Sophia groaned as she turned onto her side. Her head throbbed and she sighed, trying to relieve the pain as she opened her eyes. It took her a moment to adjust to the light in her room. Her mind was foggy and her head felt like it had been slammed against an anvil.
She was confused by the feeling.
She blinked a few times and slowly sat up in her bed as the memories slowly returned: the dance, Rachel dancing with her dad, finding the tray of champagne, taking her first sip ... but after that everything's hazy and, try as Sophia might, she couldn't remember past that.
Feeling disorientated, Sophia glanced at her bedside clock to see it read 12:15. She frowned. Her father never woke her up for church; seeming as though it was a Sunday. Something she found very strange. He always woke her up for that, no matter what. Maybe ... he took the Pierce family instead? The thought instantly made Sophia feel sour.
Nuclear bombs felt like they were going off in her head when she heard a few knocks on the front door. Groaning, she gingerly climbed out of bed. She will never drink again after this. She glanced downwards and noticed that she was still in her dress from the previous night, only now it was horribly wrinkled. Her gaze moved towards her bedroom mirror and she saw her hair sticking up horribly, along with the make-up smudges beneath her eyes, causing her to look even more like death than she already felt.
She sighed. Oh well, if it was those girl-scouts selling cookies again, at least they won't bother her for a good long while after this. Sophia held her head when the knocks resounded throughout the house once more.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she grumbled as she smoothed her dress and made her way down the stairs and to the front-door when the knocking continued.
She winced as her head throbbed. They weren't knocking that loudly, but it sure felt like they were.
"What?" she muttered irritably as she opened the door, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her eyes widened considerably when she saw Luke gazing down at her with a concerned look on his handsome face. "Oh ... hi," she said, suddenly nervous and self-conscious of her appearance.
"Hey," Luke greeted in return as he watched her.
Sophia bit her lip and discretely began raking her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to tame it. Her heart thudded in her chest and her head continued to throb.
"May I come in?" Luke suggested after a moment.
Sophia nodded after a moment's hesitation and opened the door wider to allow him to enter her house. As he passed, Sophia caught sight of the bag in his hand. Food. Her stomach gurgled at the thought, seeming as though she hasn't eaten anything for over twelve hours.
She glanced down at her appearance and, noticing a hoodie draped over the back of one of the leather couches, quickly tugged it over her body and followed Luke as he made his way into the kitchen. He began unpacking the contents of the bag.
"What ... are you doing here?" Sophia asked after a moment of watching him work.
"Your dad was at church today without you; said he let you sleep in. My mom figured you wouldn't come to lunch so I brought the lunch to you," he replied as he grabbed a plate out of the cupboard and began dishing up some roast meat and vegetables.
Despite Sophia's headache, she could still sense that Luke was acting a little off; almost distant. He still had yet to turn to face her while he spoke, as he popped the food in the microwave. Sophia bit her lip and slowly lowered herself down on a seat by the island counter.
"Were Susan and Rachel there?" she asked, her gaze flickering to Luke.
He shook his head as he retrieved a box of pills from the bag. "No."
Sophia blinked. She was surprised by that. She watched Luke get a glass and began pouring some water. It was so weird the way he was behaving. It was almost like he wasn't there with her, as though he was trying to avoid her.
"What happened last night?" Sophia questioned and she saw Luke pause.
"You ... don't remember anything?" he asked slowly, back still facing her.
"Only until my first sip of champagne," she replied and hesitated. "How did I get home?"
The thought of not knowing how she got home scared her. She hated not knowing what's going on around her. This is definitely the last time she ever drinks. She has no control if she does.
"You came home with all of us," Luke said after a moment's silence.
"Did I do anything ..."
She didn't quite know how to finish that sentence. Maybe she embarrassed herself in front of all those guests and that's why her father left without her this morning. A cold chill ran down her spine.
What did she do?
"No," Luke said after a moment of letting her panic get to her. "No, you didn't do anything," he said softly and turned to face her, forcing a smile on his face as he handed her two pills and the glass of water.
"Are you sure?" she asked and Luke nodded his head.
"Positive."
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It's been a week since Cole was expelled and ... I've definitely been better. I haven't been sleeping or eating nearly as much as I used to and neither has Dobey. He's lost quite a bit of weight and refuses to eat unless I hand feed him. It's apparent he definitely misses Cole too.
However, his lack of appetite worried because he's losing weight and he isn't as young as he was so trying to put it back on is another story.
School hasn't been the same either. Every time I walk through the halls, people give me a very wide berth, especially the boys, and I can't help but feel guilty - not for them though. I can't help but feel that it's my fault that Cole got expelled. I should've at least tried to stop the fight.
The rule of the school is if you are in a fight three times; you're expelled – if you throw the first punch. Cole had already been in two fights, which he both started (and one of them being because of me). Maybe Cole might've been able to stay if I had just stopped the fight in time because the fight was ... brutal.
It took five football players to get Cole off Jason, and still another to punch him in the stomach when he resisted. Jason was in hospital for three days and when he returned, it looked like he had been hit by a truck: two black eyes, broken nose, dislocated jaw and shoulder along with two broken ribs and internal bleeding.
Cole might've gotten away with a week's suspension or something because he was defending me, but Jason's parents had threatened to sue the school if Cole wasn't expelled. So Mr Robertson didn't have much of a choice with his nephew's future.
Amy has also basically become non-existent in my life. The only times I see her are in class and even then we completely ignore each other, not even greeting. At home things aren't going well either. I'm still not on speaking terms with my parents.
So, I was a bit surprised one afternoon when I was sitting in my dad's office and he knocked on the door before entering.
"Hey, Lizzy, would you mind fetching a part for me from a supplier of mine?" he asked and I frowned.
"By myself?" I asked.
Although I have my driver's license, my mom has a strict rule of me not driving by myself until I'm twenty-one.
"Yup," he said and held out the keys to me, along with a piece of paper with the name of the supplier and the part needed.
I hesitantly stood and took the items before making my way outside to my dad's car. I was a bit nervous of driving. I haven't driven since that time I fell down the stairs and cut my eye open; and that was about six months ago. My thoughts immediately trailed to the memory of Cole finding me and carrying me to my mom's car.
I shook the memory away sat inside, turning on the ignition before backing out of the driveway. It took me a few minutes before I started to relax. I've always loved driving, but with my eye I grew nervous that my depth perception or something might not be where it should. But I see now that I had nothing to worry about. I'm used to my new kind of sight now. Besides, if people with glass eyes could drive, I can definitely drive with a half-blind eye.
After a few minutes I arrived at the supplier and it took another few minutes for them to find the part my dad needed. Then I was back on the road. Now although I love driving, there is one thing I hate: when you reach the traffic light and it turns red.
I slowly tapped my finger on the steering wheel as I waited for the light to change. I wasn't really in a hurry anyway. Lost in my thoughts, I wasn't really paying much attention until I heard a familiar hum. My eyes flickered across the street and my heart stopped when I saw a black motorbike slow to a halt before the red light, and the rider placed a foot on the ground to steady it.
We were almost straight in front of each other and I felt as though my breath had stopped. It was difficult to see who it was behind the tinted hard plastic of the helmet, but my arms flooded with goose-bumps all the same.
The light changed but I didn't move, neither did the biker.
Was it Cole?
I shook my head. Probably not. My mind's just playing guilt tricks on me. I heard a hoot and, thinking it was behind me, I let out the clutch and pressed on the accelerator. I heard the hoot again and frowned, glancing behind me. There was no-one there. Then who was hooting?
I looked towards the front, now half-way in the intersection and I saw the biker look to his left before suddenly looking back at me and frantically waving for me to stop. I frowned and eased off the accelerator, but still travelled forward confused.
Only then did I make out movement on my blind side and I turned my head. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat when, in a split second, I realised that one of those massive freight-liners had run his red light, heading straight for me. I froze.
Lord, help me.
Those were the only words that crossed my mind before I was jerked violently to the side, a deafening sound filling my ears, before everything went dark.