Page 140 of Hooking Up
"I'm okay." She pulls her arm to her side. Stumbles up the walkway.
Walker jogs to meet her. He pulls out his keys, unlocks the front door, steps inside.
She follows.
Then I do.
The inside of the house is just as beautiful. The foyer is a big, airy room with a winding staircase. Skylights let in the glow of the stars. They're dull the way they always are in the city, but they're beautiful all the same.
I follow them up the stairs, to the room at the end of the hallway.
It's a girl's bedroom. And I mean agirl. It looks like it belongs to a thirteen-year-old. The sheets and bedspread are pink. The wallpaper is ball gowns and tiaras. The bed is a white four poster thing with sheer lace hanging off the top railing.
It's the perfect place for a princess.
No wonder his sister is this fucked up.
He treats her like a child. Their parents probably do too.
I don't blame him—she's acting like a child, misbehaving for attention—but still.
She needs help. More than this.
He motions to the bed.
She sits. Kicks off her heels. Pulls the covers to her chest.
"What did you take?" I ask.
"Does it matter?" She wraps her fingers around her arm. "Are you going to scold me too?" Her eyes narrow.We both know you don't have the high ground.
"Yeah. It's easy to overdose on certain things." I adopt my bestI'm going to be a doctor, well, not that kind of doctor, but trust me, I know this shitvoice.I move closer. "What did you take?"
"She's studying to be a shrink," he says.
"It was only one hit," she says. Like that makes it better.
But it does. To her. I know. I've been there.
"You drink anything?" I ask
She shakes her head.
I look to Walker. "She should be okay."
He nods. Motions to the door. "Go to sleep, Bree."
"Walker, I'm sorry. I want to be better. I do. I just…"
"Call me when you're sober." His words are weary. Like he's tired of repeating them.
He moves to the door, flicks the light off, moves back into the hallway.
I follow him downstairs and back to the car.
He rolls the windows down but doesn't turn the key. The breeze blows over my arms. Crickets chirp. The moonlight bounces off the hood.
He brings one hand to the steering wheel. "I don't want to go home."
