Читать книгу Snapshots - Pamela Browning, Pamela Browning - Страница 9

1990

“Martine!” I said, brushing past Rick, who stood frozen in the doorway.

“Tris, oh Tris. I’m so-o-o-o-o sick.”

I knelt beside her and held her head, murmuring to her. When she leaned back against the bathtub, I stood, rinsed a clean washcloth in cool water and passed it to her so she could wipe her face.

She handed the washcloth back, eyes sunken, cheeks hollow.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked, not at all happy with the state she was in. We’d have some explaining to do if we didn’t manage to remove the stain down the front of her dress before Mom saw it.

Martine nodded wearily. “Hugh gave me something to drink. I had too much. Or maybe it was because I mixed it with all that sickening punch—” She clutched her stomach but managed to get her nausea under control.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Rick said from behind me. “Let me help you up.”

“Where’s your purse?” I asked.

Martine only moaned, and I went into the other room. Unlike the room we’d passed through earlier, this one was dark and quiet. I groped for a light switch, my eyes unaccustomed to the darkness after the glaring brightness of the bathroom. Someone reached out and grabbed my wrist.

“Where’ve you been, Martine?” asked Hugh Barfield, looming out of the darkness. I recoiled at his boozy breath.

“I’m not—”

“They have names for girls like you. I’d never have pegged you for a tease. Now, come on and I’ll show you the fun I promised.” Behind him I saw a king-size bed with its bedspread flung back and the sheets all rumpled.

“I’m Trista, not Martine,” I said. “She’s in the bathroom, throwing up her guts. Let me go.” I wrenched away from him, but he was too quick for me, also very strong. He played guard on the football team and was built like a Hummer on steroids.

“You’re Martine. You can’t fool me,” he said, and in horror I felt him fumbling with the top of my dress. I said, “No!”, but he lurched against me and before I knew it, I was on the bed and he was lying on top of me.

I was terrified. Sure, there were other kids nearby, but now this guy was yanking my dress up. My futile struggles only incited him more.

“Stop,” I said, but the word was muffled by his chest pressing against my face so I could hardly breathe. I turned my head aside and tried to scream, but all I managed was a grunt.

And then Hugh’s weight suddenly lifted off. Rick yelled something and tossed Hugh across the room, where he landed on a table and yelped. Hugh was up in an instant, slamming Rick into the wall. Out of the corners of my eye, I saw classmates crowding around both doors.