An incessant beeping had kept Stacey up all night, making it hard for her to forget where she was. She had been placed under a light sedation, which was supposed to keep her under for the night. However, she had tossed and turned and at one point had woken up screaming. She opened her eyes from time to time, scanning the room to see if anyone was there. She half-expected to see her mother, or even Laine, but she was alone again.
"Hey, Sleepyhead," a strong male voice called out. Stacey rubbed her eyes, almost pulling out the IV still taped inside her wrist. She sighed to herself as she recognized Keith, the grief counselor.
"Get out. I told you before, I'm not speaking with you."
"Belligerence is good. You're progressing nicely through Kubler-Ross's stages of death and dying."
"Shuuuuut up," Stacey groaned. "Please, let me be alone with my thoughts."
"Well, I would, but I'm here to let you know that you're being released this afternoon. Your mom is outside doing all the paperwork."
"What time is it?"
"About nine at night. Time to go home and get some rest. Plus, you're meeting with me tomorrow morning."
"I'm doing no such thing."
"Sorry, but your mom made you an appointment. The best way to begin dealing with grief is to sit down and talk it through. I'm not trying to be a hardass here, but you need to meet with me for a while."
He strode towards the door and quickly doubled back, holding his hand out to Stacey. She refused to shake it. "See you tomorrow," he said, striding out.
Stacey felt her stomach churn as she rolled over in bed. She was not ready for this quite yet.
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"So, you've been around here before, right Melanie?" Sam slurred.
"It's Mallory," she corrected him, smoothing out her shirt. Sam had put his arm around her shoulders, and she felt warm and uncomfortable. Her hair was frizzing in a giant poof, and she was itching to write these events down in her notebook. Still, she kept her cool.
"Join me," Sam offered, gesturing towards the small bag that he had laid out on a patio table. Mal looked nervously towards the door, hoping foolishly that someone would come outside. But the party was carrying on indoors, rather loudly, and Mal was sure that no one knew she was outside with Sam.
"I couldn't," Mal said.
"I know who you are. You're Kristy's friend, right? I think she said you wanted to be a writer."
"I do, but..."
"This will open your mind so much, Mallory. Give it a shot, you'll see."
Mal didn't buy the argument, but her curiosity was getting the best of her. If she didn't indulge, she would lose Sam's confidence. "Well, Shannon didn't seem too happy with you, and she's my friend."
"She's not your friend. You don't have any friends here."
"Sure I do...the BSC, Shannon, and I know a lot of people inside."
"Oh, Mallory. If you could have heard the things that they have been saying about you for years. Let me be your friend tonight," he leered at her.
Mallory was infuriated. The BSC, speaking badly of her? They'd get theirs. She grabbed the baggie from Sam's hand and quickly began to pour the powder out.
Sam smiled at her. "Hello, Mallory."
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Kristy was having a great time with Claudia and Mary Anne. They'd sat side by side, gossiping, for most of the evening. Mary Anne's new look had been attracting attention all night, and the girls had had to redirect hordes of guys who stopped by to say hello. However, as Alan approached Claudia, she stood, whispered quietly in his ear, and snuck out of the room with him.
"What's going on there?" Kristy asked, her mouth full of chips. She quickly washed them down with beer and smiled at Mary Anne.
"Hmm...no idea."
"I'm glad your here," Kristy slurred. "It's like the old days. I almost wish Dawn was here, and Jessi, and everyone else. Maybe we could have a meeting."
"Oh honey, that would be great, but you know that's not going to happen. Besides, don't you like things better this way? You have free time, and friends, and you can enjoy the full high school experience."
Kristy pushed her beer towards Mary Anne, who refused. She may have changed her look, but she wasn't about to begin drinking. "Mary Anne, I miss you already. I don't want you to go away."
"Kristy, I'm not going anywhere," Mary Anne comforted her, stroking her hair.
Kristy smiled at the kind gesture. This was so like Mary Anne, always there for her. She was about to say something, when a rush of vomit filled her throat. She turned away quickly, vomiting quietly into a large planter. "Oops," she said, wiping her mouth.
Mary Anne sighed and helped her up. "Let's go get you cleaned up." She realized that overall, this wasn't much different than a BSC meeting.
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Janine drove slowly towards the library, making sure to make a careful three-point turn away from the Brewer-Thomas house. She was a diligent driver, always making sure to signal for turns and pay attention to any possible accidents. Using basic physics, she occasionally calculated the damage that would occur if two cars crashed. She could do the math, but stopped before imagining any harm done to people.
The lights cut out slightly as Janine turned the corner. She blinked, then considered pulling over to clean her glasses. However, there was no one on the road, and Janine quickly calculated her odds of getting into an accident. "Slim to none," she told herself as she pulled her glasses off and cleaned them quickly.
She didn't calculate the odds of one Stoneybrook resident spending most of her afternoon at the bar. She didn't count how many margaritas one might have over the course of three hours, nor how these drinks interfered with the anti-anxiety medications this patient was already on. As Janine drove the speed limit, she didn't even see the other car barrel around the corner, nearly side swiping a parked car. Nor did she feel the other vehicle striking her car, inevitably breaking her glasses anyway. She slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious, as the other car sped away.
In the other car, Sharon laughed shakily and continued to drive. She narrowly avoided another car and headed home. "I can't wait to see my girls," she thought to herself.
These odds, of course, were ones that Janine never could have calculated.