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A short time later, I’m sitting at the table, pushing my dinner around my plate. It’s not like there’s room in my belly to fit any more. It seems like if I eat more than a few bites of food, I get intense heartburn. Which is why I feel like I’m constantly eating just to get enough calories. But this time, my being pregnant is not the real reason for the food pushing.
I’m concerned about Bug.
More than once last week, I heard her telling Asher she doesn’t fit in. How she still feels like the new girl and thinks she always will.
I hate to bring it up to her again, but I feel it’s her that’s the issue. She’s putting out the wrong vibes. And sitting by herself in the courtyard is not exactly an invitation to be approached.
Asher and I were hoping after she made the team she’d begin to bond with the other players. But it seems she’s sabotaging those efforts without even realizing it.
I get it though. I grew up here, in a town where everyone knows everyone. We’d all picked our friends by the third grade. Sure, there were friend shifts from time to time. I remember when new kids moved to town because it was such a big event. The questions would start the moment the SOLD sign went up out front. Would he be hot? Would she be a bitch? Would he be a star football player who could help us get to the state championship? Would her parents go out of town and leave the liquor cabinet unlocked? And while we all sat back and sized upeach new student, eventually they found their place within one group or another. I’m praying that will happen to Bug.
Without anyone here to keep me awake, I go back to bed right after dinner, propping myself up on a mountain of pillows so my few bites of chicken don’t try and make their way back up due to the limited space. How am I going to have room for anything a month from now? Two? I rub my belly, marveling at the capacity of the human body to grow to accommodate multiples.
~ ~ ~
My alarm goes off. But it’s still dark outside. Really dark. I grumble as I turn to look at the clock. It’s only one in the morning. Why is my alarm going off?
Then I realize it’s not my alarm. It’s my phone. And it’s ringing. While I usually put it on silent at night, I never do when Asher is away. Which is why my spine stiffens and my stomach lurches. Why am I being called in the middle of the night? Has something happened to him?
I pick up my phone, but it’s not some random number that could potentially be a hospital or police station. It’s not Asher’s face that appears either. It’s Bug’s.
“Bug? Uh, I mean Darla?”
She doesn’t answer for a second. Maybe she rolled over on her phone while she was sleeping. I almost hang up, but then I hear muffled music in the background. The bass is pounding. I go on high alert because I’m pretty sure Marti and Dallas do not play loud music in the middle of the night.
“Darla, what’s wrong?”
“I… I need you to come get me.”
At least I think that’s what she says. Her words are slurred, and she sounds really tired. Maybe she’s dream-calling me.
Still confused, I ask, “Come get you? If you’re sick, can’t Dallas or Marti drive you home?”
She mumbles something unintelligibly through the phone.
“Darla, you need to speak up.”
“I can’t. I’m in a closet.”
I sit up, heart pounding. “In what closet? Where?”
“Some guy’s house.”
Oh, holy shit. “What guy? Where?”
Her voice trembles as she slurs, “I d-don’t know.”
I’m off the bed and pulling on clothes. “Drop me a pin. Right now, Darla. Do it. I’ll call the police.”
“No!”
It’s the most coherent word she’s said.
“Darla, it sounds like you’re scared and maybe in trouble.”
“I just need to get out of here. I won’t drop a pin unless you promise no cops.”
Her words are slurred and it’s obvious now that it’s not from being sleepy. She’s been drinking.