The Heiress Club

Chapter 9: It's a Blacked-out Blur

I wake up with a wicked hangover.

Sparky will be so disappointed in me, I immediately think. Getting drunk is the worst possible thing that could've happened. When you're drunk, you don't think twice about what you say, about what kind of secrets you might spill.

I'm still somewhat in my devil costume. The tail is gone and I can't find the horns anywhere. The light streaming in through my window is much too bright and there's a pounding in my head, accompanied by a parched dryness in my throat. I feel as though I've just been run over by a school bus, which is dumb since there isn't a single school bus in a five-kilometre radius (unless you count my biology teacher's camper van which he lives in).

More than all that, there's a sickening feeling in my gut. I'm sick to my stomach not because of all the things I must've vomited up yesterday, but because I don't remember it at all. I can recall taking the first shot and then everything else is an inconceivable blur. That's bad.

"My head hurts," I hear Es groan as she stumbles out of her room.

I heave myself out of bed. I fell asleep with my Prada boots still on so I kick them off now, padding barefoot into the common room. Each little movement sends a spike of pain rushing through my head.

Noelise sits on a couch, looking at us with disapproval. "Serves you right," she says.

"I'm never doing that again," Es says, her voice hoarse.

"You gotta experience it at least once," I mumble, because that wasn't my first time drunk.

I try to sit down on the couch and promptly collapse on it. The cool fabric is good for my head. I stare at the floral patterns, trying my hardest to remember. There are small snatches. I remember a car, a sleek red luxury racing car. I can't remember the licence plate, which is dumb because I always remember licence plates. I remember black leather seats and driving the car too fast. I remember playing spin the bottle but getting hauled away before I could kiss anyone. I can't remember by who. I remember dancing on a table to a loud pop song. Even the memory of that makes me wince, the echoes of the song still reverberating in my eardrums.

"You guys were so drunk, it's unbelievable you didn't get roofied," Noelise sniffs.

"Nobody could've roofied us because they were too drunk as well," I mutter.

"Like that will stop someone."

"Why do you have to be so awful?" Es bursts out in a pained wail. The hangover probably has some part in it but I find myself agreeing somewhat. Noelise is just unbelievable.

"What am I supposed to say?" Noelise demands. At least she's saying full sentences now instead of just ignoring us. "You guys come home at two in the morning, drunk out of your minds, and I'm supposed to just act like that's normal?"

"It kind of is," I mutter.

"Well I know we go to Arbourne, but not everyone likes things like that."

I turn to look at Noelise. She's hard to read. Too spiky. But this time, I try. It hits me like another school bus. She's upset that we went out without her, isn't she? Maybe I read Noelise wrong the first time. We didn't even see her costume. Did Noelise even go out? Noelise is ... something.

"I'm sorry," I say.

Noelise doesn't say anything.

"What was your costume?" I ask.

After a moment of staring at me, she speaks. "You didn't even see it, asshole," she says, but some of the resentment has drained out of her tone.

"Yeah, so what was it?"