Chapter 6

"Nate," I hear someone whispering.

I slowly open my eyes and see Shane standing there in his full goth attire. I scream and jump back a bit, as I was expecting to see Jason and not… him.

"Nice to see you too," he mutters.

"Sorry, it's just that… You look so scary."

"Thanks. So," he continues, "is Jason going to be home tonight?"

"Uh… no."

"Or mom?"

"Uh… no. Mom and him coming back tomorrow." They left to go visit our crazy uncle in Saskatchewan. I would go, but I'm sick.

"Good." He starts to leave.

"Why?" I ask.

"Cause," he says, walking away. Then after like two seconds, he comes back in my room. "Oh, and Jason says to take some shit… Forgot what it's called."

I raise my eyebrows. "Flu medicine?"

"Yeah. That."

"Can you get it for me?"

"Uh… no…"

"Come on, Shane."

"Goddamn, get it yourself. You have two legs."

"Yes, but I'm sick." I cough a bit to make a point.

"Too bad." He makes this weird psh! noise and walks out of my room.

I lay there in a silent awe. Jason leaves for one day and this happens. I guess I'm not gonna be able to take my medicine, and thus die.

Great. I'm dead.

But right now, I'm too exhausted to think about dieing.

So I go back to sleep, only to wake up when I hear a very expensive vase falling and crashing to the ground, shattering in about a million pieces.

My eyes shoot up and I look up, only to see two teens in the corner of my room making out like I was invisible or something. I look over at them. "Do you mind?"

The two look over at me.

"Oh, dude," the guy says. "I'm sorry. We thought you were dead."

They leave my room.

They thought I was dead?

Ha. Wow.

I hear music blaring from down stairs, so I head down there, slowly. You know I still feel like shit and walking through a teen party in my PJs might not be the best idea.

I go into the kitchen and see people on our island, snogging, and then I open the fridge. Hmm, last time I checked, we didn't have a beer keg in there. I get my flu medicine and push some people aside to get a cup. I fill it up with some orange juice.

Oh, gross. I hate flu medicine; it tastes like dog feces. And I only know what that tastes like because when I was five, Shane dared me to eat it. I down the disgusting liquid as fast as I can and drink some orange juice after it.

A kid looks over at me. "Dude, you here to crash the party?"

I look at him like he's crazy – which he probably is. "Uh… no… I live here." Freaky weirdo.

"Oh… That explains a lot."

"Okay…" I say awkwardly, putting my empty glass in the sink. I head back upstairs, but instead spot sight of Shane, so I go over to him. "Hi, Shane. Since when do we having raving teen parties at our house?"

He shrugs. "Well no one was home, and you were sick. Hope you don't mind."

"Umm, well I'm trying to sleep. How would you like it if you were sick and people were being crazy teenagers downstairs? Huh?"

Shane stares at me.

Then, someone comes up behind me. "I think someone needs a wedgie!"

"Huh?" I turn around, but it was too late.

Some stupid teenager picks me up – by my underwear – and I scream. He laughs. Then he picks me up. "Wow, you're awfully light."

"Wow, you're awfully stupid," I say.

"Catch!" he says to one of his mates. He then tosses me – yes, he tosses me – across the way and I land in someone else's arms. They both start laughing.

"Uhh, you might not want to do that," I say when I feel queasy.

"Why?" Douche Bag number two asks. He throws me back to Douche bag number one.

Then, my stomach does a flip flop and I throw up all over DB1's shirt.

DB1 gasps and throws me down on the ground. "Sick! That is sick!"

"You're right," I say, getting up. "I have the flu. Told you you shouldn't have done it." I go into the kitchen and grab a glass and fill it up with water. I slowly sip it, trying to get the vomit taste out of my mouth.

After I finish the water, I decide to head back upstairs.

Only too bad for me, right when I enter my room, I see two people sitting on my bed smoking, what appeared to be, pot.

"Get out," I say. I feel like Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls. That was a good movie.

Stoner guy looks up at me. "Yo. Want some?"

I let out a huff of laughter. "And turn out like you? No thanks."

I push the two intruders out of my room and try to go back to sleep. But I can't sleep. There are way too many people downstairs, and I also think there might be some people having sex under my bed. I sigh and flip over for about the millionth time.

I hear a knock on my door and then Shane comes in my room. He gives me a slight smile.

I turn over. "Shane, when are these people going to leave? I already feel like Hell and they're not helping."

Shane closes the door. "Look, Nate. Don't rat me out to Jason."

I furrow my brows. "Umm… okay."

"I bet of you, don't do it."

"Fine. I won't."

"Do you promise?"

"Sure."
"Pinky swear?"

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever."

"Good boy," Shane says, handing me a cup. "I got you orange juice."

"Thanks," I say, sipping it. I hear Vitamin C is good for fighting off infections.

"So… you just try to sleep and I'll be… places."

Shane leaves my room.

I sit there and drink my orange juice. Suddenly, I feel a bit less tired, so I grab my computer. I log onto AOL instant messenger and see that Caitlyn is on.

Nate Gray: Hi Caitlyn

Caitlyn Gellar: Hey Nate. What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be sleeping or doing whatever sick people do?

Nate Gray: Can't sleep.

Caitlyn Gellar: That's weird.

Nate Gray: What's weird?

Caitlyn Gellar: Oh nothing. I just saw the cops go by.

Nate Gray: Cops?

Caitlyn Gellar: Yeah. Someone's having a party down the street. Near you, I think. It must be pretty bad because a ton of people complained.

Nate Gray: Huh…

Caitlyn Gellar: Yeah. My mom was talking to our crazy neighbor. She said there were a bunch of crazy teens smoking weed over near you. Look out your window; maybe you'll see them.

Nate Gray: Yeah, I see them. Listen, I'm off to bed. It's past three. I just realized that.

Caitlyn Gellar: Okay, get well soon, my little poodle puff.

I put my computer down on the floor.

I don't want to know who's having this crazy party, nor do I really care. I try to go back to sleep, but then my eyes shoot open when I realize something.

I think the raving party is at my house.

Screw it. It's not my problem, anyway. I'm just the sick little kid, locked in his room. I try to go back to sleep and succeed.

But then I get rudely awaken when someone barges into my room without even knocking first.

And shit, bitch ass motherfucker! It's the coppers!

I scream and hide under my blanket.

The cop comes over to me and yanks the blanket off of me. "Do you have weed or any other illegal substances in your possession?" he asks without even a 'hello.'

"What? No!" I say, shaking. "I don't even know what's going on! I've been sick in bed!"

The guy raises his eyebrows. "Uh huh, and tell me why I should believe you."

"Because I'm here in my PJs with an ass load of used tissues around me."

"Do you know what's been going on here?"

"Um, no. I already told you I was sick, sleeping."

The cop doesn't believe me, so he feels my forehead. "Okay," he says. "I believe you."

I play a confused look across my face. "Okay… goodnight then." I hop back in my bed. I feel the cop hovering over me, so I hack up a bit of shit for emphasis and he leaves.

WITHOUT EVEN SHUTTING THE DOOR.

I want to yell so bad, "CLOSE THE GOD DAMN DOOR!" but I don't. Instead, I get up and close it.

Right as I think I get some peace and quiet, Shane leaps into my room, and runs as fast as he can into my closet, closing the door and locking it.

"Hi," I call to him.

I get no reply. He must be hiding in my closet from the police.

My brother, the reincarnated Anne Frank.

When I finally doze off for a bit, I get rudely awakened – once again – by the cops.

I keep my eyes closed, however, and try to just sleep. Maybe if I sleep he'll go away.

Only the cop pushes me roughly out of bed and I fall on the floor with a startled gasp. I look up and this time it's a lady cop.

"Hello, Ma'am," I say politely. I mustn't forget my manners now.

"Are you holding any illegal substances here?" she asks.

"No."

"Well, some how I don't believe you, considering that every other person in this whole house was found with drugs." She comes over and basically gropes me, looking for any potential drugs.

I decide that it's way too late to be arguing with anyone and just let her finish feeling me up without a single word.

"He's clean," the lady calls out to someone else.

Then she leaves.

And the commotion all dies down within a few minutes.

The music stops, the people stop chattering.

I'm in an empty house.

I grab my cup of orange juice and drink it. Yummy, yummy, juice from oranges. How do those oranges do it?

"It's safe," I tell Shane.

Shane hesitantly opens the door and looks around, completely spooked.

"So…" I start. "Nice party."

"Look, I didn't mean for it to get out of hand like that."

"I'm sure you didn't."

I stand up and drink more of the juice. I tap my fingers restlessly on the side table. "So was it fun? Did you have an awesome time?"

"Well besides the whole police thing – yeah," he says, quite content with himself.

I sit down on my chair and bounce my leg up and down. "Well that's good. As long as you had fun." I pause for a second and then blow up in his face. "YOU IDIOT! How could you throw a drug party?!"

"Nate, you promised not to tell!"

I shake my head. "Shane, we got our house searched by the cops – I got searched by the cops. When I get searched for drugs, that mean's something's not right." I grab my cell phone off the ground. "I'm calling Jason."

"No you're not!" Shane says, attacking me. He grabs my phone from me and snaps it in half.

I gasp. "Good lord, Shane!"

"You're not telling anyone anything, got that?" Shane threatens, grabbing the collar of my shirt.

"Let go of me!" I yell.

Shane lets go of my collar and huffs. He goes down the stairs and opens the fridge.

I follow closely behind him. "What are you doing now? Getting more drugs? Are you gonna get high?" I ask.

Shane holds up the gallon of orange juice. "No, I'm drinking orange juice."

"Does that help with hang overs?" I ask.

He sighs. "Look, Nate. You probably won't believe me, but I don't do drugs."

"Hah!" I laugh. "Sure you don't."

"It's true," he says, pouring a glass of OJ. "I just sold the pot and ecstasy tabs – I didn't take any of it."

"Somehow I can't trust you."

"Fine. Be that way. But I'm telling the truth."

I sigh. "Okay…"

Part of me wants to believe he's clean. But part of me just can't trust him any more. I skeptically walk over and pour myself some of the orangey delight.

Shane and I stand there, leaned up against the kitchen island, sipping our juice. I, however, was sipping it much slower as I didn't want to upset my already-upset stomach even more. I grab some Saltines and eat those, trying to get my stomach to settle. I feel like barfing.

"So I'm sorry I didn't bring you your flu medicine this morning," Shane says.

I look over at him. "It's okay."

"No, I feel awful."

"Why?"

"Because you're my brother… and I care about you."

"You haven't cared about me in three months."

We both stay silent.

"Okay, you should probably go back to bed. You and your sick germs should crawl back upstairs, eh?" Shane says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you kidding me? All I want to do right now is…" I let a shiver race through my body. I don't know what caused it or why, but it was a warm shiver. "I kinda want to… run around in a circle."

I start screaming in the most annoying way possible and run around in a circle.

Shane joins me. We both run around the kitchen for a bit, but then I slip on something – I think it might have been my cat – and Shane and I go flying down to the floor, laughing.

"Get music," I say, hopping back up.

I pretend to pole dance with the wall, singing, "All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus!"

Shane turns on the music, only much softer than before, and we both start laughing like loons and dancing.

I dance like a madman and trip over a few times. Especially when the walls started changing colors and started moving.

I don't know what happened, but Shane and I ended up lying down on the living room floor talking.

"Let's play a game called whose life sucks most," I say.

"Okay," Shane says.

"I'll go first. Well, first of all, I'm sick with the flu. Secondly, I got drug searched. I'll tell you what, Shane, getting searched for drugs by a complete and total stranger sure was the cherry on top of an excellent day. Oh, and I think I might be madly in love with Caitlyn. Oh, and I don't think our walls are purple and pink, but they sure do look that way."

Shane lets out a huff of laughter. "I so just beat your ass. Here's why my life sucks more than yours: I got some chick pregnant."

"Who?" I ask.

"Ella."

"Ouch," I say.

"Fuck yeah."

"You so win."

"I know."

We lay there for a second, and I close my eyes, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

"Oh, and," Shane says, "Mitchie spiked the orange juice with ecstasy."

"And we drank it?"

"Yup…"

I burst out laughing. "That is… that's so great." I attempt to stand up, but fall backwards with epic fail.

"Anyway. I'm off to bed," Shane says, using the couch to get up.

That's when I pass out, letting the blackness engulf me.