Cuddle Application

2 - A Series of Unfortunate (Drunken) Events

I glared, reaching for my toothbrush. "You're an ass." I heard Lina laughing from somewhere below us, deep within in the polished mansion.

Pulling the knobs on the sink until water rushed into the basin, I cupped my hands and rubbed the cold water into my skin, which looked worse for wear. The bags under my eyes sagged drearily, and there was drool on my cheek. Gross. I dried my face quickly and rushed back into Cora's room.

"Sky," Cora said, but I hardly glanced at her as I grabbed my pillow and bag and ruffled through my backpack. I shoved incomplete homework back in folders and hauled out an old sandwich. Murmuring an "ew," I tossed it into the trash can next to the desk. The computer screen on the wooden surface blinked as an oddly familiar icon flitted in and out of focus. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Sky," Cora repeated, pulling me away from the computer.

"What?" There seemed to be too many things to do, and not enough hands to do them. I still had to get ready, eat breakfast, and haul all my bags out into the car — and who's car had we even driven here? I groaned at my brain and the cracks in Memory Lane.

Never going to drink again. Never going to drink again.

"You still got a little drool on your right cheek."

"Shut up," I snapped, trying to find some ibuprofen. My brain was melting.

Cora laughed again before saying, "I'll pack your stuff together. You focus on grabbing some breakfast." I nodded and headed towards the door.

Lina, Cora, and I had been best friends since the sixth grade. We'd all been forced by our parents to join the band program and started on the first day of school, all playing percussion. Lina had shown up first, looking like a Goody-Two-Shoes in her white, floral skirt and socks with ruffles. Then it was me, who had been too nervous to sit by anyone but the teacher. And last was Cora, who had showed up ten minutes late, sunglasses on her face and talking into a cell phone.

By the end of the first week, Cora had reached for my jacket, I'd punched her in the face, Lina had cried about it, and we'd all become best friends. I'd found a new seat in between Lina and Cora, and a new, unbreakable friendship in each of them. Eventually, of course, we had all switched to an easy gym class instead of suffering through any more failed music lessons.

"You know, girls, if you'd stop having sleepovers on Sundays, you wouldn't be so groggy for school Monday morning."

Sandra, the Creevy's maid and stand-in mother, piled pancakes onto my plate while scolding my friends and me. I grabbed the nearest fork and dug in, shoving syrup smothered pancakes into my mouth, one after the other. Lina and Cora watched me from opposite bar stools in awe.

"Staying up until four in the morning can't be good for you girls," Sandra said, her lips frowning, framed by the wrinkles that came with old age.

We all glanced at each other. The sleepover wasn't the problem, it was the hangovers we were all experiencing, something Sandra wasn't oblivious to. She'd learned to turn a blind eye to us girls whenever we raided the Creevy liquor cabinet or set of the smoke alarm with whatever substances Lina came to the party with.

Sandra had been with the Creevy family ever since Cora's father hit it big in politics. Since eight years old, we'd grown up with the help of Sandra, being taught Calculus, and pushing through the tough challenges of the teenage years. She was like another mom to each of us and had a significant impact on Cora's life, mainly because her parents were seldom home.

"I know, Sandy," Lina said, carrying her plate to the marble sink across from the counter. "But we started a tradition four years ago, and we just can't break it now."