“So who was it?” I asked, growing hot with anger. “Who put the Rohypnol in my drink?”
“We don’t know, Soph. You were the only victim, as far as we can tell.” Millie could barely look me in the eye. “Alex says it might have been a cousin of one of his friends. He was mixed up in something like that a couple of years ago. He wasn’t even invited in the first place, and now we can’t track him down.” Millie’s voice turned quiet. She rubbed her eyes, smudging her eye shadow until she looked like a panda. “It’s all my fault, Soph. I’m sorry for letting the party get so out of hand.”
“It’s OK,” I offered, hoping it would ease her guilt. “It could have been worse, right? I didn’t come to any harm.”
“Yes, thankfully,” said my mother.
I clamped my eyes shut and concentrated. I was dancing. I was in the kitchen. I was with Millie. And then, nothing. “I’m trying to remember.”
My mother rubbed my arm. “Sweetheart, the doctor says it’s unlikely you’ll regain your memory of last night. There is a possibility of flashbacks, but they probably won’t have all the answers to what happened. We’re determined to get to the bottom of it, though. The police will want to speak to you now that you’re awake, and we’ll talk to this Robbie boy when he surfaces, too, I promise.”
“We’ll figure it out,” echoed Millie.
I glanced at the needle in my hand and felt a heightened awareness of the cold liquid entering my body, drip by drip. “When can I get out of here? Hospitals give me the creeps.”
As if right on cue, a heavyset nurse with short ash-blond hair sashayed into the room. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
I had the vaguest feeling I had heard her voice before.
“Confused and headachy,” I surmised.
Without looking up, she launched into what seemed like a perfectly rehearsed speech. “The Rohypnol is leaving your system and the worst of its effects have subsided. You’re going to experience residual headaches and possible nausea for another day or two, but after that you should be back to normal. The doctor says you’re ready for discharge when you feel strong enough.”
“I’m strong enough.”
The nurse pulled the corners of her plump lips into a frown. “In the future, I would caution you to keep your drink with you at all times and to have it covered when you’re around people you don’t know well.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped myself. I was furious, but not at her. I was angry at everything: at the person who’d drugged me, at the boy who’d tried to kiss me when I was so out of it, and at Nic for leaving me here with my mounting confusion.
First, he speeds away with his brother, ditching me in a deserted street, and then he turns up out of nowhere to rescue me, but leaves me with no clue about what happened. Even in his absence, he was still playing games with my head, and one way or another, it had to stop.
I sat with my elbows on the table, watching my phone. It vibrated against the wood and made the peas on my plate quiver. The number on-screen was Jack’s.
“He’s not going to stop calling.” My mother’s words squeezed themselves out through a mouthful of dried pork chop.
“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” I wanted to talk to my uncle, but it was late and I could barely keep my eyes open, save for the hunger. I swallowed the mountain of mashed potatoes in my mouth and scowled. “Why did you have to tell him so soon anyway?”
“I didn’t tell him. I told Ursula because I don’t want you going into work tomorrow, and when he called the diner, she told him about it.” My mother shrugged and popped a forkful of peas in her mouth.
My phone started buzzing again, exacerbating the headache that still lingered at the base of my skull. I picked it up and swiped my finger across the screen. “Hi, Jack.”
“I’m outside, let me in.”
“What?”
“Open the back door.”
He hung up. I crossed to the kitchen window. He was just a shadow lingering by the bushes, carefully out of range of the motion detector so I could barely make him out at all. Where did he come from?
“Is he here again?” My mother’s voice was teeming with bewildered disapproval. She stood up. “What is he doing?”
I unlocked the door and he slid inside, shutting and locking it behind him.
“Sophie,” he panted, his cheeks blotted with circles of pink.
“Where did you just come from?”
He waved my question away and crushed me into his shoulder so hard I thought I would lose my breath. I hadn’t hugged Jack since I was a child. I was used to him showing his affection in other ways — expensive presents, a shift off at the last minute, or random phone calls. But there was something about the hug that made it better than all that — I felt protected. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he huffed into my hair.