I WAKE UP IN THE
middle of the night crying, and my first thought is, I want to take it back. I�ve made a huge mistake and I want to take it all back. Then I cry myself back to sleep.
In the morning, my head throbs, and now I�m the one throwing up in the bathroom, just like the girls at Beach Week, only there�s no one to hold my hair back. I feel better after, but I lie on the bathroom floor for a while in case another wave of nausea hits. I fall asleep there, and wake up to Kitty shaking me by the arm. �Move, I have to pee,� she says, stepping over me.
�Help me up,� I say, and she drags me to my feet. She sits down to pee and I splash cold water on my face.
�Go eat some toast,� Kitty says. �It�ll soak up the alcohol in your stomach.�
I brush my teeth and stumble downstairs to the kitchen, where Daddy is cooking eggs and Margot and Trina are eating yogurt.
�Rise and shine, little girl,� Trina says with a grin.
�You look like someone ran you over with a truck,� Margot says.
�You�d be grounded right now if it weren�t for the wedding,� Daddy says, trying to sound stern and failing. �Eat some scrambled eggs.�
I gag at the thought.
�First eat some toast,� Margot instructs. �It�ll soak up the alcohol.�
�That�s what Kitty said.�
Trina points her spoon at me. �And then, once you�ve put some food in your belly, you can have two Advil. Never, ever take Advil on an empty stomach. You�ll be feeling much better in no time.�
�I�m never drinking again,� I vow, and Margot and Trina exchange a smirk. �I�m serious.�
I spend the whole day in bed, lights off with the curtains drawn. I want so badly to call Peter. To ask him to forgive me. I don�t even remember everything I said. I remember the gist of it, but the memory itself is blurry. The one thing I do remember so clearly, what I�ll never forget, is the stricken look on his face, and it makes me hate myself for putting it there.
I give in. I text him. Just three words.
I�m so sorry.
I see the . . . on the other end. My heart pounds madly as I wait. But the reply never comes. I try calling, but my call goes straight to voice mail, and I hang up. Maybe he�s already deleted me from his phone, like he did his dad. Maybe he�s just . . . done.
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