Chapter Three

The Jenkins' house was a wild place, and it was a miracle that no one had called in noise complaints about the party yet. I totally would've been that loser snug in bed, shamelessly ringing the police to deal with the noise so that I could get a peaceful twelve-hour sleep. But, there I was, in the middle of teenagers singing at the top of their lungs, dancing like lunatics to getting high. The only reason I was there was that I'd had just so happened to be in one of the hostesses' bedrooms.

The crowd hid away my best friend, so I went from room to room, looking for Anna. She finally moved away from greeting people, but that was a problem because I'd no clue where she was. She could've had been anywhere. After standing in line for the bathroom, she wasn't there and duh—it was one person at a time. That was stupid of me. She wasn't in her bedroom, or she was, and she locked herself inside. Eventually, I found her setting the books up straight in the library they had in the corner of their sitting room. Boom.

"Anna! There you are! I thought I lost you forever. Shots?" I asked, taking her by the arm from the sitting room and dragging her outside to the pool.

"Shots? Sam, look at me . . . Shit, you're wasted," Anna said to me warily.

"Wasted? Pfft. I'm a Doberman," I proclaimed.

"Doberman?"

"Where?" I asked, spinning around until she clutched me to her side. "C' mere doggie!"

"You said you're a Doberman," she explained.

"Oh. Soberman! I am a soberman—person," I chirped.

"Sam," she huffed out in the middle of laughter.

"Shots!"

Everyone nearby took a shot, slamming the cups down on the picnic table and the outskirts of the pool. Huh. This must've had been what it was like to be popular — swaying the masses with a single command. It was exhilarating. No wonder people wanted to be popular. No wonder Sabrina wanted to be prom queen. It said it in the title. Queen. How cool. Quaint. Queens needed tea. I wanted tea. Therefore, I was a queen? Hell yeah.

Jack poured me a drink—and he was a good servant, refilling my drink time and time again, no matter where I was. That was close enough to tea. It was a game! See how much you could down before your throat threw up fire, and I planned to throw myself into the pool if I felt it crawl up my neck.

Anna snatched the cup before Jack could place it in my hand – well I did try to grab it, but the cup went out of focus and was in Anna's hand by the time the bright lights dimmed. She ignored my pouting and emptied the cup onto the ground.

"Sam, you are so gone, my friend," Jack said, walking over and threw his arm around my other side.

"You're a liar like Anna," I accused.

"And you're a cute drunk," he said.

"She's not cute," Anna said. "Damn, Sam, how much have you had? Let's go to your house. I think you've had enough for a decade."

"No," I cried and slipped from under their arms and waddled closer to the pool. "The pool needs to soothe my throat first! Swimming! Dancing and swimming. What do we do we swim swim swim."

"Hold up." Jack gripped my waist before I could jump into the pool. He didn't push me away from the water like expected. He helped me. "Slowly."

"Sam, don't," Anna warned as I was lowered into the pool by my helpful servant.

"Come on in, Anna!" I floated near the edge; one hand outreached.

"People have been in there with their . . . bodily fluids and God knows what else."

Kicking my legs was getting so tiring. "I love you, Anna. Don't you love me?" I whined at her. "Do you want to build a snowman? Or . . . Aquaman?"

"Not right not," she said. "C'mon, out of the water."

"You're such an Elsa. Your parents named you wrong." I stuck my tongue out at her.

"I'm getting help," Anna muttered.

"Sounds like you need it, Elsa!" I shouted after her then turned to Jack. "You're Olaf. Melted."

He swept his hair back off his forehead. "I like drunk Sam."

"I am Soberman Sam, and she is awesome," I argued.

The pool was a giant jacuzzi, much too hot and had people around the edges sitting down, heads tilted back in total relaxation or fixated forward and making out. Slightly disgusting but whatever. Jack's hand slipped up and down my arm, and it was way too warm to deal with. He was Olaf with his warm hugs.

I pulled at the neckline of my dress, hauling it back up and realised that shit, it was Anna's dress, not mine.

"Oh no, Anna's dress," I whined. "It's ruined."

"Maybe you should take it off?" Jack suggested.

"I don't think that's going to help make it better."

"I think it would make things one hundred percent better."

Suddenly, hands were under my arms and hauling me out of the water and onto the grass, and the world above me swirled and twirled like an endless roundabout so that I was facing the merging stars and Sabrina's ever-moving face. And then she was gone.

But my vision had gone black so who knows? The next thing I knew my arm was thrown across someone's shoulders and beneath me was the cool wood of the stairs. Red dress. Had Anna been wearing red? No. She always said red was danger, and she avoided dangerous things.

If it was Sabrina, she was mighty strong, getting me up those stairs because my legs weren't working. Soon, they didn't need to work because my back pressed against a hard surface and my head was covered and quickly shuffled into a towel, swiftly giving my hair a dry and then fluffy pyjama bottoms were pulled up my legs and under my dress which was then taken off only to be replaced with a super soft t-shirt.

Next thing I knew my back was pressed against a soft surface. What was long enough to accommodate my back that was also soft?

Shit. What's the word?

Mattress. Yes. I am the queen of the world in a queen-sized bed. The future prom queen had the perfect mattress.

I turned onto my side and rested my face against the palm of my hand and my elbow dug into the pillow. "Sabrina Jenkins," I said, levelling her with a stern look. "Your pool calls my name. How dare you interfere with a love so strong?"

"Want to know a secret, Sam?"

"Always," I said. "But you don't share secrets with me anymore."

She shook her head at me. "It's an old secret. You're gay. Jack didn't seem to get that hint down in the pool. Trust me, sober Sam will be grateful. Nap it off."

I sighed, slinking back down on the pillows. "I'm pretty sure I'm the most sober I've ever been in my entire life. My brain is working ten times faster than a drunk person's, trust me. You're going to leave me all alone now, right? Ohhh I'm in your bedroom. Remember the last time I was in here? Pretty sure it was when I told you that secret. Kiss. Kissing. Kissed. You kissed me. I kissed you."

"You really should nap now, Sam."

"You're not leaving. Why not? I promise to stay in your bed." Sabrina ignored me while she snatched a key from her table and headed to the door and stepped outside, placing the key inside the door. "Wait. Are you seriously going to leave me in here? Alone? Are you locking the door behind you? What if I suffocate? No. Worse. What if I snoop through your room?"

"I can't trust you, can I?" Sabrina sighed and stepped back in and locked the door.

"Nope," I said. "You must be drunk if you had to ask me that."

"Coming from you . . . "She sat in her computer chair and crossed her legs. "Why are you drunk?"

"It's a party. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a party?"

"You don't drink."

"That you know of!"

Sabrina laughed at me. "You were never good at keeping secrets, Sam."

I sat up on the bed and ignored her scrunched up nose as I clambered beneath the bed covers. "Sabrina . . ."

"Sam," she drawled.

"About the prom committee."

"No chance."

"Oh, come on," I begged, stubbornly flipping onto my back and crossing my arms. "Think about it. It's prom night. Close your eyes and imagine! Your sister has complete control of the agenda of the night with your suggestions. Your date is there with the perfect and winning smile and not as popular as you but the perfect match for the queen's title. Your ass-aesthetic matches the pretty designs of the prom, an advantage over the other candidates because you'll be the only one to know the secret theme!"

"Who's my date?"

"Parker!" I said quickly. "Imagine it!"

"I don't think so . . . "

"Why not? She's pretty, popular, into you . . . is it because she's a girl? Internalised homophobia alert!"

"You know that's not the problem."

"Do you hate me that much?" I whispered.

"Sam, you're the one that hates . . . you're drunk. Let's not have this conversation."

'Please? It's for a good cause. Your sister. Anna. She's asking you to build Aquaman, and you're holing yourself in your room, all scared of love and affection!"

"That is not applicable in this situation. At all. Even if you had said a snowman."

I got up, swinging my legs off the side of the bed and used my foot to drag her chair toward me. "I think it is."

Sabrina poked at my foot. "I think you're spouting bullshit, Sam."

"I don't know . . . Sabrina. I think I'm spilling piping hot tea. Speaking of. Tea?"

"You're lucky I have a kettle in here."

"Can I have the turtle cup?"

"If you want."

"You're being so nice to me." I staggered back into the bed and crossed my arms over my face. Sabrina pulled me up into an upright position against the headboard and placed the cup of tea in my hands. She sat at the edge of the bed beside me and sipped on her own drink. "Wow, I'm an awful person. I'm ruining your party! You should be out there, and I don't know, plotting your oppositions demise or . . . or smiling at people that way you do that makes them weak at the knees. You know the one."

"I make people weak at the knees?"

I nodded fiercely. "Don't be coy. You know the smile."

"Okay, Sam," she laughed. "Keep some of your secrets."

I scowled and sloshed my cup forward in an attempt to poke her, but that only resulted in some tea falling onto the bed covers. Sabrina placed her cup on her bedside locker, gripped my arm to keep it in place and took the cup away from me and then started to dab at the stain. She gave up and rolled me to the other side of the bed and tucked me in so tight that I couldn't move. She laughed at me as I struggled to turn or move.

"Close your eyes. I'm getting changed," she ordered.

"Okay."

"Sam . . . one eye closed doesn't count."

"Sorry," I mumbled, closing my eyes.

Huh. Here I was in the future prom queen's bedroom on her queen-sized bed and drinking her queenly tea.

Maybe I was the prime candidate to be the prom queen's date and not Parker. Nah. Who was I kidding? If anything, I'd be on the prom committee, making the night magical — the prom queen's fool.