Chapter 3

"Take it easy, Courtney," Ginger insisted, taking away Courtney's half-spilt glass of wine. The latter giggled hysterically, as she leaned back against the wall, and slowly let herself slide down, until she was slumped on the stained carpet.

"Geez, how many glasses did she drink?" Miranda sauntered up beside them, took Courtney's glass from Ginger's hand, and polished off the wine.

"I'd say five, but she spilled half the last two, so probably four."

"Miranda!" Courtney beamed in recognition of her best friend. "Ginger's taking care of me!"

'Yes, she's taking good care of you, Courtney," Miranda said patronizingly, as though speaking to a child.

"I think..." Courtney attempted to stand, but she was too dizzy. "I think I'm going to be sick." She draped her left arm over Ginger's shoulders, and her right over Miranda's, then let herself be hoisted off the dirty floor. Halfway across the room, she threw up wine and hors d'oeuvres, not only all over herself, but the carpet, as well as Miranda's expensive shoes. At least, the carpet was already full of stains from when the Foutley's had lived here.

"Again?!" Miranda shrieked in hysterical disbelief, flashing back to the first time Courtney had thrown up on a pair of her shoes, back in junior high, when they were made to watch an educational film about puberty and childbirth.

"Oh, Miranda," Courtney sobbed melodramatically, "I'm so sorry! Please, don't be mad at me. You're my best friend!"

"It's okay, Courtney." Miranda sighed. "I'm not mad, okay?"

"Why don't you clean yourself up, Miranda? I'll put Courtney to bed," Ginger offered.

"Are you sure you'll be able to get her upstairs?"

"I'm not so dizzy, now." Courtney let go of Miranda, and shifted all her weight onto Ginger, who proceeded to half-carry her toward the staircase.

"Hey, Deirdre Hortense," Miranda, as always, called Dodie by the name on her birth certificate, "help me clean this mess!"

"Coming!" Dodie, exhausted by her dances with Chet, was more than happy to obey Miranda.

"Hey, do you wanna go somewhere more private?" Hoodsey wondered. "Wait, I didn't mean it, that way!" He panicked, when Macie raised an eyebrow at him. "Like, do you wanna get ice cream, or something? It's okay, if you don't. I just thought it'd be easier to talk."

"Well, I'm lactose intolerant," Macie reminded Hoodsey, "but I could really go for chocolate-vanilla swirl." She took his sweaty hand, and led the way toward the door. "Lets blow this popsicle stand."

"Oh, my God, did you see that?" Dodie's jaw dropped, and her eyes widened, as Miranda pointed in the direction of the front door, which Macie and Hoodsey had just walked out of. "Macie is totally gonna hookup with your brother."

"You're almost there," Ginger encouraged, as she walked Courtney to the bed, and pulled back its sheer, pink canopy, only to find a couple under the freshly washed sheets. "Get out!" Ginger demanded authoritatively, as though Courtney's room were still the former's own. The couple quickly threw back on the few articles of clothes they'd discarded, leapt out of the bed, and scrambled out of Courtney's room. "Ugh!" Ginger slammed the door, then proceeded to help Courtney remove her strappy heels. "Why even wear shoes, at your own house party?" By the light of the lamp, which had already been turned on, Ginger could see every aspect of the room that had changed, since Courtney had taken it over. It was quite a bit messier, since Courtney had grown up with maids, and was still rather lazy about cleaning, as well as every other brand of physical labor. Cute, yet affordable clothes were strewn across the floor, and sticking out of her overpacked dresser drawers. The ice cream wallpaper that once lined the walls, had recently been stripped, and the walls had been painted baby pink. The shelves were no longer lined with ponies, but framed photographs of Courtney with friends, as well as a single photo of Ginger, which stood out to the latter, who found it quite odd.

"Hey, Ginger," Courtney said, plopping backward onto the bed, "remember that time I stayed here with you, back when you lived here, but you didn't want me to stay any longer, so I asked my mother not to go on that trip?"

"Yeah...?"

"You said that someday you'd be ready to talk about it."

"Oh, right." Ginger nervously rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, this probably isn't the best time, Courtney. I mean, by tomorrow, you probably won't even remember—"

"Do you miss your father?"

"Um..." She felt a pang in her heart, at the very thought of Jonas. "Sometimes."

"I never miss mine anymore," Courtney admitted with a sigh. "You know, it's kinda funny... I rarely saw my father, growing up, but, now, that he's in prison, and I actually have to visit with him, I suddenly don't even want to. I mean, he was never really there for us, but we're supposed to suddenly be there for him? Oh, it's just not fair, Ginger!" Courtney sobbed into her pillow.

"I'm sorry, Courtney." Ginger patted Courtney's back.

"Will you stay the night with me?" Courtney sniffled.

"Okay, but let me clear all these people out of the house."

"Oh, just tell Miranda to kick everyone out by midnight, and hurry back."

In the hallway, on her way out of Courtney's room, Ginger ran into her younger brother, who'd just emerged from Blake's. "You'd better stay out of trouble," she warned.

"Or, what, you'll tell mom that you caught me at a party that you yourself shouldn't be at?"

"I'm serious, bro."

"Relax." Carl dismissively waved her off. "I'm just here to hang out with Blake."

"Where are you headed, then?"

"To check on Hoodsey," he explained. "He's trying to score with Macie."

"He already has scored with Macie," informed Miranda, with a wide grin. Beside her, Dodie wore a horrified expression. "They just left together."

"Woah, seriously?!" Carl's eyes brightened momentarily, then dimmed upon the realization that Hoodsey had just ditched him, without saying a word. Still, he was happy for his best friend. "I've been pushing him to pursue Macie, for years, but, now, that he finally has, I honestly can't believe it."

"Wait, years?!" Dodie's eyes opened impossibly wider. "For years, my brother has liked my best friend?"

"Since elementary school," Carl specified.

"Macie has liked your brother, since junior high," Miranda nonchalantly added. "She told me that in confidence, by the way."

"I need a drink," Dodie quipped, as she made her way back toward the stairs.