“Oh that’s right. DD. Mind if I split for awhile? I’ll come see you later,” he said.
“Go. Have fun,” I replied, and started meandering through the crowd.
Gretchen grabbed my arm in the upstairs hallway.
“Taylor’s not here,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I asked.”
“Oh.” Asking never occurred to me. “Who told you?”
“Her friend, Carrie. She got sick last night. Food poisoning. So bad she actually had to go to the hospital.”
“Well, I’m sure Aaron’s disappointed,” I said.
“Yeah, poor Aaron,” Gretchen replied. “Dickhead.”
“I just got away from Cal,” I said.
“Okay. Not good.” Gretchen grew worried. “This party’s been going on since nine.”
I pulled out my cell phone. Eleven-thirty. How was it already eleven-thirty?
“It’s time to open some doors,” I said, and Gretchen nodded.
We made our way down the hallway—the longest hallway in the world, with about a hundred doors.
I heard muffled talk through the sixth door I came upon and pushed it open.
“Get the hell out!” Tim yelled, lying on top of a girl I suspected was Melanie.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I thought this was the bathroom,” I lied, trying to get a better look. She was awake but not altogether lucid. “Melanie?”
She turned her face in my direction, eyes out of focus, and grinned.
“That’s my name!” she squealed.
“Melanie, I’ve been looking all over God’s green earth for you!” I said, walking towards the pair. Gretchen followed me in. Tim looked irate.
“I thought I told you to leave,” he snapped.
“Will you get off of her, please?” I asked pleasantly. “Her father is pissed off ready to come over here with a loaded shotgun. She wasn’t supposed to come here tonight. Now either get off of her and let me take her home, or get your balls blown off a little later when Mel’s dad gets here. Your choice.”
Tim slunk off his obviously drugged date and sat on the edge of the bed.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, trying to pull Melanie up in a sitting position.
“Nothing,” Tim mumbled.
“Melanie? How much did you have to drink?” I asked.
She smiled stupidly. “My name’s Melanie.”
“I know,” I replied. “Now put your arm around my neck. We’re gonna help you out of here.”
“Where am I?” she asked, flopping her arm over my shoulder.
“A very bad place,” I said, and shot Tim a nasty look.
“What the fuck?” he asked.
I wasn’t planning on saying anything to him, but I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“She’s obviously drunk or whatever. Why were you on top of her?”
“Fuck you. Like you’ve never made out drunk?” he asked. He was defensive, jaw clenched, ready to do damage. I knew it was time to leave.
“Come on, Melanie,” I said, and Gretchen helped me walk her out of the bedroom.
We made it all the way to my car before the shaking started. Gretchen saw and took the car keys.
“I’ll drive,” she said.
I sat in the back with Melanie trying to comfort her, but I was a mess myself. Total fear. I’d never felt it before. I realized I was functioning on pure adrenaline the entire time I helped Melanie out of the house, and now it was gone, leaving panic and dread in its wake.
“You’re okay, Brooke,” Gretchen said in the rearview mirror. “Keep it together, and tell me where Melanie lives. Do not faint on me.”
I had come prepared. I recorded Melanie’s and Taylor’s addresses on my cell phone in case I needed to take them home and they were too drunk or drugged out to tell me where they lived. I didn’t actually think it would come to this. What if I had gone to the wrong room? What if I had burst in too late? What if the door was locked?
My body shuddered violently.
“Brooke! You are fine,” Gretchen said. “Breathe in and tell me the address.”
Right. The address. I was clumsy pulling out my cell phone, and I punched about ten wrong buttons before pulling up my notes.
“Twenty-six fifty West Moreland Avenue,” I said.
“Of course I have no idea where the hell that is,” Gretchen mumbled, and pulled over. She punched the address in her GPS then pulled back out onto the road.
Melanie’s house wasn’t far away, but it gave me enough time to compose myself and get the shaking under control. Both Gretchen and I walked her to the front door and rang the bell.
Melanie’s mother answered, gasping when she took stock of her daughter.
“Mommy!” Melanie said. “I love you so much, Mommy!”
“What is this?” Melanie’s mom whispered.
“Mrs. uh . . .”
“Graham,” she said, moving aside to let us in.
“Mrs. G, we were at the same party as your daughter,” Gretchen said. “We don’t know Melanie, but we saw that she was pretty wasted and thought we better take her home.”
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Graham said. “Oh my God.” And then Mrs. Graham lost it completely, bursting into a fit of tears while Gretchen and I stared at one another.