Liars and Losers Like Us(24)

“Sorry for calling them jerks. I know they’re your friends.”

He says we’ll talk about it after we drop them off, but then adds, “Is it okay for me to drop you off last. I think I’ll need some sober company.”

I say, “No problem,” as Todd, Jane, and Molly amble down the walkway of Chris’s house. Sean presses his palm against the horn again and Molly jumps. Jane walks ahead of Todd and Molly, piercing eye holes into Sean’s car.

Jane swings my door open and asks, “Hon, is it okay if I sit in the front? I get so carsick and I’d hate to throw up in Sean’s car.”

She’s gotta be f*cking kidding me. “Yeah, sure. Fine.” I grab my handbag so I can move to the back.

“Wait,” says Sean. “Actually, no. Bree stays up front. There’s grocery bags back there so if anyone pukes, they can use those. She’s the only other sober one here, so I need her to help me navigate.” He winks. So, so glad he’s not mad at me.

Jane huffs as I slide my seat forward. She squeezes in behind me with another obnoxious sigh. Molly and Todd hop in on Sean’s side.

I tap Sean’s knee and mouth “Thank you.”

He throws me a quick smile and says, “All right, who’s going where first?”

“You can drop me off last or well … whatever,” Jane says. “Just not first. That should be good, I mean, it makes the most sense.”

Sean and I laugh the majority of the ride. The three of them are pretty funny in a sloppy entertaining kind of way. Molly makes a big gag out of trying to sound intellectual while talking about old iCarly reruns. They’re like hyenas back there reenacting an episode about pranking that I must’ve missed back in middle school. While Molly racks her brain for more plots to what she deems “serious classic comedy, you guys” we drop Todd off.

When Sean finally reaches Jane’s house, after she directs us the wrong way twice, she gets all bitchy again.

“What the hell, don’t pull in the driveway!” Jane yells from the back. “Go to the curb.”

“What’s the big deal?” asks Molly.

In the driveway, a man and woman are lip-locked and leaning up against the side of a black SUV. The man, tall with dark wavy hair, hops into the driver’s side, and the woman heads back toward the house, then turns and waves.

“Back up, hurry, back up,” says Jane.

“I am, I was about to,” says Sean. “Chill out, you guys are the drunk ones. I can drive just fine. My lights are on, it’s not like the guy’s gonna hit me.” Sean backs the car out of the driveway and pulls over to the curb as the car backs out, then drives away.

“Holy shit,” laughs Molly. “You didn’t tell me your mom has a boyfriend. Finally she’s getting some action.”

“Seriously, Molly. Shut up. That’s the last thing I want to think about right now.”

“Wait, that’s not your dad?” I ask over my shoulder.

“No, what do you care?”

I turn around and Molly subtly shakes her head “no.” The urgency in her eyes stops me from asking another question. Molly flicks me in the shoulder.

“Well, I’d love to sit here and discuss my family tree and my mom’s social life, but I’m f*cking tired. Can you unlock the door and let me out?”

“No problem.” I push the unlock button and barely lean forward so she can squeeze out.

Jane oozes sappy good-byes to everyone but me.

Sean yells after her, “Britta said good-bye Jaaane!”

Without turning around or looking back, she sticks up her middle finger and waves it back and forth in one of those pageant-style waves.

“Wow, she’s really into you,” says Sean.

“Her name’s Bree,” slurs Molly. “Don’t you know uughhh, my stomach hurts, try not to go so fast.”

“So, that wasn’t Jane’s dad?” I ask.

“No, that’s why I stopped you. She never talks about him. She told me her dad died when she was in kindergarten but then once a few years ago, her older sister said he left when they were kids. Jane’s funny like that so I never ask personal stuff.”

“Funny?” I snort. “More like bitchy. Whatevs.”

Molly moans again. “Do we—where are those bags?” the pep in her voice wilts away with each word.

“Oh no, hell no. I don’t do vomit.” Sean swerves over to the curb, slams the brakes and opens his door.

I jump out and help Sean usher Molly out of the car. “Just wait here,” I tell him. “I got this.” I guide Molly to the edge of someone’s lawn.

Molly groans. A waft of crisp green grass reaches my nose at the same moment she heaves a supersize vomity sludge onto the curb, the grass, and my purple Converse. I jump back and stop inhaling before I get a whiff of Homecoming Queen and Class Veep barf.

She gags, “I’m so sorry. Oh God, I’m being punished.”

I kneel down and flip my hair back, feeling more like I’m the one being punished. Molly’s hair is strewn about and stuck to the sides of her puke slobbery mouth. Using my own bare ungloved fingers, I peel the half-silky, half-slimy wet mattes of hair stuck to her cheeks. I reach for the black ponytail holder that’s usually on my wrist. Shit. I’d replaced it with my “lucky” rubber band.