I try to remember last night. Is this what it means when someone drinks too much and blacks out? Is this what they mean? Did something else happen? I’m dizzy and I finally scramble out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. I throw up, over and over again. No one holds my hair, no one rubs my back. I moan, and the puke comes through my nose and burns. I am sobbing now, but no one comes. Mom can sleep through anything. I lean against the wall and wipe my face with some toilet paper, and it tears and sticks to my face. There is a part of the ceiling that is peeling off, and it makes me so sad, and I start to cry quietly again. Finally, I get up and go back to bed. I am exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come. Eventually I hear Mom crashing around in her room. She’s calling out to me, Stevie, Stevie. But my mouth won’t work. The door opens.

“Stevie! Get up, girl.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

She squints at me. She needs glasses, but she’s too cheap and too vain.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel well.”

She comes in and sits on my bed. I can smell her shampoo, and it turns my stomach. She puts her hand on my forehead, and for a second, I am so grateful to be looked after, like a kid.

“Did you get drunk last night, Stevie?”

And I’m crying again.

“Jesus,” she says, sighing. “Okay, okay.” She rubs my back. She doesn’t say anything for a while. Finally, she inhales and gives my back a pat. “Well. It was a stupid thing to do, but I was doing way worse at your age.”

“I’m sorry,” I blubber.

“Yeah, yeah.” She blows out her cheeks and looks at her watch. “Look, I have a client coming soon, so I gotta get downstairs.” She stares hard at me. “I know I should probably force you to go to school as punishment, but you seem like you’re really suffering here. You wanna stay home today? I mean, school’s almost done; it’s not like they’re gonna fail you, right?”

I sniff and nod.

She shakes her head and ruffles my hair, and it’s really nice.

“You dummy,” she says, and gets up.

After she shuts the door, my phone starts going off. It’s buzzing and buzzing, over and over again. I’m afraid to pick it up. I am lying on my side, watching it on my bedside table, vibrating so much it’s threatening to explode. I turn it off, and it feels like the silence might strangle me. I close my eyes, but it’s no use. I am wide awake now. And my mouth feels like I ate a sweater.