The Cascading Waves of Caden Lee

11

SCARLETT PARKER

Somehow along the way I had grabbed Vicky from a hallway, and now we're leaning against a stained hallway railing. The stairs are wooden, thankfully, because I'm not sure I could count on two hands how many drinks have spilt tonight.

Old 2010's hits blare throughout the stereo, and though it's far from that era by now, it still serves to rally up the dancing crowd below me, and for screams to echo throughout the foyer. Who's party is this? I feel bad for them.

Nicky sighs audibly as she pats her pockets and pulls out a red, chipped lighter, "I'm going for a smoke, y'wanna come?" She offers, shaking the lighter teasingly.

I grin, "Im good, seriously Nick, you don't need to supervise me all the time." We used to be way closer in primary school, but times have changed now, and I guess she feels that primal urge to care for me as her childhood friend. I can't say I'm not the same.

Her eyebrows lift momentarily but she shakes it off, winking and exiting the banquet in a flourish. Leaving me in the crowded, sweaty house and trying to enjoy myself. I would've been able to do so easily a few months ago, and I wish I still could, but now I find myself looking around anxiously. My breathing comes in heavy pants as the room grows smaller and smaller, and as I rush to find some sort of empty, calm space bodies crash into me from left and right.

Sweat slicks on my skin the longer I search, and eventually I come face-to-face with a closed bathroom door that looks promising. I don't even know what happened, it's like one second I'm fine and the next I'm gasping for air.

I throw the door open, pushing my body weight against it and sliding down onto the grimy floor as the earlier chaos grows into a faded memory.

Cough.

What? I glance up, alarmed, is someone in here?

My theory's confirmed when I spot a teenage boy leaned over the toilet, clutching his stomach and groaning audibly. Jesus, he looks rough.

I squint my eyes slightly as I hesitantly call out, "Uhm, are you okay?" Well of course he's not okay!

He coughs a little before glancing up through his hanging brown locks and smiling tightly, "Peachy." His tone is slurred, and he looks to be leaning heavily against the toilet. Confirming my earlier conclusions of him just being utterly shitfaced. 

I eye his hair, just barely hanging above the toilet bowl, and utter what I can only think of in the moment, "want me to hold your hair for you?"

He paused, snorts, then gestures to his brown, wavy hair, "shoot."

With a slight tilt to my lips I scoot over and gather his tousled brown locks into my hands, scratching the hairs away from his scalp and holding it as his cheek rests on the toilet bowl. "How'd you get here, Caden?" I ask, watching as his throat bobs and his brown eyes flicker up to mine.

"Just drunk too much, that's all..." he admits shamefully as another wave of vomit gurgles and spews from his body, me hurriedly gathering his hair tighter in my fingers.

"Must've drunk a lot for this to happen," I chuckle, leaning over to catch a glance of his sharpened face. His eyes flicker momentarily; slightly dimming before he coughs once more and leans back against the porcelain tub. Realizing he doesn't need me anymore, I lean back as well, letting his wavy locks roam free now that the strands won't be doused in vomit.

"Thanks." His voice has a post-puke rasp to it, but I don't mind. We've all been there. There's silence for a moment, and I almost consider getting up and leaving, but his voice stops me, "Why're you in here, Scarlett? You seemed kinda panicked."