Chapter Nine
Word Up
The next time I see Patrick I'm on about my tenth or eleventh drink - or maybe even thirteenth. Things got a little mixed up after the fifth.
He grabs it off me and says, "Why don't you let me have this one?"
"No!" I reply, angrily, grabbing it back. I need it more than he does. I'm sure of that. "This one's mine."
I stalk off.
I see Patrick talking to Donner but I don't care. Everything's going a little hazy. The music changes, something with a good beat comes on. I climb onto the table. There's quite a crowd watching me as I start to dance. I see Patrick come in. He stands by the table, just watching me. He's not trying to get me down but he's not cheering either.
He looks - nice. Caring, all that. I wonder how bad his reputation is. I don't take much notice of other people's reputations. I have enough to worry about with my own. Anyway, Donner had a great reputation when we went out, and look where that got me. Giant steps backwards.
It's getting hard to concentrate. I stand up too quickly and -
I open my eyes. I'm in Patrick's arms. It feels nice, he's supporting me. I can't remember what happened, then I see the table and recall it.
"Are you OK?" he asks me. He's got a good voice, too.
"I'm fine," I say, stumbling to my feet. He lets go, and I immediately fall over again.
"You're not fine. Come on." He helps me out.
"I just need to lie down for a while, that's all."
"You lie down, you go to sleep." He's dragging me towards the exit.
"Sleep is good," I giggle.
"Not if you have a concussion." He sits me down on this low wall running through the house.
"We need to talk." Suddenly this geeky guy appears. I think his name is Cameron or Calvin - something beginning with C, anyway, he's Bianca's French tutor or something like that.
"I'm a little busy," Patrick replies.
"This is important," says the geek.
They walk off a few metres, so I can't hear them talking, although I do hear the word Bianca, and then Joey.
I see Patrick pat the geek on the back, then I feel kind of dizzy.
"Whoa!" Patrick catches me for the second time in ten minutes. I giggle.
"Come on." He starts to lead me.
"Why?" I ask, but I follow him anyway, up to the hill.
"This is so patronizing!" I shake off his arm, realising how.dependent I must look.
He laughs a little, "Trust you to use big words when you're smashed." He tries to put his arm back round me.
"I don't think so!" I shake him off again and go up the hill on my hands and feet.
"What are you doing this for?" I round on him as we get to the top of the hill, where there's a little trellis and a couple of swings. "You don't care if I never wake up."
"Sure I do!" he replies, taking hold of both my hands. "Then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me."
"Like you could find one," I mutter. As if! Well, OK, maybe there's one.
"There, you see!" He gestures. "Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?"
Blind's the word.
I fall over a little. "Are you OK?" he asks.
"I just.let me sit down a little, that's all." Patrick guides me to one of the swings and sits down. I immediately fall off the back. "Jeez!" He grabs me before I hit my head again. Three times in less than half an hour. Jesus, I am becoming weak, dependent and a follower.
Not to mention dizzy.
"So, why'd you let him get to you?" He sits down on the swing next to me.
"Who?"
"Donner."
"He's an asshole."
"Well, you've chosen the perfect revenge - mainlining tequila." He laughs - so do I. "Well, you know what they say." I feel hazy, like I just want to put my head down and sleep.
* * * "Kat, open your eyes!"
I open them slowly. The first thing I'm aware of is the sharp jolt of pain in my head, though it's cushioned by something holding my head.
Someone.
Patrick Verona is staring deep into my eyes. He looks worried.
I smile to let him know I'm OK. I didn't know he cared so much. It's kind of sweet, considering I haven't actually said anything nice to him yet.
"Your eyes have a little green in them, you know that?"
He smiles.I feel the tequila rising in my throat.
I throw up over his legs.
Oops.
He moves backwards - well who wouldn't?! and sits on the other swing, but he carries on holding back my hair as I defile Bogey Lowenstein's garden.
Guess he's gonna be real pleased about that.
Word Up
The next time I see Patrick I'm on about my tenth or eleventh drink - or maybe even thirteenth. Things got a little mixed up after the fifth.
He grabs it off me and says, "Why don't you let me have this one?"
"No!" I reply, angrily, grabbing it back. I need it more than he does. I'm sure of that. "This one's mine."
I stalk off.
I see Patrick talking to Donner but I don't care. Everything's going a little hazy. The music changes, something with a good beat comes on. I climb onto the table. There's quite a crowd watching me as I start to dance. I see Patrick come in. He stands by the table, just watching me. He's not trying to get me down but he's not cheering either.
He looks - nice. Caring, all that. I wonder how bad his reputation is. I don't take much notice of other people's reputations. I have enough to worry about with my own. Anyway, Donner had a great reputation when we went out, and look where that got me. Giant steps backwards.
It's getting hard to concentrate. I stand up too quickly and -
I open my eyes. I'm in Patrick's arms. It feels nice, he's supporting me. I can't remember what happened, then I see the table and recall it.
"Are you OK?" he asks me. He's got a good voice, too.
"I'm fine," I say, stumbling to my feet. He lets go, and I immediately fall over again.
"You're not fine. Come on." He helps me out.
"I just need to lie down for a while, that's all."
"You lie down, you go to sleep." He's dragging me towards the exit.
"Sleep is good," I giggle.
"Not if you have a concussion." He sits me down on this low wall running through the house.
"We need to talk." Suddenly this geeky guy appears. I think his name is Cameron or Calvin - something beginning with C, anyway, he's Bianca's French tutor or something like that.
"I'm a little busy," Patrick replies.
"This is important," says the geek.
They walk off a few metres, so I can't hear them talking, although I do hear the word Bianca, and then Joey.
I see Patrick pat the geek on the back, then I feel kind of dizzy.
"Whoa!" Patrick catches me for the second time in ten minutes. I giggle.
"Come on." He starts to lead me.
"Why?" I ask, but I follow him anyway, up to the hill.
"This is so patronizing!" I shake off his arm, realising how.dependent I must look.
He laughs a little, "Trust you to use big words when you're smashed." He tries to put his arm back round me.
"I don't think so!" I shake him off again and go up the hill on my hands and feet.
"What are you doing this for?" I round on him as we get to the top of the hill, where there's a little trellis and a couple of swings. "You don't care if I never wake up."
"Sure I do!" he replies, taking hold of both my hands. "Then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me."
"Like you could find one," I mutter. As if! Well, OK, maybe there's one.
"There, you see!" He gestures. "Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?"
Blind's the word.
I fall over a little. "Are you OK?" he asks.
"I just.let me sit down a little, that's all." Patrick guides me to one of the swings and sits down. I immediately fall off the back. "Jeez!" He grabs me before I hit my head again. Three times in less than half an hour. Jesus, I am becoming weak, dependent and a follower.
Not to mention dizzy.
"So, why'd you let him get to you?" He sits down on the swing next to me.
"Who?"
"Donner."
"He's an asshole."
"Well, you've chosen the perfect revenge - mainlining tequila." He laughs - so do I. "Well, you know what they say." I feel hazy, like I just want to put my head down and sleep.
* * * "Kat, open your eyes!"
I open them slowly. The first thing I'm aware of is the sharp jolt of pain in my head, though it's cushioned by something holding my head.
Someone.
Patrick Verona is staring deep into my eyes. He looks worried.
I smile to let him know I'm OK. I didn't know he cared so much. It's kind of sweet, considering I haven't actually said anything nice to him yet.
"Your eyes have a little green in them, you know that?"
He smiles.I feel the tequila rising in my throat.
I throw up over his legs.
Oops.
He moves backwards - well who wouldn't?! and sits on the other swing, but he carries on holding back my hair as I defile Bogey Lowenstein's garden.
Guess he's gonna be real pleased about that.