“Hailey!”
At the sound of David’s voice, I take off down the steps, not even sure where I’m going, but I don’t stop. I push through bodies and I’m on the porch in what feels like slow motion. I’m running down the stairs. I’m leaving. I have to get out of here.
***
I blink awake, cold, with a hard surface at my back. Gasping with the shock of disorientation, I sit up, the first orange and red of a new day in the darkness of the sky. I’m outside. I’m…I look around and realize that I’m on the bench of a picnic table. I’m in a park. I stand up and start to pace. I’m dressed in black jeans and a black sweater. The party. I went to the party. I dig my heels in. Did I get drunk? Wouldn’t I feel sick? I’m not sick. I’m not unsteady. My tiny purse I carry with me often is at my hip. I unzip it and pull out my phone. Ten calls from my mother. No messages from Danielle.
“Danielle,” I whisper. “Where is Danielle?”
I dial her number and she doesn’t answer. I dial again. And again. I press my hand to my face and look at the time. Five in the morning. My car is at Jesse’s house. I start walking, looking for a sign, anything to tell me where I’m at. Finally, I find a sign: Rock Creek Park. The party was in McLean. Rock Creek is back in Washington, a good forty minutes away. I lean against the sign and my mother calls again.
I answer. “Mom?”
“Thank God,” she breathes out, her voice filled with both panic and anger, two things that my mother, a gentle soul, and doctor, who loves people, rarely allows to surface. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been so worried.”
“I don’t know what happened, Mom. I blacked out and I’m at a park.”
“Near Rock Creek,” she says. “I know. I did the ‘find my phone’ search but it’s not exact and I was about to call the police. I just knew—” She sobs before adding, “I just knew you were dead in the woods. I was about to
get help. I was about to have a search start.”
“I—Mom, I—”
“Go to the main parking lot.” She hangs up.
My cellphone rings with Danielle’s number. “Where are you?” I demand.
“At Jesse’s,” she says. “Where are you? I was asleep and I thought you were in a room with David, but he was with some other girl.”
“You don’t know what happened to me?” I ask.
“No. Jesus. What happened?”
Headlights shine in my direction from a parking lot. “I’ll call you later,” I say. “I have to deal with my mother.” I hang up and start running toward the lights. By the time I’m at the driver’s side of my mother’s Mercedes, she’s there, too, out of the car and reaching for me.
“You have so much to explain,” she attacks, grabbing my arms and hugging me. “I am furious with you. You scared me.”
“I scared me, too,” I say hugging her, starting to cry, the scent of her jasmine perfume, consuming my senses, and calming me. “I don’t know what happened.”
She pulls back. “Did you drink and do drugs?”
“No. I mean—one drink. I’m fine. I—”
“One drink. We both know what that means. This wasn’t the first time.”
“No. Mom. It was. One drink. I don’t know what happened. Someone drugged me. They had to have drugged me.”
Her lips purse. “Get in the car.”
“Mom—”
“Get in the car.”
I nod and do as I’m told. I get in the car. The minute she’s in with me, I try to explain. “Mom, I—”
“Do not speak to me until I calm down.” He seatbelt warning beeps.
“Mom—”