The Other Guys

Chapter 2

“Jesus,” I curse, wasting no time reacting as I run up to her, getting down on my knees to check her pulse. CeCe’s dirty blond head is resting on the toilet and there’s a bit of drool on her cheek, but I sigh in relief after I make sure she’s still breathing.

“Go find Dale,” I yell to the first person I see as I look back, “now,” I order when I notice the girl’s too shocked to move by the sight of CeCe on the ground, barely reacting because when CeCe’s passed out, CeCe looks dead. It’s alarming how well she can fake being dead, really.

The girl scampers off in search of Dale, CeCe’s on and off boyfriend, and also, the resident burnout. There’s only one Dale in the entire school and everybody around here knows him, so tracking him down shouldn’t take too long. Not to mention he’s, like, 7 feet tall and towers over everyone (who’s not a giant). Meanwhile, I hold CeCe’s hair and try to wake her up by gently slapping her and splashing her face with water repeatedly. When that doesn’t help, I wash my hands and get down to business as I shove my fingers down her throat until she starts throwing up. I hold her hair back while she vomits, careful not to get any puke on her or my clothes because I know that vomit stains can be a bitch to get rid of.

Eventually, CeCe opens her bleary eyes and when she does, I all but thank the heavens above.

“Jesus H. Christ, CeCe, you scared the shit out of me,” I tell her, doubting she’ll remember anything tomorrow and remembering what past experience has taught me.

 “Is she okay?” some girl asks as she comes in, alternating her anxious stare between me and CeCe who’s still lying in my arms and is in the process of slobbering all over me.

“Oh, yeah, just your typical Friday night,” I say to her, managing a half-smile, thinking that I’d find CeCe passed out somewhere at least once weekly. She’s a lightweight that loves her alcohol, and that’s a recipe for disaster if there’s one.

“Oh, shit,” Dale cusses out as he shoves everyone aside and barges in the bathroom, stopping directly in front of us and taking in the scene before him – his girlfriend and her best friend lying on the bathroom floor and smelling of puke.

Charming.

“She alive?” he asks, eventually recovering, but not taking his dilated brown eyes off CeCe, who seems to have once again fallen asleep in my lap.

“Of course, she is,” I quip, rolling my eyes exasperatedly at Dale’s idiocy, which isn’t coming in handy right now, “she just needs to lay down somewhere. Preferably not on some dirty bathroom floor,” I drop a hint, which Dale, thankfully, takes as he bends down and takes an unconscious CeCe from my arms. He picks up her bridal style and CeCe grunts before she throws her hands around Dale’s neck and buries her head in the crook of his neck. We’ve done this so many times before; it’s almost become a routine by now.

“Find her an empty bedroom and, for god’s sakes, keep an eye on her this time,” I tell Dale, who as far as boyfriends ago, is one of the lousiest ones and is never there when you need him. He barely even nods at me, probably having missed everything I’ve just told him before he’s out of here, taking CeCe with him.

I go to search for the rest of my friends, the remaining ones, who aren’t either getting it on with someone or too drunk to hold a conversation. Just as I start to wonder if maybe I should’ve gone with CeCe and Dale and kept an eye on her myself, I feel somebody hug me from behind and lift me off my feet, making my heart jump in my throat.

At first, I go rigid at the contact, but when my body recognizes the familiar touch, I melt into my boyfriend’s embrace, letting him wrap his arms around my waist.