A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long hiatus. I've been really busy these past few months. Anyway, I shouldn't keep you waiting. Here's chapter 23! It's back in April's POV, until mentioned otherwise. Enjoy! Don't forget to read, review, and share! Thanks. :)
CHAPTER 23: Puzzle Pieces
[back to APRIL'S POV]
I woke up with a splitting headache.
I slowly sat up from the bed, rubbing my eyes and then squinting through the brightness in the room. It was as if I hadn't seen the light of day for quite a while.
It did feel like that because I couldn't seem to grasp memories from last night.
Now sitting on the edge of the bed, I placed my feet firm on the floor and leaned forward, massaging my temples as I tried to reduce the pain and at the same time recall and make sense of the blurry and vague images I had in my mind. As my fingers moved from the sides of my forehead to my hair, I noticed it was really sticky. Only then did I smell the horrific scent of beer on my clothes, hair, and skin. Eugh. Did I really drink that much last night?
I carefully got up to go to the bathroom. I walked towards the open door, completely oblivious of my surroundings until I stepped out of the room and saw that the bathroom near my room wasn't where it was supposed to be. The headache and the confused flying mind of mine made me just stare at the bare wall for a while. It took a moment for me to get it. That was the only time I realized that this wasn't my house. And I wasn't in my room.
I went back to double check. And that pretty much confirmed it. I was in Rodrick's room. I slept in his room.
What the hell happened last night?
Trying to keep my calm, I walked downstairs to the second floor and entered the bathroom there. I spattered water on my face, patting my cheeks to force myself to remember. It was no use. I then dabbed water on my hair to wash off the stickiness and the smell, or at least reduce it. It worked just a bit, but I figured I'd have to take a bath to fully rinse it off.
My head was still throbbing as I went down the stairs. I looked for Rodrick and Greg because I needed answers. There they were, running around the house and cleaning up all the mess.
"Rodrick? Greg?" I called out.
"Oh, April! You're awake already!" Rodrick, who was running to the kitchen carrying 2 garbage bags, stopped abruptly in front of me who was still standing on the stairs.
"What's with all the rush?"
"Well," he went straight to the kitchen while talking, "Mom and dad and Manny are on their way home. They're gonna be back here in a couple of hours so we gotta make this house spotless!"
I followed him and stood at the doorway. "Hey, can you—wait. Why do you have black smudges around your eyes?
"Ugh dammit. Freaking eyeliner," he said, rubbing one eye with a hand, and then returning to what he was doing.
"Oh. Anyway, can you... tell me what happened last night?"
He momentarily stopped picking up trash from the floor and looked at me. "You mean you don't remember?"
"I don't remember anything."
"Anything at all?"
"I mean, the last thing I remember is... drinking iced tea. And then I blacked out. Just vague and blurry images that I couldn't piece together," I said.
The look on his face hinted something. But he didn't say anything. He went back to cleaning.
"Why? Did something weird happen?" I asked.
"You got drunk, that's what happened."
I walked closer. "Well, I couldn't remember anything and my head hurts like hell—obviously I got drunk, Rodrick!"
"Look. I can't fill you in right now, okay?"
"Did something happen that I needed to remember?" I kept asking while he continued with his business, moving on to quickly wash all the dishes in order to clear the sink. I was mostly just throwing out questions out loud, half-panicking. "Like why am I not at home? Why am I here? Why did I wake up in your room?" I gasped. A situation that was not highly possible, but possible nevertheless given the circumstances, entered my thoughts. "Did you and I… Did we...OH MY—"
"No! What the hell?!" He stopped what he was doing and looked at me with his typical what-the-hell face. "No way that would happen. Calm down, will you?" He continued washing the dishes, as fast as he could.
"Really? Thank God." I was quite relieved. "So nothing happened between you and me? Nothing at all?" I clarified.
"Uh... No. Nothing." He shook his head.
"Hm. Good. Okay." I walked back to the doorway.
He dried off his hands over the sink. All the dishes have been washed. That was fast. It was his adrenaline rush, I guess. "Care to help us clean up?" he asked. He picked up the bags of trash and walked towards me. "On second thought, you should clean yourself up first. You stink."
"I want to, but I don't have extra clothes with me," I said, stepping aside to let Rodrick pass through.
"You can borrow some of mine!" He hurriedly made his way to the back door to throw the trash.
"But—"
"Unless you wanna go home like that, of course," he said. Before I could even reply, he had already stepped out.
He was right, though. Then and there I remembered that my parents didn't know where I was. They're going to kill me, I thought. Worried, I went back to Rodrick's room as quickly as I could to check my phone. Surprisingly, there was only one missed call and a text message from mom saying: Hi April! I hope ur okay over there at Claire's. Call us in the morning. Love u!
At Claire's? I asked myself why mom thought I was at Claire's. I recalled bits and pieces of what happened before I blacked out last night. Maybe this was what Rodrick was talking about when he said my parents knew I'm okay. Hmm.
I called my mom and told her I'm okay and that I would text her if I'm going home already. After that, I rummaged through Rodrick's closet for clean clothes. It seemed like a miracle but yes, Rodrick did have clothes that were clean and didn't smell like rotten pizza. I actually found a towel, a pair of skinny jeans that fit me, and a shirt that looked a bit big on me, but a little folding would do.
I then took a bath in their second floor bathroom. I might have been in there for quite longer than I expected because the smell of beer on my sticky hair didn't get off so easily. I had to shampoo my hair and apply soap all over my body thrice in order to make sure that I didn't smell like beer—not even one patch. After that, I got changed to Rodrick's clothes. Then I wanted to brush my teeth. Luckily, I found a spare toothbrush in their medicine cabinet, just behind the medicine bottles and all those stuff. It was still in its packaging, which was dusty already. It might have been there for months. Anyway, I was glad I found one because there was no way I'm going to use any of the Heffleys' toothbrushes. That would be gross. After brushing my teeth, I threw the toothbrush away and then combed my hair.
When I opened the door, Rodrick was there. He was just about to go in. "You just finished now?!"
"Sorry. It was the sticky hair."
He shook his head. "Okay, move. I have to take this eyeliner off completely or mom will kill me." I stepped aside to let him in. Rushing, he took out a bunch of cotton balls from a container above the medicine cabinet, wet them with water, and started rubbing them vigorously over and around his eyes. He tried it a couple more times.
"That will only smudge it more," I told him. "Don't you have eye make-up remover or something?"
"No, I'm a dude!" he replied.
"Maybe your mom has one."
"How should I know?" he answered, still looking at the mirror.
I sighed and shook my head. I went back inside the bathroom, and placed my clothes and Rodrick's towel on top of the closed toilet bowl. "Wait here," I told Rodrick. Then I went to his parents' room. It wasn't hard to find the make-up remover because the make-up table was immediately visible from where I entered the room. It was just in one of the drawers.
I went back to the bathroom, where Rodrick almost finished the roll of tissue. "Here. Where's your cotton?"
"How'd you find it?"
"I wasn't too stubborn and lazy, like you. Now, hurry! Give me the cotton," I said. He did so, and I instructed him to face me and close his eyes. "Not too hard! Relax, okay?" I put some make-up remover on the cotton and used it to wipe off the eyeliner from his eye area.
Rodrick smirked. "I'm surprised you know this stuff."
"Hey, just because I don't wear make-up all the time, doesn't mean I don't know how to use it." I wiped what was left of the eyeliner near his left eye and then moved to the right one.
"Bet you're tipotoeing right now," he teased. Ugh, it's not my fault he's so tall and I'm so short! I didn't respond. He chuckled, knowing that my silence meant yes.
I smacked his forehead with the palm of my hand. "Stop laughing!"
"Ow! What was that for?!" He slightly opened his eyes.
"Shush! Do you want this done or not?"
He closed his eyes again and kept his mouth shut for the next couple of seconds as I finished removing the eyeliner on his right eye.
"Okay done," I said. He immediately opened his eyes and washed his face. I handed him the make-up remover and the cotton, and then proceeded to get my stuff. "You can put that back in your parents' room, right? Just in the first drawer of the make-up table!" I didn't wait for his response. I went back to the attic and left the towel on Rodrick's bed. I fixed my things so that if I had to leave, I'd be ready. I folded my used clothes and left them beside my bag because they wouldn't fit inside.
I went downstairs to see what was going on with Rodrick and Greg's house cleaning. The house was the cleanest it's ever been since I arrived yesterday. You'd never guess that there was a party last night. Well, it's almost clean. When I entered the living room, I saw Rodrick sprinkling pretzel crumbs on the rug of the living room.
"What are you doing? I thought you wanted the house to be spotless," I said.
"It would be suspicious if the house is too clean," Rodrick replied, glancing at me. Then he said to Greg, "Okay, let's go check the kitchen."
They ran towards the kitchen, and I followed behind them. On the way there we passed the bathroom door, and I stopped in my tracks when I saw it. "Um, guys? You haven't checked the bathroom door, have you?"
"WH-WHAA-HOLY F-!" Rodrick couldn't find the right words nor complete the ones he had in mind when he went back to see it.
Someone had written (in font size 250 or something like that) the words, Rodrick Rules on the door of the bathroom.
"Oh no. This is bad," Greg said.
"Ya think? Who the hell did this?! Did you do this, April?"
"What? No! Well, I don't know. But I'm pretty sure my handwriting's not that ugly." I replied.
Rodrick looked at Greg, implying that he was asking the same question.
"No, I was with Rowley the entire time. And I'm not dumb enough to write on our bathroom door!" Greg said.
Rodrick groaned. "Some stupid, drunk weirdo did this."
"Okay, we don't have time to think about who did this. We need to solve this problem real quick," I said.
"What do you suggest, genius?" Rodrick asked.
"Maybe we can paint over it," Greg suggested.
"I don't know how to make paint!" Rodrick was clearly panicking already.
"Dude, you can buy paint at some hardware store down the street," I said.
"There's no near hardware store here! We still have to drive 5-10 minutes or so."
"I have an idea!" Greg interrupted. Rodrick and I both looked at him. "There's another door in the basement. We can replace this one!"
"Yeah, I know there's a door there." Rodrick replied. "We have lots of doors in this house. You can't just remove one and then replace it with another—"
"No, Rodrick. I meant another spare door," Greg clarified. "One that's not attached to anything."
"Oh." Rodrick glanced at me as if asking if that's a good idea. I nodded once. Then he said, "Okay I'm good with that. Let's go get it."
They both rushed to the basement, while I made myself useful by checking the kitchen and other parts of their ground floor if everything was good to go and ready for the parents' eyes. When I caught a glimpse of Rodrick and Greg climbing up from the basement, I kept the door wide open for them. And yes, they were carrying an actual spare door.
"See? It's good I locked you down here." I heard Rodrick say.
"You locked Greg down the basement? That's so mean!" I told him while they got out. I then closed the basement door.
"He did. He locked Rowley down there too." Greg said. "Good thing mom called or we wouldn't be able to get out."
They put down the door and leaned it on the wall nearest the bathroom. "Hey, at least we've found a solution to our current problem, thanks to you," Rodrick replied, pointing at Greg. "Now, can we please focus on this?" He gestured to the bathroom door.
We all agreed to keep moving since Mr. and Mrs. Heffley, and Manny, could arrive anytime soon. Greg ran back to the basement to get their dad's tool box. Meanwhile, Rodrick told me to see if the other parts of the house have been cleaned already.
"I double-checked everything down here. All clean," I told him. "I'll check upstairs." I made my way to the stairs as Greg had come back with the tool box. I quickly checked all the rooms in the second floor, making sure to look under the beds and in vases. I also checked the picture frames if they were arranged well, the floor, tiles, and rugs, if there weren't any trash or smudges of vomit left. All were okay. In fact, I was impressed at how Rodrick and Greg managed to clean everything up and turn the house back to the way their parents left it yesterday—and they were able to do all that in probably less than three hours.
"All good up there," I said, and gave two thumbs up to both of them when I got back downstairs.
"Thanks April," Greg replied.
"How about outside? Front and backyard?" I asked.
"We've already taken care of that," Rodrick answered.
They had just finished unscrewing the original bathroom door from its hinges. They laid it on the floor and positioned the spare one so that they can attach it already. Greg held the door in place, while Rodrick connected it to the jamb, starting with the lower hinge. Both of them were shaking in panic. Greg kept asking if they were gonna make it.
While they worked on the door, someone had to hide the original one in the basement. I volunteered. "I'll try to carry this one to the basement."
"No!" Rodrick almost shouted, and it startled me. "That's too heavy for you. Greg, help her."
"But who's gonna hold the door?" he asked.
"I'm almost done with this bottom hinge… There!" He stood up. "Now go. Just hide it somewhere down there."
Greg let go of the door and stood across me so he could lift the other side of the door. Even with someone helping me, it was pretty heavy already. Rodrick was right. We went down the stairs carefully so we could avoid accidents. Once we were in the basement, I asked Greg where we should put it, since he was the one stuck here for a while last night.
"There, behind those old stack of chairs." He nodded his head to the wall across us. "That's where we got the spare door."
We carried the door over there and placed it upright behind the chairs. It was propped up against the wall, with its blank part facing whoever's in the room.
"Good." I clapped my hands together and breathed out. That door was heavy indeed. "Let's get back up there and help Rodrick," I said.
We both ran upstairs, closing the basement door behind us. We got to where Rodrick was. He was continuously cursing, his hands were shaking, and the screw kept falling on the floor. Greg picked it up and gave it to him the next time it fell. My heart beat fast as well and my insides were trembling. I also felt what they were feeling: panic.
"We're not gonna make it!" Greg repeatedly said. Pessimism had taken over him.
"We're gonna make it!" Rodrick retorted as he tried to be positive about this despite his frustration.
"Guys, I feel like they're going to be here soon," I said without thinking. It was the wrong thing to say, but that's what my gut was telling me.
"Thanks a lot! That really helps," Rodrick answered sarcastically. He groaned when he dropped the screw again.
I walked quickly towards the windows and took a peek through the curtains. As if on cue, the Heffleys car slowly came into view. "They're here!" I said, my voice shaking. I went back to them.
"Damn it! Ugh, one more time," Rodrick said to himself.
"Come on, Rodrick. Come on, you can do this." I said to him.
It took a moment… And he successfully did it! He swung the door with a smile of relief on his face—on all our faces actually. "Yes!" he exclaimed at a moderate volume. And then he hugged me.
I was taken by surprise. But I instinctively hugged him back.
The sound of the car's engine and the wheels rolling on the driveway grew louder. That meant that the other Heffleys were closer. It would only take a couple of minutes, and they'd be inside the house already. That sound, and Greg's "Hey!" snapped us out of the hug. We stepped away from each other.
Great. Another awkward moment on our list of awkward moments.
"I, um… I'll bring the tool box to the basement." I reached for it, but Rodrick stopped me.
"No, I'll do it." He picked up the box, and then continued, "They might see you here. Go upstairs now and hide in my bedroom, under the bed." He turned to Greg, "Go to the living room now." Greg did as told while I still stood there like an idiot. "What are you waiting for? Go!" he said to me. "I'll let you know when everything's clear!"
I ran up to the attic fast as I could. I hid under the bed just on time as I started hearing more voices downstairs. I took my things with me as well so that Mr. or Mrs. Heffley won't suspect anything wrong just in case they go up to check Rodrick's room.
I laid there for a while. I didn't know how long, but when you're just facing the bottom of Rodrick's bed, you'd feel like you were there for hours. I was miraculously still breathing despite the smell of I-don't-know-what-the-hell-that-is stinging my nose. Sure, his room generally didn't smell as bad, but under the bed was a different story. Anyway, as time passed, the people downstairs talked less. At one point though, I heard Rodrick's dad say out loud, "Hey, isn't there a lock on this door? Oh I must be losing my marbles." After that, I still heard their voices every now and then, but it was more quiet than when the other Heffleys arrived.
Soon enough, I heard footsteps which sounded like someone was going up the stairs, to the attic. The door opened. My first thought was, Rodrick. Oh, thank goodness. However, I saw the shoes of the person who entered and noticed that those weren't the black Chuck Taylors that Rodrick was wearing. I figured that the person in the room must be Mr. Heffley, probably looking for evidence of visitors in the house.
He walked around the room slowly and surely. I didn't move so as to avoid making any sound. My heart beat so fast because of worry and anxiety over the possibility that he might look under the bed. Suddenly, he stopped moving and was standing directly in front of the bed—his shoes facing my direction. I probably stopped breathing.
Oh no. I just realized that the towel I used was still on Rodrick's bed.
"Dad!" Rodrick called out from the door. I could see his shoes from my point of view. "What are you doing in my room?"
Mr. Heffley turned and walked towards him. That calmed me down a bit. "Oh. Nothing. I was just checking if any of my other figurines ended up in your room."
I heard Rodrick's "What? Why would I play with your toy soldiers in my—"
"They're figurines! Not toys. I just told you—Agh. Forget it." He turned sideways, half facing the direction of the bed again. "Is that your towel?"
"Yeah... I took a shower this morning. Wanna smell?" Rodrick took one step forward.
"Uh, no. I'm going to check on your mother and Manny now." Mr. Heffley had reached the door and Rodrick stepped aside to let him out. Once he had gone, Rodrick closed the door and began to walk towards the bed.
I, on the other hand, pushed my things from under the bed and then started crawling out. "Gosh. About time, Rodrick. I was rotting in here."
He knelt down and helped me up. "You can't go down yet," he said, his voice at a rather low volume. I dusted off my clothes once I got up already. "I think dad's still roamin' around the house."
"When do you think I can go, then?" I asked. A sound like a door closing made both of us look at the Rodrick's door. "I can't hide here forever," I whispered to him.
"I have a plan. Listen, I told Greg to signal me when everything's clear downstairs. I'm going out to check, okay?" He started walking backwards to the direction of the door. "Right now, I think you should get ready with your things, because when I tell you it's a go, we need to move fast."
"Got it," I replied. While Rodrick quietly went outside, I put my bag over my shoulder and carried my other things with me.
After a minute or so, Rodrick burst in the room. "Come on, let's go!" he whispered audibly, taking my other things from my arms.
We both went downstairs as fast as we could. We met Greg at the second floor, guarding their parents' room. He mouthed 'Bye' when he saw me. I waved as I kept going. Rodrick was behind me so that, according to him, he could look back and see if his parents would come out of their room. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I immediately turned to run towards the foyer.
Rodrick pulled my arm to stop me, and then he let go when I turned around. "No, if you pass there, they might see you through the windows. This way." He led me to the opposite direction. I started hearing footsteps upstairs, so I said nothing and followed him to the back door.
He opened it for me, and I stepped out. When he gave me back my laptop and my book, I turned, ready to run. But I stopped myself and turned around to face him. Good thing the door was still half open. "Oh, and Rodrick? Thank you… for this, and for letting me borrow your clothes."
"No problemo. Just return them, okay?" he said, smiling.
"Of course." I smiled back. "Also, one more thing. Could you please tell me everything that happened last night? Not now. Tomorrow, maybe? After school?"
His smile disappeared for a second, but I saw it again, though it looked forced this time. "Yeah, sure."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise. After school it is."
I smiled again before turning away from him, while he nodded once before closing the door. And then I walked briskly to my house.
When I arrived, my mom immediately gave me a big tight hug, saying she missed me because she didn't expect I'd spend the night in a friend's house. When she let go, dad asked me how our homework went.
"It… It was fine. We finished it." A lie, of course.
"That's good!" mom said. And then she noticed my clothes. "Honey what are you wearing?"
"Oh these? These are Claire's. She let me borrow clothes this morning."
"Claire likes punk rock?" she asked.
"Uh, apparently she does! A bit, I think," I said. Their faces formed a questioning look. "It's her other side. Her guilty pleasure, she told me. I didn't even know about it 'til this morning."
Convinced, mom nodded and dad turned his attention to the TV again. "Where are your used clothes?" mom asked.
Oh shoot. Only then did I realize that I wasn't carrying them with me when I walked home. I was such in a hurry that I probably left them back in Rodrick's room. "They're… here in my bag."
"They fit in that small bag of yours?"
"Miraculously, they did! There's not much things in here anyway. I rolled them so they could fit." I grinned. "I'll wash them later, don't worry."
I then headed to my room once my mom and I finished talking. I placed my laptop and book on my desk and then took out my phone. I looked for the unknown number that messaged and called me weeks ago, and then texted it:
Hey Rodrick, it's April. I think I left my clothes under your bed. Pls. give them back to me tomorrow. Thanks.
Not even five minutes had passed when I received a reply from him: Found them. Ok.
I lied down and heaved a sigh, letting my phone roll off from my hand to the bed.
. . . . . . . . . .
"I couldn't find you at the party," Claire said when I asked her during lunch time the following day about what happened on Saturday night. I thought she might have an idea because my mom thought I slept over at her place.
"That's because you were somewhere else in the house making out with Ethan," Olivia said as she arrived and sat beside me, placing the pasta she bought on the table.
"No, I wasn't," Claire initially denied. "Okay, maybe I was. But I did look for you, April."
"Yeah, right," Olivia commented. She then started eating.
"I did! I even stumbled upon Rodrick and he made me call your parents to tell them you were in my house. It was the hardest three minutes of my life," Claire said.
"Oh, that's how that happened. Thanks for lying for me," I said to Claire. Claire almost never lies.
"You're welcome. And then after that, I looked for you everywhere until Ethan found me." Claire went back to eating her salad.
"And I was the one who found you," Olivia said to me.
"Yeah, I think I remember talking to you, though it's still a blur because of the stupid alcohol," I replied. "So what happened when you were with me?"
"Crazy stuff." Olivia told me that I was halfway through my 3rd cup of Long Island Iced Tea when she found me. By that time she couldn't talk to me properly anymore. She described how I greeted hello to almost everyone, talked nonstop about the most random things, became so energetic that I tried to run with immense speed towards the door, etcetera, etcetera. My facial expression probably screamed disgust and disapproval the entire time Olivia was talking.
"She tried to be Buzz Lightyear on the stairs?!" Claire cracked laughing when Olivia affirmed it.
I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. "That's so embarrassing."
"And then she fell on Rodrick and called him cute," Olivia added.
I took my hands off of my face upon hearing what she said. "I did?!" No, that couldn't have happened.
"Oooohh," Claire teased. I shushed her.
Olivia nodded. "Yeah, you really said that."
"Ugh, this is why I try to avoid drinking as much as I can. I've got low alcohol tolerance." I shook my head. "Shouldn't have come to his house that day."
"Don't be so hard on him, though," she said partially chewing her food. She continued speaking when she had swallowed it. "I left you to his care. I had to go home early because my mom was looking for me."
"Well that sort of explains why I woke up in his bedroom the following morning."
Olivia and Claire both stopped what they were doing and stared at me.
"What?" I asked.
"So after Olivia left, you spent the entire night with him, and," Claire said and then lowered her voice, "you slept with him?"
"I didn't sleep with him!" I whispered back. "Look, I woke up alone in his bedroom. No sign that anyone else slept there. Then he told me that nothing happened. And I think he was telling the truth. And besides, now that I think about it, my mom knew I wasn't going home that night, because of the call, so arriving home drunk would cause me lots of trouble."
"Okay, I believe you," Olivia said.
I gestured to her. "Yes, thank you."
"But what happened when you were with him?" Claire asked.
"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you two."
"Like I said, I went home early, and Claire here was with her boyfriend." Olivia pointed at Claire, who then made a face that said, Okay no need to rub it in. "So we don't know your late night adventures with him."
Claire held back laughter when Olivia said 'late night adventures'. I glared at her for that. "Sorry," she said. "I guess you'd have to ask him, or other people who saw you at the party." Despite her annoying reactions, her suggestion made sense.
"Mae and Anne were at the party too. You can ask them," Olivia said.
"Right. I'll do that, thanks," I said to both of them. There was temporary silence. And then I asked, "Speaking of Mae and Anne, where are they?"
Olivia shrugged, and Claire said, "No idea."
. . . . . . . . . .
After being dismissed, students, as usual, poured out of the classroom. I caught up to Rodrick and walked beside him. "Hey."
"Hey. I'm assuming you brought my clothes," he said.
"Yeah. They're in my locker."
He nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, princess."
There he went again with the name-calling. "Don't call me that."
"How 'bout Prescott?" he said. I rolled my eyes. When he saw that, he raised both his hands in a surrendering position. "Okay, okay. You're so serious about the nicknames. I thought you're used to it already."
I shook my head, suppressing the urge to smile. "I hate you."
"I know."
Once we got to my locker, I took the paper bag out and gave it to him. He opened it to see if his clothes were there. "I washed those already," I said as I placed my unneeded books and notebooks inside the locker. And then I took what I needed, which was thankfully just one book. "You got mine?"
"They're in my van."
I closed the locker door, and then Rodrick and I walked to the parking area. He opened the door to the passenger seat, took a paper bag and handed it to me. I checked and it contained my clothes. "Thanks," I said.
"No problem," he replied. He waited for me to leave after closing the door. However, I remained standing there because we agreed to talk about what happened at the party. "Okay… I don't know what else you're waiting for but I think I'm heading home now." He took a step back, but I called his attention.
"Wait. You said you'd tell me what happened when I got drunk."
"Oh right. About that…" He scratched his head. "Uh, it's sort of a long story, and I've got a lot of homework for tomorrow so… Next time, maybe?"
"Rodrick, you're in all my classes. We only have one homework for tomorrow." I showed him the Math book I was carrying. "Please. I could only remember flashes, and something tells me that I really need to know what happened."
He tried to find another excuse. "Look, I. uh… I still have band practice later—"
"You promised." I couldn't believe he was doing this again. I fixed my eyes on him, giving him a look of disappointment. He looked away. "Turns out you're ditching me again." I turned around and started walking back to school, looking down at my shoes.
"Fine." I heard Rodrick say. I looked back and saw him opening the passenger door. "Get in." I did as told.
When Rodrick started driving, I held on for dear life, as usual, although his driving wasn't as reckless anymore as the first time I rode with him. He was about to turn on the radio when he saw me glaring at him for what he was supposed to do. He then said, "Okay. No music."
I started the conversation by just asking him directly. "So what happened after Olivia left?"
"So you started remembering stuff already," he said.
"No. I asked her and Claire during lunch."
"Then you should've let them tell the story. Why does it have to be me?"
"Because she left me with you, that's why."
"Okay. But just so you know, a lot of things happened that night, so I'm not sure if I can give you each and every small detail."
"Oh you know what I mean by spilling the details. It doesn't have to be super duper detailed, duh."
Rodrick started talking in a deep, dramatic voice with a British accent. "As I walked through the crowd of drunk and dancing teenagers, who were having the time of their lives, I—"
I laughed. "Stop!"
"What? I thought you wanted a story," he said in his normal accent, a stupid grin on his face.
"Your impression of a narrator is so dumb," I said.
"Don't insult my talent!" he replied in a British accent again. I laughed silently for a bit. Then he asked in his normal voice, "Before I continue, do you wanna grab a bite or something?"
"Yeah, sure."
We went to a nearby burger shop for a drive-through. After ordering, he drove to wherever. I didn't know where we were going but he started talking about what happened so I didn't bother to ask. We ate while he talked, and I was, from time to time, laughing at myself, commenting, shaking my head, or covering my face upon hearing the embarrassing things I did.
He started by mentioning some of the things Olivia told me already, like how he confirmed I was drunk. "...Then you fell over me after you tried to do that Buzz Lightyear thing, got my shirt and hair wet because you spilled the water, and then you said… some stupid stuff."
I knew what happened during that moment because Olivia had already told me about it. I don't know if he intentionally left it at that. "Like saying you were cute?" I asked him directly to confirm if Olivia wasn't just messing with me.
"Ha. Yeah, that. I took it as a compliment."
"Sorry about that. Haha, you're right. Stupid stuff."
Rodrick also told me about how annoying I could get because I wouldn't shut up and how the drunk version of me was like the opposite of me when sober. "You're so wild," he said, describing how overly energetic I was—saying random things, and dancing everywhere. And then he went on about the crazy truth or dare game—drink or dare, rather. Only then did I notice that we were already on our neighborhood street. By then I was just finishing my soda.
"What did they make me do?"
"Pour beer all over yourself," he said.
"And I did it?"
"Obviously. Why do you think you woke up smelling like beer?"
"Oh my gosh, that's so disgusting." I closed my eyes, hating myself for getting drunk and doing that. "I'm gonna vomit just thinking about it."
"Don't you dare vomit in my van!" he jokingly warned me.
"I'm gonna vomit just sitting here," I said. He scowled at me. "Just kidding. Don't worry. I don't have any plans to make your van more of a garbage than it already is." I gestured to the back which was still filled with junk.
"Whatever."
"Anyway... What dare did you get?" I asked, while we approached the front of the Heffey residence.
"Me? Uh... I think they..." It took a while for him to answer. It might have been because he was focused on parking the van, or maybe the dare given to him was as bad as some of the other dares. I waited for him to reply. And he finally did after the van stopped. "They, uh... made me eat a tablespoon of hot sauce."
I cringed while unbuckling my seatbelt. "Ew."
"Yeah," he replied. I sort of sensed that he was avoiding my look, but he was busy with the just-parked-my-car routine. After unbuckling his seatbelt as well, we didn't leave yet.
"And what happened after that? How did I end up in your room?"
He then looked at me and started counting with his fingers while he answered, "You puked, passed out, and then I had to carry you to the room."
"That's it? Nothing else happened like a sudden shift of emotions or something?" I asked. The last time I got drunk, my friend told me that I went from being sulky to laughing to crying dramatically because of... something.
It took a few seconds before he replied. It's either he was thinking if such thing happened or he remembered something. "Nah, that's it," he said.
"So I did vomit. Gosh, this is why I hate getting drunk. So much humiliating things happen."
He smirked. "I was actually surprised to see you drunk. You said you didn't want to drink alcohol."
"I know! And I really didn't want to. It was the stupid 'iced tea'." I did the quote-unquote hand sign.
"Who gave that to you anyway?"
"I was trying to remember yesterday, but my terrible headache-"
"Well you don't have a headache now, do you?" he said, sounding concerned all of a sudden. I shook my head. "Okay, maybe you can try to remember now," he added.
"Hmm." I tried to do so. I probably looked like an idiot by staring and then narrowing my eyes at the empty street for a few moments. I finished what was left of my soda.
"Think. You weren't drunk yet when you drank it so you'd most likely remember that. Maybe you accidentally switched your drink? Or maybe it was some unfamiliar guy flirting with you." That last bit made me look at him with a frown. He shrugged.
"No, no. I don't accept drinks from strangers. I'm pretty sure someone gave it to me, and it must have been someone I knew." I looked straight ahead again.
"A classmate? A friend?" He kept trying to help me remember.
"I got it." The mention of the word 'friend' triggered the memory. That memory, and the person who popped up in my mind sparked the feeling of betrayal and ignited a tiny fire of anger within me. "Anne. It was Anne who gave me the drink and told me it was plain iced tea."
Rodrick's facial expression turned the same as it was when he and Anne saw each other at the mall months ago. Though now, the hint of animosity was a bit stronger.
"Why would she do that?" I turned to Rodrick. "Do you think she did that on purpose?"
He shook his head and shrugged at the same time, eventually facing the road. "I don't know. Maybe. She told you it was just iced tea."
I leaned on my seat again, so both of us were already staring afar. "But... She's my friend. She..." I trailed off. Was she really my friend? "I don't blame her entirely, though. I kept drinking it anyway so it's partly my fault, I guess," I said, but I was thinking out loud, telling that more to myself than to Rodrick.
"Hey," he said, turning sideways to face me. I looked at him too. He pointed his finger at me. "You were tricked, okay? So I don't think it's your fault."
"Yeah. Maybe my mistake was trusting her."
Rodrick mumbled something. I wasn't sure what it was, but it sounded like, "You got that right." I asked him to repeat it but all he said was, "Nothing."
I decided not to linger on that anymore. I sighed. "Anyway, I guess I'll have to ask her about it when I see her at school." Rodrick nodded. I continued, "Thanks again, Rodrick."
"Don't worry about it," he replied.
We both got off the van, and before I crossed the street to my house, I reminded him, "Project on Saturday, okay?"
He whined. "Again?" Once he saw the annoyed look on my face, he laughed and said, "I'm joking! Sure. We can even start on Friday."
Well, that was surprising. "Rodrick Heffley, is that you?" I said sarcastically.
"Deadline's getting near and I don't wanna fail."
"Hmm... I see Mr. Heffley is starting not to slack off. A bit impressive." I tried to copy the voice of our English teacher.
"You suck at impressions." He teased.
"Ha. Like you're any good at it." I answered back. "Friday it is, then. No ditching!"
"Yes ma'am." He saluted.
"See you!" I started walking away. When I've already crossed the street, Rodrick was still standing beside his van. I waved.
"I'll have iced tea prepared for you on Friday!" he shouted from where he was. I knew he was going to use that against me as a joke.
"Oh shut up, Heffley!" I yelled back with a smile.