Wrecked

by Rachel Hanna

“Don’t worry about me, Little Addy,” she cooed in a chipper voice. “I’ll be just fine. And I’m not going to forget the important things. Any of them.” She gave me a little nudge and we laughed.

  The walk to Haverly was short and in the early fall, late summer months, it was even enjoyable. The trees made it a beautiful walk and the old buildings made it feel like we were almost walking through the past or something. Even now, cold as I was, I could admire the beauty.

  California was all kinds of beautiful, but so much of it seemed plastic—shiny, new, and strangely alluring, but not the natural beauty I saw here.

  I didn’t know how to explain it to the people who were from here, like Kass, but it made me want to take deep lungfuls of fresh air and clear out my insides.

  As we headed home, we chatted about our classes that day. I had all except one today, making it my busy day, while tomorrow I would only have two—one of which was a self-defense class. But Kass’s schedule was noticeably light this semester. Other than English Lit and French, all she had was Art and her Ethics class.

  “How was Art?” I asked in that haughty tone that mocked her weenie choices this semester.

  She didn’t even bat an eye at the bait. “It was awesome. Our professor said that we could start drawing the human form soon.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “You know what that means.”

  I laughed at her, imagining a hot, studly model posing naked for them. Then I imagined a three hundred pound man with man boobs and so much fat that his… well, his privates remained private. “Ew.”

  Kass glanced at me in surprise. “Ew?” she repeated as a question, clearly shocked. “I’m talking freely staring at hot naked guy for like an hour and a half three times a week and you say ew?”

  Shaking my head, I explained to her the image that flashed unbidden through my mind.

  “Ewww!” she confirmed, making a disgusted face and shaking her head. “I hope you know that I will never be able to erase that image now. Never!”

  I laughed. “Good. Then we’re even over the whole Professor Gerald shaking his booty for the camera.”

  Kass was mid-cringe when two boys—just shy of identical in appearance—strolled up to walk on either side of us.

  “Hey there,” said Mark with a grin. “How are our favorite lovely ladies?” He wrapped his arm around Kass’s shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze.

  “We’re good,” she answered, smiling back and batting her eyelashes prettily at him. “Just talking about the wonder and beauty of the male form.”

  I laughed out loud as Mason shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”

  Grinning, Kass shook her head. “Nothing. An inside joke.”

  The brothers looked at each other over the tops of our heads and shrugged their shoulders. Turning his attention back to me, Mason nudged my shoulder. “How was the Marketing class today? I heard it was brutal.”

  I groaned, letting my head fall back a little. “It was awful. People on speed can’t stay awake in his class! At least, not until he calls on you to answer a question which has no answer and then proceeds to tear apart your response.” Huffing I asked, “How can they let sadists teach?”

  Mason laughed. He had taken Professor Anderson’s marketing class last year, so he knew exactly what I was going through. He also had kept his detailed notes and had helped me go over them more than once over the course of this semester. “They’re all sadists in one way or another,” he explained casually as though we were talking about the weather. “It’s just a matter of how obvious they are about it.”

  Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but smile. “Good point.”

  “Are you ladies headed home?” Mark asked both Kass and I from the other side of my friend.

  Kass nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night—” Her simple statement had both boys cooing and teasing before she even finished talking. We had to digress into a whole recap of her French-kissing study session.

  “Wish I had taken French,” Mark muttered, sending a wink my way.

  I laughed at him. “No you don’t. You’d never have made it through the hacking and gagging long enough to get to the tutoring hot girls part.”

  He shrugged noncommittally, though I could tell he agreed.

  “Did you want to come over for a movie tonight?” Mason asked quietly as Mark and Kass digressed into a conversation about the pros and cons of taking French, which digressed further into talking about whether or not French women were better lays than American.

  I thought about it briefly—tonight was one of those nights that I dreaded going through, especially alone. But last year’s movie distraction attempt hadn’t had the results I had been hoping for and I was hesitant to try it again this year.

  Ultimately, I gave him a smile and shook my head. “Nah. It’s been a long day for me and I’ve got some homework to get through still. Think I’ll do that and crash out pretty early.”

  He gave me a funny look, but then shrugged and said, “Sure. No worries. I’ll take a rain check.”

  I nodded. “Absolutely. Pick another movie night, and I’m there.”

  A smile spread across his lips. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  The twins walked us all the way to our house, even though we told them we would be fine on our own—we had been walking to it for over a year now. We said good bye at the door.

  When we got in, Amanda was sitting in the living room poring over some ridiculously huge medical book and Jason was scrounging around in the kitchen for dinner.

  I didn’t know where the other four were and didn’t much care. Although we were all on friendly terms, none of us—save for Kass and I—were really friends. We got along and stayed out of each other’s way. That was enough to keep the house going smoothly.

  “Hungry?” Kass asked me as Jason found what he wanted to eat and piled it high on his plate. He left the kitchen for his room, where he would lock himself away for the next few hours probably.

  I shrugged. I was starving, actually, but my stomach was roiling with knots and unease. The last thing that sounded like a good idea was food so I lied smoothly, “I brought something to Ethics with me and had it on the way to meet you. Not really hungry again.”

  Kass nodded at me and pulled out some leftovers marked with masking tape. She pulled up the corner of a lid and gave it a sniff. Deeming that it was acceptable for consumption, she popped it in the microwave and gave it a few minutes.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to go over some of that damn Marketing homework,” I added, before she could ask me if I wanted to hang out for a while. “It’s going to kill me and I’m not waiting until last minute to do it this time.”

  Facing me, she grinned. “This is why I’m not a business major.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have a major yet. Even Dreana declared.”

  Kass folded her arms across her chest and gave me a look. “I don’t think Gen Ed really counts as declared.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Whatever. I’ve got homework.”

  She waved just as the timer for her food went off. I headed directly for the stairs, going to my room. Plopping my stuff down, I pulled out my books and spent the next two hours trying to focus on Marketing—trying to focus on anything, actually.

  Anything that wasn’t the sound of waves crashing in the night.

  With a sigh, I called it quits around eight thirty and got ready for bed. I pulled on a loose t-shirt that was too low cut to wear in public and a pair of boy shorts. Pulling my hair up into a bun on the top of my head, I pulled back the covers. I crashed against my pillow, pulling the covers up to my chin to snuggle down into the warmth. My eyelids were already heavy, despite how early it was, and I was grateful to call it a night. Some days were worse than others and while I had managed to keep pretty focused today, I knew what tonight was and I knew I didn’t want to be awake for much of it.

  Last year, I had tried a movie marathon with
Kass and the twins, but it had fallen through. I’d had to excuse myself to the kitchen twice—for “more popcorn”—and the bathroom nearly three times, whenever I felt a bout of tears rounding the corner.

  In the end, it was a relief to call it a night.

  This year I had decided the best route was to do nothing and focus solely on the normal. I had managed it throughout the day, but now it was night and I didn’t want to be left to think of anything. Sleep, I hoped, would overtake me and I could slip into happy oblivion.

  Some warm milk and melatonin even gave my body a little push. I stared at the burnt sienna color of my wall for only a few moments before my remedies worked and I nodded off.

  I was grateful, until the dream pulled me under.

  The water was freezing, but I didn’t care. We were laughing like maniacs, half consumed by booze and half by the adrenaline that comes from doing something we weren’t supposed to.

  Bright, blinding light washed over us and disappeared as the lighthouse shone out to sea, a marker for sailors and lovers and ghosts in the night.

  “Beck!” I shouted as a wave came over the top of me.

  I struggled and giggled and couldn’t figure out if I was terrified because the surface seemed so far away now, or thrilled by being in the water again, feeling weightless.

  Her blonde hair was tinged green by the water, floating gracefully in an almost suspended animation as I swirled and tumbled around in a strangely violent sea. All the while I laughed and laughed, bubbles leaving my lips to float up towards the surface—which seemed to get farther and farther away with every passing moment.

  Her eyes were dark and shiny, open and staring at me through the water. Her entire body floated peacefully, as though the sea around her was soft and gentle, despite the rage it threw at me, and there was the smallest smile on her blue lips, even as she mouthed the words that I dreaded.

  “Your fault.”

  I jerked awake, hand clenching around my night shirt right above my heart—which was pounding harshly in my chest.

  Your fault.

  I had hoped that tonight would be different. That the dream wouldn’t come and I could somehow… drift away from that night. But I wasn’t that lucky, and if I was honest about it, I probably didn’t deserve to be that lucky.

  There were some things no one should be allowed to escape from.

  Taking several calming breathes, I lifted a shaking hand to my hair, my fingers running through it at the roots to dig through my scalp. My bun had only about half-survived my tossing and turning and now hung loosely almost at my neck.

  I could feel tendrils of curling dark hair falling around my face and focused on them. I would have to straighten them again in the morning. The moisture—probably my own sweat—had gotten to them despite all the product I had put in to keep them straight.

  But the wild had to go.

  Twirling one finger around a particularly resistant curl, I realized my hand was still shaking.

  Today’s almost over, I reminded myself. I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning. “Or I guess it is over,” I muttered aloud to myself. Next to the clock, I noticed my phone. The screen had lit up and was displaying an envelope. One new message.

  Frowning, I reached over and picked it up, unlocking it to read the message. When I saw it was from my mother, I let out a sigh. What did she want this late at night?

  The message was short. Three words total, but as soon as I read them the color drained from my face. The shaking that I had managed to stop came back again with a vengeance.

  Miranda stopped by.

  I couldn’t deal with this right now. I couldn’t think about it. My head was so full of the dream, of the awful things that—

  No. I couldn’t do this now. I tossed my phone back on the nightstand and padded out of my room as softly as I could. I avoided the loud creaks in the staircase to keep from waking any of my six roommates and made my way to the kitchen. The only one I was really worried about waking was Kass, though. The others would be annoyed and tell me to be quiet, but Kass would know something was wrong. She would pry and demand to know, but I wouldn’t have an answer for her.

  Honesty wasn’t the best policy when it came to this.

  The floor was cold against my bare feet as I headed to the kitchen, moving around the island counter and going straight for the fridge. There was a bottle of orange juice in the fridge with my name on it (literally) and I was going to down a glass in an attempt to calm my nerves. But when I pulled the fridge door open, I saw the half empty bottle of Jack pushed to the back on the opposite side of my orange juice.

  My eyes lingered for a long moment on the bottle. Part of me knew it was a bad idea, scolded me for even considering it, but the rest of me was aching for a drink. I had gone nearly three years without one, but that didn’t mean the craving wasn’t there.

  Reaching my hand inside, I almost grabbed the glass bottle—but didn’t. With a sigh, I took my orange juice instead and poured myself a glass. I downed the whole thing like I was chugging a beer, then poured myself another glass. I took this one back up the stairs to my room, closing the door behind me. I spent the next four hours staring at the wall, repeating the text over and over again in my head.

  Miranda stopped by.

  Chapter 3

  I opened my eyes blearily to see a tall empty glass in front of me. Waking up slowly, I took a deep breath, yawning and stretching as I realized that I had fallen asleep at my desk super early that morning.

  I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after that dream—and the text message. The memory of it was enough to fully wake me up, and to make me wish that I was still asleep.

  Miranda stopped by.

  My mother hadn’t said anything else, probably because she was waiting on me for some kind of reaction or response. I considered texting her back and saying, “So? What does that have to do with me?” But I knew the answer to that and I didn’t need to hear it from my mother.

  The other questions I thought about asking her… well, I didn’t think I wanted to know the answers to them. “What did she say?” or “What was she doing there?” or “Why now?” all appeared in my head and they had been at the tips of my fingers as I stared down at the reply to text option on my phone last night. But ultimately, I had forced myself to put my phone aside and reminded myself that I had put that all behind me.

  I wasn’t that girl anymore, no matter what my mother or Miranda thought.

  Taking a deep breath, I stretched once more, then let my hands fall down to the top of my head—then cringed at the feel of my ratty, half-curled hair.

  “Oh man,” I groaned.

  Getting up, I went to stand in front of the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. At the other side of the bathroom was a second door that led into Kass’s room.

  “Damn,” I said, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell. My shirt was wrinkled and askew, my hair wild and all but completely fallen from the bun I had gone to sleep last night in.

  Worse still, my eyes looked red and tired, with heavy bags beneath them. My lips were pulled down in a small frown and overall, I just looked like something the cat dragged in. Through the window. And the dumpster. And the snow.

  Cringing, I reached for a towel. A shower would definitely help this entire, hideous situation. But I paused mid-reach as I caught sight of the clock.

  “Oh hell!”

  It was eight forty. I had twenty minutes to get my ass to Anderson’s class. I skipped the towel and the shower altogether, grabbing for a pair of skinny jeans and Converse. I threw them on right over my night clothes, not even worrying over changing my shirt—or putting on a bra.

  It was a testament to how frantic I was to get there on time, because I never left the house without a bra. I didn’t have the biggest breasts in the world, but I was definitely not on the small side and bras were generally a must in my opinion.

  But I didn’t
worry about one today.

  Being late to Anderson’s class was not an option. Marketing was my least favorite class and Anderson my least favorite teacher, but if I was late to his class, the feeling would be mutual and I would be branded for the rest of the semester as a “problem child.” The rest of the semester would be pretty hard on me.

  So I took the time to rake a brush through my hair, wincing as I realized my natural curls were returning with a vengeance.

  I threw a jacket over my sleep shirt and grabbed my backpack, tossing it over my shoulder. I stomped down the stairs, not caring about how much noise I made or if I woke up my many roommates. They could all be cranky and annoyed with me if they wanted, so long as Anderson wasn’t.

  It was only a fifteen minute walk to campus from our apartment, but Marketing was on the other side of campus—meaning it would take me another ten minutes to get there. There was no way I was making it on time short of a flat out run.

  Annoyed at myself for sleeping so late, I broke into a jog, gripping my books as tightly as I could. My Converse tried to slide against the moist pavement, but I kept my balance as I dodged students headed to class—casually, instead of frantically, like I was. I saw the building just ahead. I risked a glance at my watch. Two minutes. I might just make it.

  Just as hope fueled me to push faster, a hard body slammed into my side, knocking me to the ground. I closed my eyes against the fall, bracing for the hard concrete beneath me as my books scattered around me on the sidewalk, some sliding into the grass.

  But the fall wasn’t nearly as bad as I had anticipated. My hip landed on something almost soft and my head was cradled against both the shock of the fall and the hard ground beneath me.

  Opening my eyes, I stared into a pair of striking light blue eyes. They were ringed by a darker blue, the color of stormy seas. Light, golden lashes framed the eyes thickly. I was so lost in them that it took a long moment before the rest of his face came into focus. He had a strong, square jaw that was lined with light golden stubble and full lips that were made for smiling—or kissing. Blonde hair hung loosely about his face, just long enough that the tips of it tickled my face.