So, Mike walked home with me.
As Mike was getting ready to leave around suppertime, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I do really like you, Brittany."
"I'm not going to date you, but if you want to do this again sometime, I would be fine with that," I replied.
"I don't want to be just another notch on your bedpost."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means that I don't just want to be another guy you have sex with," he said.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not looking for a relationship. Bye, Mike."
Once he left, I thought about what he said about notches on bedposts. If I was planning on having sex with a bunch of people, I could make notches on my own bedpost to keep count. I dug around in my drawer for a pair of scissors. Then I walked over to the foot of my bed and started scraping at the post.
I'd had sex with three guys in my life, and, other than the first time, it had been enjoyable. If this was what would make me popular, I would definitely keep it up. I'd forgotten that my goal hadn't been to be popular in the first place.
Once there were three notches on my bedpost, I felt accomplished. I was sure I had more notches than most girls my age; I started to turn my number into a competition. I was at least 50% sure I was beating Santana, too.
I called her once I was finished.
"I slept with Mike," I told her.
"Good for you," she replied. "I slept with Azimio last night."
We left it at that.
Early February marked Regionals for the Cheerios. We boarded the bus after school on a cold Wednesday, and got ready to win.
I sat beside Santana on the drive; she took the window seat. The drive didn't feel so long with Santana. She had downloaded the list of songs I'd given her for Christmas onto her phone and shared her earbuds with me during the ride.
"If you girls don't win, I will end you," Coach Sylvester warned as we got ready for the competition.
"We will win, I promise," the captain, a senior named Lily said. And we did win. That meant we would be going to Nationals. For freshmen, Santana, Quinn, and I were very lucky.
Soon after Regionals, Valentine's Day came along. In some ways, I wished I'd waited to break up with Matt until after Valentine's Day, especially because I'd never gone on a Valentine's Day date before, but one of the junior Cheerios had planned a party for the holiday, so at least we wouldn't be alone.
Santana, Quinn, and I wore our uniforms to the party. It showed off our talent and popularity, and they were red which fit into the Valentine's theme.
As soon as we got to the party, we were offered alcohol. Santana didn't waste any time getting into a routine of drinking, so I joined her. Quinn left us to go find Finn, but I didn't notice. The more alcohol I consumed, the more I wanted to kiss Santana again, but I knew she would get very upset if I did.
Eventually, I threw all caution to the wind and stopped caring about what other people thought. I drank so much that I could barely walk straight, and then I went and got even more to drink from Puck.
"What are you doing?" Quinn asked when she came back with Finn, but I ignored her and continued drinking.
I took my Cheerios top off and swung it around. No one really cared, except for Puck and maybe Santana, but I didn't see her reaction.
Puck grabbed my wrist before I took off any more of my clothes and dragged me up the stairs to a bedroom. I wasn't sure if I wanted to sleep with Puck, especially because he'd recently slept with Santana, but I was too drunk to think clearly about what was happening.
I woke up with an awful headache. I could still hear music playing downstairs, so I knew that it wasn't morning yet and that the party was still going on downstairs. Even though I was under a blanket, I was cold. My Cheerios top was probably still downstairs and my skirt was lost somewhere too as I wasn't wearing any clothes. I couldn't remember what had happened, but I knew I could safely assume that I could add another notch to my bedpost when I got home.
I tried to get out of the bed, but I started puking instead. I felt absolutely awful.
"Brittany?" It was Santana's voice; she was upstairs, and I needed her to come find me.
I groaned as I vomited again, all over the floor. I felt guilty for making a mess of a practical stranger's house, but I couldn't stop myself.
"Are you in here?" Santana stepped into the room. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was there.
"Brittany! Are you okay?" She rushed over to me, not caring that I had puke on my body or that I was naked.
I moaned in pain as my head throbbed.
"My parents are gone for the weekend; you need to come home with me," she said. "Where are your clothes?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Do you need to throw up again?"
I shrugged again, so Santana said she'd be back as quickly as possible, and she left the room.
When she came back, she had my Cheerios top and my skirt that was right outside the door. "I can't find your bra or underwear, is that okay?" she asked.
I nodded as she tried her best to help me get into my Cheerios uniform. I knew it would be ruined after that night, but I was too sick to be embarrassed about anything.
Santana called someone with her cell phone, and then brushed my hair out of my face with her fingers.
"Do you want to rinse your mouth out before we go?"
I nodded, so she helped me to the bathroom where I rinsed the taste of alcohol and vomit out of my mouth before she helped me down the stairs and outside of the house. Everyone else was so drunk; they didn't seem to notice anything different about me.
When a blue car pulled up to the house, Santana dragged me into the back seat.
"Thanks for doing this," she said to the driver. He kind of looked like her; I wondered who he was.