My Freshman Year: Day 109

Days a Freshman: 109

By Ccandygrace

Mood: totally surprised

“At first I thought I didn’t remember anything.” Sammy walked over to her desk, touching the knickknacks and papers surrounding her small laptop. “But every couple of days or so little bits of sound or a weird flash of a picture would pop up out of nowhere.”

“Your hallway bathroom is disgusting.” Rebecca pushed through Sammy’s door, droplets of water falling onto the carpet from the hot pot. “I didn’t want to touch anything.”

As soon as she closed the door, the energy must have hit her, because Rebecca stopped walking and stared at the back of Sammy’s head. “What?” she asked, letting her eyes slide over to me. “What?”

“I started telling Grace about what happened.” Sammy kept her attention on her desk, playing with a small green stapler. “I think she should know.”

“Oh.” Rebecca set the hot pot on Sammy’s puffy comforter. “Okay.”

“If it’s a big deal…” I leaned farther against the dresser, wishing I could lean myself right out of the room. “If it’s a big deal you really don’t –”

“Well, I was super wasted, so it’s not as big of a deal as you would think.” Sammy picked up the stapler and spoke to it. “Its not like I have all the gritty details. I got to the party drunk, hung out with Justin and some of his friends in the house, smoked some pot…and then I was sitting on a couch…” her voice wavered, fading in and out like a radio with bad reception. “And everyone tells me I was making out with some guy for a while…Sasha, I guess…”

Rebecca’s eyes slid over to me, but I looked away.

“I don’t remember that part…not really…but then I was lying somewhere in the dark…I was hot. I was lying on…like, something hard and I felt…” Sammy’s voice faded until I could barely hear it, the stapler still the subject of her speech. “I felt someone on me. Pressure. Breathing. F*cking awful tequila breath. I can remember the tequila. I’ll never be able to drink it again.”

There may have been more to her story, but Sammy didn’t seem able to move her mouth anymore. She was biting her lip, staring past the green stapler now, staring back to that night.

“I haven’t talked to Sasha in two weeks.” I offered, breaking the silence badly. “I don’t think I want to.”

“Sammy doesn’t know if he really did it.” Rebecca walked over to Sammy and touched her arm though her fuzzy blanket. “People are making conclusions.”

“But I have my suspicions…” finally setting her stapler back down, Sammy looked into Rebecca’s eyes. “Sasha and I were friends in the beginning of the year. Now he won’t look at me. Nothing.”

Rebecca moved her hand to Sammy’s head, holding it like my mother would hold mine after a childhood nightmare. “Just because he won’t look at you—”

“I know.” Sammy cut her off heavily, sighing as though the words were old and stale. They had spoken about this before. More than once. “In any case, now you know all that I know.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say. Did you thank someone for letting you into their worst moment?

Footsteps thundered down the hall. I waited for them to disappear up the stairwell next to Sammy’s room, but instead they stopped.

“Sammy?” A guy’s voice pushed itself through the small crack between the door and wall. “Hey, you there?”

The three of us stood still, staring at the door. Rebecca’s hand dropped from Sammy’s head like she had been burned and they instinctively took a step away from each other. I thought I recognized the voice, but I couldn’t be sure if I was the only one.

“Uh…are you gonna open it?” Rebecca walked over towards me. “You expecting someone?”

“I guess…” Sammy squinted her eyes at her door like she was trying to remember who was supposed to be on the other end.

“Yo, Sam!” The guy knocked a few times.

“Jesus, just let him in!” Rebecca shoved her hands into her jean pockets. “What are you waiting for?”

Sammy walked slowly to the door as the knocking continued, her feet practically dragging on the carpet.

What the hell was she waiting for?