“It was nine seventy-five,” she says. That’s Annica Labrant for you, wealthiest one in our friend group but if you owe her a dollar, she will never let you forget it. Maybe that’s how her family stays rich.
“How about I buy you two Long Islands tonight and we call it even?” I suggest.
“But those are only four dollars,” she retorts.
Ridiculous, I think to myself as I let out a sigh. I pull out my phone to send her the money.
I met Annica on our very first day of college in Writing I, andwe did not hit it off. Her sharp brown eyes were almost always narrowed, sizing up the competition, and her mouth in a perpetual frown. But once you break through that tough, bitchy exterior, she’s actually a great friend. The kind that wakes up in the middle of the night to come get you from the campus jail, no questions asked.
Danielle Montgomery, the third to our trio, drains the rest of her margarita and sets it down with a thud. “You have some catching up to do, Sloane.” She clinks her glass to mine, a silentdrink up.
I take a long sip: half lime margarita, half sangria. My favorite, and I know Annica ordered it. She’s always good at that, remembering details.
My stomach turns when the icy liquid hits, in part from still being hungover, but also from the random guilt that comes over me when I think of Jonah. I tried to sleep it off after I got the news, but he was all I could see when I closed my eyes. What if he had left for the airport just a few minutes later? What if he was going just a little bit slower? Would it have made a difference? Or was it fated to happen? Somehow it just doesn’t feel fair that I get to be here drinking margaritas with my friends and he won’t see his ever again.
“Hello, earth to Sloane.” Annica waves her hand in front of my face.
“What? Sorry, I zoned out.”
“I said what happened to you last night? One minute you were at the bar and the next you were gone.”
“Yeah,” Dani chimes in. “We looked for you everywhere. You didn’t say you were leaving. I was worried.” Dani is always worriedabout something or someone. She’s been the designated mother of our friend group since the first night we all got drunk together freshman year.
“Oh, yeah, I ended up bringing this guy back with me, I think Nate or Nick, whatever his name is...” I trail off, taking a long swig from the straw. They both look at me expectantly, waiting for details. But the details won’t matter, because he wasn’t Wesley McCavern.
When I don’t give any Annica says, “Well?”
“Don’t leave us in suspense! How was it?” Dani asks. We aren’t a shy group; we’ll usually dish out the most intimate details of our escapades even in a public restaurant. Nothing is off-limits.
“Honestly I don’t remember. I think I blacked out.” I rest my head on my hand with a sigh.
Annica only blinks before diving into her night. “Well, I went home with that hockey player I was telling you guys about yesterday—”
“Is something wrong?” Dani asks me, ignoring Annica, who is now glaring at her for interrupting. “You seem... down.”
“I’m just hungover,” I say, swirling my straw around. I debate not saying anything about Jonah, but if I can’t shake this slump later, the two of them will know for sure that something else is up. “And my high school ex-boyfriend died last night, so that has me feeling, well, I don’t know, kind of sad, I guess.”
My friends are silent. Annica puts her hand atop mine with a frown. One table over, a birthday song breaks out in Spanish as the waiters crown the birthday boy with a sombrero. Disco lights flash around the room and music blares on the speakers. The whole restaurant is celebrating life and we’re talking about death with threejumbo margaritas in our hands. It feels ridiculous. So much so that I can’t help but laugh at the timing. Then I can’t stop laughing, even after the music cuts out. My friends look at me with concern, which makes it worse. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or the fact that I now have another buzz on top of the hangover, but I feel delirious.
“Are you having some sort of manic episode right now?” Annica asks, pulling her hand from mine. I can’t stop laughing to even reply. Annica looks at Dani. “Is she?”
Dani shrugs. “How would I know?”
“You’re a nursing major,” Annica says back.
When my laughing subsides, I wipe the tears that have formed and chug the rest of my drink, making my throat feel frozen and tight.
Dani leans in, one reassuring hand on my back. “Are you okay?”
I wave them off. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Annica asks, not convinced. “If you’re not up for going out again tonight we can just hang out at our apartment and watch a movie or something?”
Our apartment, meaning hers and Dani’s, and no longer mine. Again, one of the conditions of being allowed to come back meant moving out of our shared apartment and moving in with “a better influence,” as my mother put it.
“Guys, really, it’s fine. It’s our last Welcome Weekend—we aren’t sitting inside.” I force a smile, but I can tell I’m not selling it.
Annica signals the waiter to bring another round before turning back to me. “Does your mom know you’re going out this weekend?”
