I Spun the Bottle

I Spun the Bottle: Chapter Twenty-Four

I Spun the Bottle: Chapter Twenty-Four

Song for this chapter: “Fall” by Ed Sheeran

     For the next couple of days, I felt like poop.

     Not only did I feel like poop, but I kept thinking about missing school and the consequences it would bring.  Missing a day meant missing class. Missing a class meant missing homework. Missing homework meant doing more homework when I got back. So, missing three days of homework meant a homework pile equivalent to height of the Empire State Building.

     I just couldn’t wait to get back to school. Not.

     After a long, somewhat-convincing speech to my parents (and Landon), I had finally persuaded them to let me go back to school the next day. It really was hard work to convince them though, seeing that I looked like a herd of elephants had trampled all over me. The little, hand-marked souvenir that Taylor left on my face a few days earlier seemed to blend in well with my sickly rosy cheeks at least. So my parents didn’t seem to notice too much. A few times though, I did catch my dad staring at my cheek, exactly where the welt was left. He acted as if he wanted to comment on it, but eventually decided against it.

     In some ways, having the flu wasn’t completely bad. It gave me time to think. That’s what I needed. I needed to know what I was going to do. David’s offer was very tempting, but making him go against his girlfriend—even if she wasn’t the nicest person in the world— wasn’t right. If I let him help me, I’d feel selfish and guilty. Oh and what if Taylor ended up catching us? What would happen then?

     I grimaced. Nothing good, that’s for sure.

     I stared hopelessly out of the passenger’s window. My forehead was pressed against the cool glass, helping me calm down a little.

     “How’re you feeling?” Landon asked, breaking the silence.

     I looked up at him. “For about the millionth time, Landon, I’m fine.”

     He gave me a slight eye roll and replied, “I still don’t think you’re ready for school. Why can’t you just stay home one more day?”

     “I’m seriously fine, okay? I hate missing school. You know that. And why’re you so over protective?”

     “I’m your brother. It’s my duty. And with you being so reckless recently, someone has to watch over you.”

     His comment pricked a nerve. “I’m not being reckless!” I retorted, defensively.

     For a moment, he took his eyes off the road and looked at me. He looked almost shocked. “Are you serious? When you got home from that party a few weeks ago, with a sprained ankle, and not to mention you came home with a guy so early in the morning, I let that slide because I thought you were just trying something new.” He breathed to level his voice, realizing that it was increasing in volume. “But what are you getting into? You don’t talk to me anymore. You hardly say anything to our parents. And then you come home with a fucking welt on your cheek. And you expect me to just act cool with it?”

     I glared at my brother. He was starting to treat me like a kid, and I didn’t need that right now. Without a second thought, I opened my mouth. “J-Just shut up! Don’t treat me like a baby because I’m not! You spent your high school life partying, so why can’t I live a little? I’m fine! I don’t need you breathing down my neck every time I get home. You aren’t mom. So just leave me the hell alone!”

     Once the words started, I couldn’t stop it. The words flowed like rapids, slicing and drowning everything in its path. My voice trembled with rage. I already had enough on my plate. I didn’t need a nosy brother in the equation too.