Page 24 of Deck of Scarlets

My bed, stiff as a board even with the mattress pad, made me shift uncomfortably for quite some time until my body crunched down in the fetal position, where I awoke shortly after to a loud alarm on the opposite side of the room.

Heather’s alarm, to be exact, screeched like a bird, and she was lucky my body had no intention of rising from the bed to smash it to the floor.

My classes didn’t start until Monday, so unless she was getting up early to practice running for a marathon, there was no need to have the alarm blaring at this hour. I tried to cover my ears with a pillow to soften the sound but was too annoyed to go back to sleep. I groaned, grabbed the box of tissues on the side table, and chucked them at her head.

“Ouch!” she yelped in the dark.

“Turn it off!” I demanded.

“What?”

“Your alarm!”

“Ah! Okay!” Silence returned, and I sighed in relief.

“Why was your alarm set?”

“I used to get up and run around this time.”

Go fucking figure.

I glanced over at my clock and choked. “At five-thirty in the morning? Are you even human?”

“Damn, you figured me out,” she joked.

I rolled over to face her in the dark. “I came close to smashing it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” admitted Heather.

“Really?”

“I shared a room with my sister back home. She smashed about four of them.”

That gave me a good belly laugh. “Damn, girl.”

“I know. Hey, there’s a freshmen breakfast later at nine-thirty. Do you want to come with me?”

Did I? After what happened last night, a part of me never wanted to attend the bogus events this school created again, but Heather had become someone I didn’t mind spending time with. Yeah, I missed the crap out of Nickie and Jeremy, even though the two of us were not on speaking terms—mostly Nickie, Jeremy texted me briefly last night before bed—but it had been nice to have someone else out of that friend group who did ordinary things, even though some of those everyday things made me want to gag. Then there was the not-so-secret society Heather had been invited to, and I had no clue how to bring it up without her thinking I snooped around through her stuff. Trying my best to be a good roommate but also wanting to confront her gave me a headache. I could attend the stupid thing, but that would mean I had to dress up and be a part of something I’d refused to associate with from the beginning.

Heather bit her lip. “So…?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe they’ll have mimosas there,” I dreamed.

“Is that…” Heather paused.

She had zero knowledge of the alcohol world. “Yes, it’s an alcoholic drink.”

“What’s your favorite drink?”

Surprised by her question and interest in my taste in mixed drinks, I decided on my top three. “Hmm, I like rum and Coke, sometimes a chocolate martini, and I’m obsessed with any drink mixed with watermelon vodka.”

“I wish I could drink.”

“May I ask…” Should I? Was it rude? I’d never met someone who took anxiety medication; then again, how many people came right out and told you what demons they fought?

The flask underneath my pillow burned with regret and lies.

Heather could sense my awkwardness about asking and immediately shifted, her bed creaking in protest. “Nobody has asked me straight out before.”

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