Abigail Brown: Chapter 11

            Abigail and Chloe sat outside on the porch, both taking in the cool night and just thinking. Abigail was thinking about what had unfolded in the past half hour and how disappointed she was in herself. Chloe was hoping that her friend hadn’t crossed over to the dark side. She’d lost three friends in high school after they’d found out how much they liked to party.

            Neither of the girls really said what she was thinking. Instead, Chloe sighed and said, “I have to go pee. Then we can leave. Ok?”

            “Sounds good. I’ll wait here.” As she said it, Abigail thought it didn’t sound quite right. Oh God, I’m drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk. This is so not worth it. Then she began to hiccup. Ugh! How could this get worse? It didn’t take long for her to figure that one out.

            As she sat there on the porch feeling like crap, Brad and his small gang of friends stumbled through the open front door. They were clearly drunk and talking obscenely loud. They didn’t seem to notice her as they leaned up against the sides of the porch about fifteen feet away from where Abigail sat. She was on the second step leading up to the house and behind her was a flower-pot overflowing with green and pink and purple.

            “Dude! You didn’t get her drunk enough!”

            “Ugh, what a bitch.” They had Abigail’s full attention by now. She quietly eavesdropped while biting her lip hard trying to keep the tears down.

            “Don’t worry buddy, there are plenty of other drunk chicks inside… And they are way hotter than whatever her name was.”

            “Haha, true,” Brad chortled. “And, she was a horrible kisser.” They all laughed before he added, “It was like kissing a fucking rock!” At this they began roaring with laughter.

            Abigail saw this as the perfect time for an escape, so she silently stood up and started tiptoeing back to the front door. When she had almost made it across the porch to the door, she thought she’d made it without being noticed.

            Then she tripped.

            She fell flat on her face. The guys began laughing even louder, until one of them stopped cold and said, “Crap, that’s her!”

            She tried to stand up but her ankle twisted as her heel hit the edge of a loose board. She fell again, on her face, again. As if I wasn’t clumsy enough sober. I should have known better. She thought as she tried to get up a second time. That’s when she realized her skirt was not covering anything it was supposed to cover.


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