“Don’t…” she pauses for a difficult swallow, her voice hoarse. “Please don’t tell my uncle.”
“Solana,” I say. “New Year’s Eve was one thing. This… this is another.”
“If you’re going to snitch, then… then I’ll stay. I’ll just go back inside, and you can forget the ride.” She sits back in the passenger seat and crosses her arms defiantly, an almost petulant pout blooming across her face.
Though it seems she would prefer if I didn’t snitch and just agreed to give her the ride, she’s fully prepared to follow through on her threat. She’s stubborn enough that she’ll hop out of the truck and march right back into that house.
…where herfriendswould be inside waiting for her.
The thought makes every muscle in my body clench. It makes my hand ball into a fist in my lap. I’m not even sure who I’m angry with or who to blame for the state she’s in, but I damn sure won’t be letting her return to that house.
Even if her claim about falling is true.
Clearly her friends didn’t give much of a damn if they let her sob and sit outside in the cold. If she hadn’t meant to even sleep over in the first place.
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll give you the ride. I won’t tell your uncle or brother. On one condition.”
She sniffles, chancing a quick glance over at me. “What?”
“I don’t want you going around those people again. I don’t care if they’re your friends or if what you say about falling and ripping your dress is true. They’re not good for you. Stay away from them. Got it?”
She thinks on what I’ve proposed, then shakes her head in answer.
“And no more underage drinking.”
“But—”
“No more underage drinking, Solana,” I say firmly, holding her gaze captive. “You had too much to drink last night, and it’s a dangerous game to play. Especially for a girl your age.”
She reluctantly nods.
“I need your word, Solana.”
“Okay,” she mutters. “I won’t… I won’t do it again.”
I twist the key in the ignition and restart the engine. Within seconds we’re leaving the small house behind, heading for the road that takes us out of Wheaton and puts us on the path for Pulsboro instead.
We ride in silence.
Me thinking on the promise I made to her about keeping this from Big Eddie and Moses.
Something tells me she’s having similar thoughts—she’s thinking about how she just told me she’s done seeing those friends and drinking underage.
Neither of us have any way to make sure we keep our promise. We both could be lying.
I can’t pretend I’m not conflicted. Big Eddie and Moses would want to know about this; they would probably have a similar reaction to mine, protective instincts emerging at the mere sight of her. But what would it accomplish when she insistsnothing happened? She claims she got too drunk and fell and then accidentally stayed over her friends’ house?
Deep down, I’m aware there’s more to the story.
Her behavior couldn’t corroborate this more. Even as we’re on the road, riding in uncertain silence, she wipes at her eyes and sucks in shaky breaths.
More than once I’m close to pulling over. I outright ask her if she’s sure she’s alright.
“Yes,” she warbles out. “Just… I’m so embarrassed.”
I glance over at her again, a pang of sympathy and guilt hitting me at the same time. “Don’t be. Everybody’s had a night or two where they had too much. The more important thing is that you’re safe and unharmed and that you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Have you ever… has it ever happened to you before?”
