Dylan had drunk and smoked. If at other times no effects were to deplore. This time, his body said no, bro, you're pushing too hard.
Yes, sometimes shit happens, and it wouldn't be shitty if things didn't occur when one least desired.
"Dylan, what the fuck, get up, bro," Dibbs said.
"Dylan, Dylan," Carly called and was about to shake him when Candy screamed, "don't touch him." Candy approached and knelt beside Dylan, "never touch or move an unconscious person.
"Yo, Candy, I don't want no drama. My parents are going to kill me if someone dies here."
"He isn't dead, is he?" Asked Carly.
Candy put a finger under Dylan's nose, "No, he's still breathing. It's the crossfading impact."
"The cross what?"
Candy rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe the group was unaware of the undesired effects of their every weekend practice.
"It means he's tripping," Rupert replied.
"No, he isn't tripping. Crossfading consists in drinking and smoking simultaneously. He's probably greening out," Candy replied.
"How do you know that?"Becky asked, earning herself a dark eye from Carly.
"Listen, it's not important. Dylan, can you hear me, Dylan?"
"Canㅡdy."
It was her voice; she was still there. The girl's voice was distant but reassuring. Everything would be okay if Candy was still there.
"Dylan."
The boy coughed, and out came the vomit.
Greg grimaced, "Shit."
"Gross."
Everyone stepped back.
"Hey, guys, we can't leave him in this position, help me sit him up," Candy said.
Carly shook her head, "you said we shouldn't move him."
"Don't be stupid. We can't let him swallow his vomit. Help me."
Candy's words had the opposite effect on the group, who took a few more steps back, but to her surprise, Shane stepped forward, "what do you want me to do?" The boy asked.
"He needs to sit up. Help me take him to the toilet."
Shane advanced.
"ㅡYo, get him out of here."
Candy turned to Greg, "he just needs to clear his stomach."
"He can clear it elsewhere. Look at the shit he has already made."
Candy sighed and stared at Shane, who shrugged and helped her get Dylan up.
In his haze, all Dylan sensed was Candy's presence. Her Lush American cream perfume invaded his nostrils.
The three left Greg's house and ended up at the bus stop further down the road.
"Thanks, Shane," Candy said as they both aided Dylan get I'm a position that allowed him to evacuate what remainders in his gut.
The take was an ugly one full of lumps of milk, the rest of the beans and sausages Dylan had for lunch in a horrendous blend of a murky brown substance.
Shane mugged while Candy took off her shirt to wipe Dylan's mouth. Shane couldn't believe that Candy preferred to sacrifice her shirt for Dylan's sake. The boy took off his hoodie to give it to Candy, who now only wore a tank top and parachute pants.
Candy took the sweater and was about to use it as a pillow for Dylan when Shane said, "ㅡit's not for him. It's for you. It's freezing; put it on." Candy had no time to assess.
"Go on, put it on," Shane urged.
The girl did as asked. She then took Dylan's head and rested it on her knees.
Shane shook his head in disapproval of the action. Seeing how the girl Dylan treated like shit nursed him blew his mind. It was too much for Shane, who decided to give Candy a piece of his mind.
"Hey, Candy, don't you think you've done enough for him already? You should call an ambulance or his parents or something."
No, Shane didn't understand Candy's behavior. A neighbor since primary school, Shane had always been around. Candy watched the scrawny boy gain muscle and become a promising outside center player in rugby.
Shane, aka the Speeding Bullet, became popular and hung out with the cool kids, but he still had something for the peculiar girl next door. The boy had taken a step back from the parties and focused on his school results as he thought about college and his success as a hopeful of the national junior rugby team.
There, at the bus stop, Candy couldn't guess Shane's presence at Greg's house was merely because he heard she would be there.
"Shane, you know he'll get in trouble if his parents find out."
"Tell me, what are you going to do then? ㅡSit outside and watch the sunrise while Sir Dylan pukes on your comfy knees?"
Candy shrugged.
"Stop it, Candy, stop being his puke pot."
"What are you talking about, Shane?"
"I'm talking about you acting like a servant. He doesn't deserve your attention."
"He's going through a lot of shit," Candy replied.
"How about your shit. Who's caring for you while you're at his back and call?"
"Ssh," Candy said as she put a finger on her lip to gesture silence.
"I don't give a fuck if he hears," Shane said, raising his voice, hoping Dylan listened. "ㅡHe's acting like an asshole. No matter how hard something is, one shouldn't take their frustration out on others or make those that care worry about their sorry arse."
"Shane, I'm sorry, but I'm too tired for a sermon."
Candy's pleas did not impact Shane, who pursued, "all things come to pass. One doesn't need a bible study to know that. It's common sense, and Dylan is lacking these days. You're never exhausted when it comes to him, and it's disgusting. You're smart, Candy. You have the example of what it's like to be with someone who only sees their reflection and not those around them."
Candy cocked a brow, she knew where Shane was going with his analysis, and she didn't like it.
"Your momㅡ."
"Shane."
Yes, Shane was going to the place that hurt. Candy hated when people spoke of her father, whether on good or bad terms. There Shane tried to remind her how self-absorbed her father was. The man was obsessed with his cuisine; he treated his family as though they were his kitchen clerks.
Shane sighed, "I'm sick of seeing you like this. I rather catch you with anyone else but him. You deserve better, you deserveㅡ."
The boy didn't have time to finish when Candy cut in with, "Someone like who? You?"
"Candy."
"What do you think I don't know? ㅡI appreciate the attention, but sorry, not sorry. I'm no better than Dylan, you know. I'm not especially the good girl you imagine. ㅡI'm so selfish that I don't give a fuck if people ignore me because I'm happy alone. I, too, only care about me, myself, and I. You know the saying birds of a feather stick together."
"Don't say things like that. See how this guy has you envisioning yourself. You can'tㅡ."
"I love him, Shane," Candy said, leaving the boy's mouth in open mid-sentence.
Candy looked down at Dylan, "Do you hear me? I love you, idiot." She then looked up at Shane, "Sorry, it's just how things are. Dylan isn't perfect, and perhaps he isn't the man of my life-" she smiled, "ㅡthe chances of that are pretty slim, but I just love him, shitty moods and all."
Her words had Shane fall into an abyss of silence. She profited from this to call Danny.
The fireman who had just finished his shift fumbled to grab his phone in his jeans back pocket, "Candy?"
"Hello, Danny; sorry to bother you, but can you come and get me?"
The man asked no questions. He just took the address, got in his car, and hurried to where she was. For Danny, it was simple. Candy needed him; his kid needed him. It wasn't about being a hero but showing Candy he was there like any father should.
Shane waited until Danny arrived. He wished to go home by his means, but Danny offered a ride.
Danny checked Dylan's condition before asking Shane to help him get the still-unconscious Dylan into the car. Danny didn't inquire about the who, what, where, and how; he had solved half of the equation just by whiffing the kids.
Silence reigned in the car until they arrived in their neighborhood, where Shane got off.
"Thank you, Mr.Cross."
"Shane, your sweaterㅡ," Candy yelled.
The boy didn't reply. He just shut the door and left.
Danny waited for Shane to pass his gate before parking in his driveway.
"Okay, I'll get him out. Just open the door for us and try not to make any noise. Your mom must be sleeping."
Thankfully Candy's mom was snoring deeply, thanks to her evening out with her friends.
Danny took Dylan to the bathroom, cleared up his face, and removed his clothes, "boy, you stink," the man said. He then dressed Dylan, who began to emerge in one of his old sweatpants and tees.
Once the bathroom was clear and Dylan was settled, Candy took a shower, followed by Danny, before they headed to their bedrooms.
"Danny, Iㅡ."
"No, worries, now get to sleep," Danny replied, anticipating the rest of the sentence. It wasn't the moment to scold. The man could only imagine how frightening the whole experience was for the teens. He hoped they learned the lesson and that Candy's mom and Dylan's parents wouldn't be too harsh. They were all kids once, after all.
Candy nodded and entered her room.