What Happens Next Read Online Free PDF Page B

dry, my voice cracking.
    “Dax?”
    No answer.
    When I try to get up, a sharp pain blooms behind my left eye and spreads over my head. I can’t feel anything from the neck down because the pain is so severe it leaves the rest of me numb. I stumble out of the bedroom, into an alcove, and make my way down a small winding staircase. At the bottom of the steps, I call out to him again. Still no answer.
    My coat hangs over a hook near the front door where my boots are sitting, lined up perfectly, right where I left them last night. I pull them on and open the door. It’s still dark out, but the sky is brightening in the east.
    As I walk, my phone buzzes inside my coat pocket, then beeps with a low battery alert. Kirsten has filled my inbox with texts and messages, but my phone dies before I can call her back. I hurry through lanes that all look the same, all gingerbread houses, row after row.
    I finally locate the correct condo; I can tell it’s the right one by the police cruiser sitting out front. I sneak around to try the side door. Locked. As I turn to sneak around to the back entry, the door swings open. Cougar Di stands before me, hands on her hips, eyes on fire. A burly police officer steps up behind her. He sees me and his eyes move up a tick, taking in the giant nest of red curls, which I am sure are sticking out in all directions, lending me the appearance of a giant cracked-out Little Orphan Annie.
    Diane says through gritted teeth, “Girlfriend, you’re in big trouble.”
    When I walk into the condo, Kirsten and Paige are sitting on the couch in the living room. Their faces are sunken and swollen at the same time. When Kirsten sees me she cries out with this strangled sigh of relief, a sort of whimper that’s been knotted up in dread. Paige bursts into tears and they both run over and grab me into a hug. Neither of them can speak because they’re sobbing so hard.
    I should comfort them, tell them something to stop their tears, but I don’t know what to say. And what’s worse, I don’t hug them back; my arms just hang limp at my sides. I don’t know what’s happened or what’s happening, and I can’t think straight. My head is throbbing so hard I can actually hear it. Like two bass drums, my brain pounds against the insides of my ears. Kirsten and Paige’s sobbing and clinging won’t settle into me the right way; their distress and relief at seeing me won’t go into my heart and mind the way they’re supposed to. I’m queasy and hot and smothered and I think I might faint or throw up or explode if I don’t get out from under their suffocating embrace. They feel my resistance. I’m not exactly pushing them off me, but my body language is clear. They ease away at the same time.
    “Where were you? What happened? Why didn’t you call?” Kirsten says, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve. “We called you all night long !”
    On that last word, her voice changes, the fear and dread replaced by something else. I see it in her face, too. In a split second, her expression goes from weeping and frenzied into an expression completely unflinching in its resolve.
    Kirsten wants answers.
    And I don’t have any.
    I look away, turn my focus to Paige. She’s wiping her face, too. And her eyes, while not quite as determined as Kirsten’s, are also filled with immediacy, a need for answers.
    “Are you okay?” Paige asks. “What happened?”
    I start to say “I don’t know” but am cut off by PTA Nazi Mom, who comes barreling over.
    “Yes. What happened? Where were you, Sid? The girls said you went to meet some boy. You went to a party. Is that true? Are you okay? You look hungover. Were you drinking?”
    “I—yeah. I mean, no. I didn’t drink. I went to—I met this—” but I’m cut off again when the officer butts in.
    “I’ll need you to make a formal statement about this.”
    “Okay, girls, go to the bus,” Mrs. Winthrop says, ushering Kirsten and Paige toward the door.
    Mrs. Winthrop