, Cal got so drunk he couldn't even walk straight? Did you know that I had to literally drag him all the way out your house so my brother, who, thank god was at home, could fetch us both back? Did you know that we had to sneak him in to avoid our parents? Did you know that the whole night, I couldn't sleep, because I kept hearing Cal scream in his sleep?"

"Well its not my bloody fault that he chose to drink so much!!!"

"Bloody hell, Lizzie, we're 17!!!" I screech. "We're underage! There wasn't even supposed to be alcohol at the party!"

"You're such a prude! Everyone drinks!"

"And that's an excuse is it? Because everyone drinks anyway, why not serve alcohol and let everybody get so drunk! If it weren't for me, god knows which street Cal will be lying on right now! And what the hell was the game for anyway?! What are you guys, playboy girls in training?!"

"Cal Cal Cal! Why the heck must everything be about him? What, are you in love with him or something?"

"Don't make this personal, Lizzie. My feelings have nothing to do with this. It doesn't change the fact that you could have killed somebody yesterday, Lizzie!"

"Oh so you do like Cal?" she screeched, her eyes wild.

I ignored her question. "Are you aware, Lizzie, of how many teens die behind the steering wheel everyday because they were drunk? Has it ever occurred to you that more than half of your guests last night drove there? That people can actually die from having too much alcohol in their blood? Did you consider all that, before buying all that drinks, and playing that stupid drinking-slash-sl*tty game? And how the heck did you buy all that alcohol anyway? Do you have a fake ID?"

"STOP LECTURING ME! SHUT UP!"

I was aware that the class had suddenly became very quiet, 30 pairs of eyes watching the drama excitedly. I could even see handphones recording everything from my peripheral vision.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," I said quietly. "Just think about it."

And then, as an afterthought, I added:

"And no, I do not like Cal. You can have him. Shallow people go together anyway."

---

I slammed the door, the sound venerating in the empty house. Great, nobody was home. I could finally get some much-needed sleep.

"Kayla?"

Shoot. I'd forgotten about Cal.

Ignoring him, I ran upstairs into the privacy of my room. Not bothering to change, I threw myself on my bed and closed my eyes. Soon, though, I could hear the pounding of footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Kayla?"

No answer.

"Kayla?"

"Kayla, wake up!"

Angrily, I sat up, pushing the covers off me.

"What. The. Heck. Do. You. Want, Cafferty?"

Cal reeled in shock. His hair was tousled, there was a spit of vomit on his shirt, and he stinked like anything.

"I- I'm sorry, I... Uhh... Are you okay?"

That really did it.

"YOU FREAKING WELL KNOW I'M NOT OKAY!" Cal flinched. "HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY WHEN I COULDN'T EVEN SLEEP LAST NIGHT THANKS TO YOU??!"

"I- I'm sorry, Kayla. I really mean it. It's just that... I needed some pick-me-up, I've been going throu-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! DON'T GIVE ME THAT EXCUSE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE? YOU SOUND LIKE AN ALCOHOLIC, YOU KNOW THAT??? STOP BLAMING IT ON YOUR PROBLEMS, JUST STOP. NOBODY ASKED YOU TO DRINK, NOBODY FORCED YOU TO PLAY THAT STUPID GAM-"

"Amy did," Cal said quietly.

I gaped at him, disbelieve etched across every single frown on my face.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, CAL! EVEN NOW, STANDING IN FRONT OF ME, YOU'RE TRYING TO BLAME IT ON SOMEBODY ELSE? DON'T YOU HAVE A BACKBONE TO STAND ON?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. When I spoke again, my voice was trembling, trying to hold in my emotions.

"I'm just so disappointed with you Cal." I paused. "With myself too, actually. I really believed that I had found a decent, well behaved person I could actually call my friend. Someone who I can trust, who I can respect, who would be there for me if I needed him to be. Last night, though, was a much needed wake-me-up call." I laughed humorlessly. "You're just like them, Cal. You're one of them. Weak, too weak to face his problems, willing to make a fool out of himself just to fit in. Hey, if, instead of that game, they'd ask you to throw eggs at me 'just for fun' you would have done it, wouldn't you?"

Cal didn't say anything. I swallowed a sob.

"Yeah, I thought you would. Listen, I may not know your whole story, what with your brothers and all..." I noticed that Cal's head snapped up when I had said 'brothers', but I continued on, emotionlessly, "... but you know what, I don't care anymore. Just leave, Cal. I'm tired." 

I turned my back towards him, and grabbed a pillow, facing the wall.

I was half hoping that Cal would say something, would beg me to hear him out, but he didn't. He just stood up and left, closing the door behind him. Soon, the front door opened and closed, too, bathing the house in dead silence.

Pulling the pillow to my face, I lay there and cried my heart out. Cried for the city I grew up in and had to move out from. Cried for the familiarity I had to leave behind. Cried for my utter patheticness in the family. Cried for Evan Cafferty, the little boy who had problems so big, it drove him to kill. Cried for my unableness to fit in here. Cried for my little sister, who was so perfect, I couldn't help but be so jealous of. Cried for my parents, who never seemed to be able to be happy with the way I was. Cried for the way I had snapped at Lizzie. Cried for the way she had looked at me, hurt and anger all over her face.

But most of all, I cried for Cal Cafferty, the friend I once thought I had.