Chapter Nine

George held on to Clear tight as she stumbled through the back of the woods towards the soccer field. "Sorry," she kept saying. "I just need to be... alone."

George nodded patiently as Clear collapsed on the grass with a groan. "Man, I blew it!" she slurred angrily. He knelt down next to her and held her close. It was like baby-sitting someone. Only this person seemed more vulnerable. He knew, despite Clear's wishes, that he would NOT leave her.

Clear layed back, her tank top riding up. George gazed at her stomach. "Clear!" he exclaimed, seeing the shiny stud in her navel, "What did you do?"

Clear swung her head from side to side. "That? I got it punched in!" She laughed at something and then layed back down. The air was freezing cold. George took off his thick hooded sweatshirt and covered Clear with it. "Thanks," she murmured. Then she lurched forward and puked.

George almost yelled. But he got up, bunched up his sweater, and watched as Clear fell asleep.

He watched her for a minute until he realized that it was creepy, watching a girl he liked sleep and snore. He picked her up, tried to work the vomit out of her hair, and carried her away to her cottage.

Clear was light, and she stirred in her deep sleep. When he reached the cottage, he nervously pulled her hair in an effort to wake her up. When she came to, she groaned. "Home already?" she whined hoarsly. George nodded and leaned to her.

"Just climb in your window and go to sleep. You need it." Then just before Clear limply grabbed the window sil, he leaned over and kissed her.

She kissed back.

Then it ended.

George closed his eyes, then opened them, seeing Clear in a new light. "Good night, Clear!" he called to her as she climbed up the window. She leaned out the window with a mischevious smile.

"'Night!" she called, shutting her window.

George stood there, long after she assumed he left. He still felt the kiss.

***

George and Tod crawled into their windows, calling to Alex, Carter, and Terry, who were all bunking up with them that night, to be in soon. Carter smiled at how everyone was taking him in like one of the gang after a screaming fit from Billy. Billy was also slightly drunk, and he was in the outhouse right now. So it was him, Terry, and Alex.

Man, Terry was hot. There was a little glow from her, but maybe it was just because she was so giggly.

"Carrrrrter," she said, mock flirtaciously, "Some party!"

Carter nodded in agreement. Terry found this hilarious, and turned to Alex. Looking at him like a deer looked at an oncomming bus, she smiled and said, "Alex, I need some alone time with Carrrrrter, 'kay?" Then, without a moment's hesitation, she shoved Alex off the roof.

Carter's eyes bugged and he leaned over, staring at Alex. Alex had landed in the garden, and didn't look too hurt. Just tired.

"I'm fine!" he called to the two, "I'm gonna go inside, now. Alright? Don't wait up!"

Terry giggled again. "Boy, he'll sleep tonight!"

Carter nodded in agreement with a smile. He might have been getting signals from Terry, but it might have been because she was a lightweight at the time. He didn't want to take advantage of her intoxication, but he went for it anyways. He skipped the arm around the shoulder, skipped the kiss on the neck, and went straight for the huge, full-frontal snog. Terry leaned back and took it. Soon, they were making out, when Carter realized he was getting REALLY dirty, making out with a girl who couldn't even see straight. So he smacked one last kiss and ended it.

Terry looked at him with fireworks in her eyes, and, just when Carter thought she would say something, she laughed instead.

Carter sighed. Then he turned away from Terry, looking to the side and saw... Billy. And he was fuming.

"Damn it, Carter!" Billy yelled, "Fuck! You were practically choking her with your tongue! What were you thinking? Jeez--Carter! You knew I liked her!"

'Actually,' Carter wanted to say, 'I didn't. But thanks for telling me.' Instead, he said, "Back the fuck, off, Hitchcock, she can kiss who she wants--"

"Actually," Terry said quietly, "YOU kissed Me. And--"

"I don't care, Carter!" Billy was ranting on, "You should have known I've always liked Terry, and... why the hell did you KISS her?"

Carter rolled his eyes. "Billy, I have TRIED since first grade to put up with you, but you're driving me crazy!" Then he punched Billy in the face.

"Stop it!" Terry cried, flying to Billy's side. Billy looked at her coldly.

"Whatever," he said hardly, trying to mask the pain in his face as he jumped off the roof and wandered into the distance. Terry watched sadly as Billy walked off. She might have been drunk, but she knew she had hurt the guy. And she knew she liked him, too. So what was stopping her?

***

The seven people woke up in three different places, with different feelings brewing inside them, different thoughts inside thier heads.

Clear woke up in the guest bed, half-under the cover, dazed and confused. She smelled puke on her breath. She felt the cool dew from the grass on her cheeks, even though she had been in her bed for eight hours. But most importantly, she felt George's kiss on her lips. And that made her smile through the blinding headache.

Terry felt Carter's kiss, too. And she still felt the revolt of his gross tongue, and how he was too agressive a kisser, when she woke up in Tod and George's room. She had never been kissed, but she had seen enough movies to know that he was NOT a swift kisser. She almost felt sorry for the guy. She was afraid to tell him--she was being like the Simon Cowell of kissing, here.

But Carter was an idiot. Kissing her, when she liked Billy. Okay, so she never told anyone besides Erica that she liked Billy... and she had never told Billy that either. And she had hurt him so much.

For Billy, the only thing that hurt more than seeing Terry and Carter kiss was the back pain when he woke up that morning. It was like his bones had melted. He woke up in a paddle boat on the wet sand. He stepped out into the water, sloshing some all over his socks.

"Ugh," he murmered, when he realized something smelled like piss. He licked his lips... aw, gross! There was piss on his face! What had happened!

He looked around frantically, seeing a large doberman taking a leak on a tree just feet away.

"You little shitface," he growled, dashing to the dog. Of course, in his tired state, the dog easily outran him.

Of course, looking at his watch, he realized he had slept through his first two hours of his morning shift. He wiped his face and ran straight to the tuck shop. Mr Baker looked annoyed as he served a few customers.

Billy skidded through the door. He tried to pretend like nothing happened, but that was impossible.

"Billy?" Mr. Baker demanded, shutting the window, "What happened to you?"

Billy attempted to control himself. "I was, uh, sleeping, and, uh..."

Mr. Baker sniffed. "From the smell of you, you were sleeping on a waterbed filled with piss! And... you're filthy! And you've got a black eye! And you're two hours late!"

"I can explain--" Billy began, wondering how in all holy hell he would explain anything.

Answering his prayers, an older girl knocked on the window. Mr. Baker slid it open. "What can I do for you?" he asked, disgruntled.

"Billy!" the older girl squealed, "You work here?"

Mr. Baker raised an eyebrow. "You know this clown?"

"He was at Mark Horton's huge bash last night. Omigod, you were 'larious! I've never seen a guy drink so much and still be able to sing 'Don't Stop 'Till You Get Enough' coherantly!"

Billy had to laugh, but Mr. Baker looked at him with rage. "You were at that drunken party last night?" he demanded. Then, not hesitating for a second, he opened the door. "You're fired, Billy."