Premature Evacuation (Underground Sorority #1) (14 page)

I fought back a sniffle as I peered into the black night toward the hotel I couldn’t see. My teeth chattered and a coldness so fierce welled up in me, turning my fingers to icicles. Suddenly I felt so tired, utterly drained, and the thought of walking another step seemed like it might actually kill me. I might be trashed, but Corey
had
stopped drinking hours ago. “Please,” I whispered against the howling wind. “Let’s drive to the other hotel.”

His feet stopped dead. “That’s not a good idea, Mac.”

“Even if you drive really slow?” I was shivering so much that my puffy coat squeaked as it rattled against my shirt.

He studied me for a moment and his mouth turned downward at whatever he saw in my face. After raking his hand through his hair, he sighed. “Okay, but I’m seriously staying below five miles an hour.”

He lifted the handle of my suitcase and dragged it through the snow while wrapping his other arm around my shoulders. Wind snatched my hair and sent it fluttering. The world lurched, sliding on a slant and spinning wildly.

The spinning didn’t stop once I settled into the warm car. I leaned my head against the windshield to steady myself. “The surprise…” I mumbled as I leaned my head against the window, eyelids half closed.

Corey’s face softened, the hard lines of his tensed jaw smoothing out. “Crap, Mac. I’m sorry.” He started the engine, the low rumble vibrating under my thighs. Headlights dropped spotlights on the falling snow. “It’s cheesy, but candles. I was going to light them around the room, just like you’d said in Bianca’s room.”

I leaned over and clasped his fingers in mine. I’d meant it as a romantic gesture at first but my grip tightened as the car swayed around me. I was starting to think it wasn’t the car skidding but my tipsy brain. Still, the black roads were as slippery as snakes and almost as coiling. A twisting, turning path, like luck herself.

Everything blurred in my head like a photograph that suffered a spill, its once crisp edges bleeding into one another. The car slid, fast and abrupt, twisting so fast my head knocked into Corey’s. A sharp lurch tugged at my stomach as if on a roller coaster as the car glided off the side of the road and down a snow covered embankment. Corey slammed on the brakes, and I pitched forward. The car spun on the tracks of a tilt-o-whirl before coming to a stop inches from a telephone poll.

I blinked at him, my head foggy. He sat there, hands gripped on the wheel, mouth ajar, frozen. My first thought was he’d done it on purpose. It seemed so natural, as if the road curved this way or he intended to pull over right into the ditch. That very thought sent me into a flutter of laughter.

“Mac, this isn’t funny.”

I zipped my mouth shut. He leaned his head back against the seat. His hands covered his face, and he slowly dragged them down as if he were pulling his skin taut like silly putty.

I tested out my voice. “Wh—what happened?”

He sucked in a breath. “Black ice, I think.”

My stomach dropped and my alcohol-laced brain could only latch onto one thought: I’d have to walk the rest of the way to the next hotel. In the rear view mirror, I could still see the bright lights from the hotel we just left. We’d barely even made it one hundred feet out of the parking lot.

Corey gunned the engine and it made a horrible sound, like a dying animal. The car wouldn’t budge. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel. “You sit here and drive. I’ll push.”

He wrenched open the door and tumbled into a mound of snow. Ice crystals danced their way inside before Corey slammed the door shut and stomped knee-deep to the back of the car. I slid over to the driver’s seat, then stared dumbfounded at the apparatus.
Oh God. It’s manual.
My head pounded, from the alcohol, from the accident. One thing was clear to me: one accident was more than enough for tonight. Still, I stepped on the gas while Corey pushed, but that proved futile.

He retreated back into the car, rubbing his hands together to warm up.

“We need to call for help.” My cell phone waited on my lap, ready for the emergency.

Corey shook his head. “There’s probably still alcohol in my system. I’ll get a DUI. We need to wait it out for a few hours.”

My head pounded with this knowledge, all of it mixing and jumbling in my brain as I tried to make sense of everything. Corey buried his face in his hands and his shoulders trembled in tiny earthquakes.
Harrison’s fault
, I thought, the events from earlier shifting in my mind to present blame.
Not mine
. If Harrison hadn’t provoked us, I would never have had to suggest getting into a car.

After about twenty minutes, someone pulled over and asked if we needed help. Corey told them “no,” but they must have called anyway because only a few minutes later, the same police officer who escorted us out of the hotel arrived at the scene.

“We skidded on ice,” Corey said, his voice so sure it was if he believed his own lies as the absolute truth.

“Out.” The officer gestured to Corey. “You stay here, miss.”

I sat in the car and watched as Corey climbed out of the ditch and performed a series of sobriety tests—walking a straight line along a sheet of ice, breathalyzer. My leg rattled. The only indication I received of whether Corey passed or failed was the shiny silver handcuffs slapped onto his wrist. The officer escorted him into the backseat of the police cruiser, then gestured for me to come up.

Cold panic sliced through my veins. I dug my shaky hands into the snow embankment and climbed onto the road. Icy wetness seeped into the fabric of my pants. Shivering, I stood on the yellow road line waiting for my turn to walk it.

The officer stepped into my line of vision, chewing gum like a cow. “Miss, Mr. Taft is being taken into the station.”

Wind kicked up snow around my soaked feet. My spine crackled at the torture of waiting for what came next. Two silver bracelets circling my wrist and chaining me to the police car?

But the officer only chomped on his gum. I sucked in a cold breath that burned my lungs at the realization I wasn’t being arrested as well. “Can—can I go with him?”

“That’s not the best idea. We don’t have a proper lobby, you see, so you’d have to wait outside, and seeing as it’s minus three degrees right now, you’d freeze.”

Tears formed in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks and freezing into place immediately.

He sighed. “How old are you?”

A strangled cry lodged in my throat. “Twenty,” I whispered, a total lie. I knew he wouldn’t believe I was twenty-one but nineteen sounded so much younger than twenty.

He pursed his lips. “You shouldn’t have gotten into the car with him when he’d been drinking.”

I nodded, the cooperative criminal, even though my jaw clenched at the latent knowledge swirling in my gut that I’d coaxed him into breaking the law.

“Look, Miss, I’m going to take you back to the hotel. I know you weren’t the one being violent or driving. I’ll talk to the manager and get your room back for you.”

“Thank you.” A beat. I knew my senses were impaired and what I was about to say was a terrible idea, but I said it anyway. “Would you mind if I talked to him for a moment? To make sure he’s all right?”

The officer nodded. “Another police car is on the way. You have until they arrive.”

Corey rocked back and forth, lifting his hands up to his lips, and blowing into them. His eyes were bloodshot and vapid. The glint of silver from the handcuffs reminded me of the glittering formal. The half-open window separated me from him. “They’re letting me go back to the hotel.”

“Good,” he said. The police officer’s walkie-talkie clicked on and off with muffled voices like the teacher in the
Peanuts
cartoon. The lifeless color of Corey’s skin matched the snow on the ground. “They’re taking my car in. I can’t get it until Monday. You guys will have to find another ride home.”

I reached to the edge of the window glass and put my hand on it. He rested his atop of mine.

“Call me when you’re released.” The words were a crappy replacement for what I should have said:
I’m sorry.

Instead he was the one who took the blame. “I’m so sorry, Mac. For this. For everything.”

“Corey, it’s okay.” But obviously that was the biggest lie of all. For nineteen years, I’d been the epitome of a good girl. Straight A’s in high school. Spending my entire first year of college avoiding the cliches: no fifteen additional pounds, no random hook ups, and no dumb mistakes. Corey had told me if he hadn’t joined his fraternity, maybe he wouldn’t have become so destructive.

I finally understood what he meant.

W
HEN I RETURNED TO the hotel, splotched in mud, my hair as messy as a stray dust bunny on a dirty floor, the first thing I did was knock on Bianca’s door.

“Oh my god.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Mackenzie, you look awful.”

That was nothing compared to how I felt. I hitched a shaky breath.

“No, seriously, you look like you just participated in Pi Alpha’s pudding wrestling tournament.” She burst out laughing. Great, she was still trashed. I suddenly felt sober enough to conjugate every verb in Spanish.

I went inside where Nate lay propped up against the bed, his shirt off but his legs under the covers. Bianca’s covers were rumpled too. Separate beds? Did that mean she chickened out on making a move…or got rejected? But Bianca’s smile told it was the former, not the latter.

Nate sneered at me. “Corey called us from the station.”

I perked up. “Is he okay?”

“He said he wasn’t given a D.U.I. because the breathalyzer showed all zeroes or something.”

“How did that happen? I thought he had failed the test?”

Bianca shrugged. “He couldn’t really talk since he’s in jail and all. Won’t be released until tomorrow.” She giggled. “Oh and Kiera Chan will drive us home tomorrow.”

Even though the officer had gotten my room back, Bianca let me crash in her bed. Next to her. Nate groaned all night, tossing and turning as if my very presence had ruined his entire night. I shielded the sniffles inside my throat.

In the morning, I realized I’d left all my stuff including my phone and wallet in Corey’s car. Which was now towed. Since my clothes were advertising mud spas, Bianca tossed me her gently used pajamas—a sorority sweatshirt and sweatpants—and I washed the dirt off my face in the mirror. Blood shot eyes and sallow skin stared back at me.

“Called Corey,” Bianca said when I stumbled out of the bathroom. A headache pounded against my skull, forcing me to squint. “No answer.”

“Did you try”—I cleared my dry, scratchy throat—”the police station?”

Nate shushed us with a finger then pressed it into his ear. His other ear connected to a phone. Bianca jutted her chin at Nate as if that explained everything.

“Okay, cool. Thanks.” Nate hung up the phone and slid it back in his pocket. “He was released at six A.M. They haven’t seen him since.”

I swallowed hard. He had no car. We were two hours from campus. And he wasn’t picking up his phone.

Where the fuck was he?

And was he okay?

We arrived at his room to find him lying on his bed with his arms behind his head and a somber expression on his face. He made no gesture to greet us, just shifted his eyes toward us momentarily before resuming his empty stare at the TV.

“How the fuck did you get home?” Nate hovered over him at the edge of the bed. Bianca and I hung back. The sad sight of him snatched my breath.

Corey sighed. “Rob.”

“So, what, he drove out in the middle of the night to pick you up?” Nate crossed his arms.

Corey nodded.

“And you didn’t think to tell us?”

His eyes fluttered closed. “I texted Mac.”

I bit my lip. “My phone is in your car.”

Corey let out a strained laugh, the first sign of life. “Wherever that is.”

I climbed onto the bed with him, my knees sinking into the soft sheets. Somewhere deep in my gut there was an uneasy feeling, but I could barely remember why. Only vague snatches of last night remained. Harrison’s challenging smirk as he provoked us. The car spinning on black ice. A blood alcohol level of exactly nothing, the purest evidence of all.