I open my mouth, but before I can reply, the door flies open and a couple of lower-sixth lads burst in.
“Houseparents incoming!”
Their voices are drowned by the music, but just seconds later, it breaks off.The others jump up, there are shouts mixed with panicky laughter; someone switches off the light.I go to stand up too, but I stumble sideways.
Shit.Sitting down, I felt reasonably OK but now...I don’t.Glass clinks on glass as I crash into bottles in the dark, and dizziness seizes me.Then a hand pulls me firmly aside.
20
Colin
I grab Olive Garden by the sleeve of her jacket and pull her along as the others run out of the old greenhouse, laughing hysterically.This would be my chance to chill here for a while and serve myself up to the teachers on a silver platter, but what am I doing?Getting Olive Garden out of the line of fire before they find her in her current state.
“What the hell?”Her tongue is heavy with alcohol.
“Shut up,” I warn her, pulling her through the door and shoving her behind one of the bushes near the greenhouse.
“You’re such a pain, d’you know th—?”
I press the palm of my hand over her mouth as I hear voices nearby.
Olive actually shuts up.Her face against my palm is warm, and my heart beats faster.I hurriedly take my hand away and stash it safely in my pocket.To stop it getting stupid ideas.Like touching Olive’s face, for instance.But why would I want that?
I glance around the corner and see the beam of a flashlight a way off, moving across the greenhouse, which is now dark anddeserted.My chance to show up and let the head finally throw me out of her school.But I don’t move.
I don’t know why I don’t run.Instead, I glance back over my shoulder.Back to Olive, who’s got down on her hands and knees and is no longer looking at me.Her breath is labored.
“Seriously?”I mutter.“Need to barf?”
She just makes a grim sound, then drops her head.
“I give up,” I murmur to myself, running through my options.
Abandoning Olive Garden the way she deserves and handing myself in to the night watch.They’d be sure to scoop Olive up too, and she’d be in big trouble.What the hell made her think it was a good idea to get this wasted?Was it some kind of pathetic power game that she actually thought she could win?I’m sorry, truly, but she really ought to have known that her tiny body can’t hold as much booze as mine.
God, she’s so dumb.And my stomach clenches as she starts to retch.
Fuck, Olive Garden...I totally don’t need this.I know what it feels like when the gall burns in your throat and for a moment you think you can’t breathe.
When I hear a muffled sob mixed with her gagging, I find myself automatically kneeling beside her.Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand’s on her back.And then I’m holding her hair while she spews into the bushes.“Hey, it’s OK, everything’s OK.”What am I saying?I don’t want her to think I’m pitying her.But she probably can’t even hear my words.Her slim body shakes, the trembling shoulders rise and fall.
Shit, she really can’t hold her drink.How embarrassing for her.But unfortunately for me, I care more than I’d like.
My jaw is tense, and my eyes are fixed on her white face.When it seems to be over, Olive Garden sinks to her knees.I pull her hard to one side before she falls into her own vomit.
“Breathe,” I order as she wipes her mouth with her sleeve.
“No, really?”she retorts, her voice weak.That she’s as impossible as ever is kind of reassuring.
“Shut up and sit down.”I press her down onto the grass and look around in all directions.The light is inside the old greenhouse now.Good luck with that—they’re not going to find anyone in there.“Count yourself lucky you barfed so quietly.”
“Get tae fuck, Fantino.”She groans, burying her face in her hands.
“Have you got the grace to be embarrassed?”
“What for?”
“I had to hold your hair while you threw up.”
