Chapter 16: Chapter 16

When a slow song comes on, we split up. "Want to dance?" As we catch our breath, Mark asks.

"Sure." I say. We walk toward the dance floor. Again, more old sayings. We're right below the disco ball. Like in the best movie ever, "A Cinderella Story." Austin told Mark that they should meet under the disco ball. Ha Mark.

It's a shame I can't help but think of Tristan from the first few episodes of Gilmore Girls whenever I see Austin. Then, when I thought about Lauren Graham, the movie Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life came to mind. Which made me think about the cute dog named Calvin who was in it. Which reminded me of my old dog Pat, who was just like that.

I wake up before the song is over. Mark and I are as close as we've ever been, as far as I can tell. The song ends, and we go talk to each other. Mark goes to find Charlie, and I go to find someone I enjoyed being around at least a little bit.

I just went from place to place until Max spoke to me. "Heey boo boo." He slurs. "I think you have Maya in mind." I say I'm a little lost.

"No, I don't mean it for me. Max says. He must believe that I am she. "Alyanna, I love you." He knows it's me, though.

"You're drunk, and you don't know what you're talking about." I try to stand up for him. He's going out with my best friend.

"What they say is known to you. What a drunk man says is the truth." I'm not sure if he got it right, but I've heard something similar.

"You're wrong," I said. I take a step away. I can't stand the smell of booze.

"Baby, tell me you love me too. I understand." He puts his arms around me and puts his mouth right next to mine. I try to get him to leave. It doesn't work. "I love you baby." He says again.

He's coming to kiss me. "Leave me alone!" I scream as I try to get away from him. Even though he's drunk, he has a strong grip.

The music stops, and I can hear footsteps coming from somewhere. I can't see anything because Max's arms are still around me. Then I feel his arms break free, and I feel better as Charlie pulls Max away and wraps his arms around me.

"You ok?" Mark asks, looking down at me.

"Yeah I'm ok." I say hugging him back. "Can we leave?" I ask. I'm sure he will say yes. I think that's what he was going to say.

"Sure. Charlie just took Max outside to get some fresh air." He gave up a little so he could look at me. I give him my most reassuring look so he'll let go enough to let me walk by myself.

"Maya. Oh. She must feel terrible. Oh no, I made a mistake." I most often say to myself. As we went outside, the music began again.

"What do you want to say? Nothing you did was wrong. Don't say you're to blame. Hey, do me a favor and blame someone else." Mark demands.

I ask, "Like who?"

"I'm not sure. Why not Max, or even me?" He says.

"I'm not going to blame you. You didn't do anything to cause this." I defend him.

"You get what I'm saying. Just don't blame yourself." He tells me.

"Ok." I say this because we're already at the truck and Charlie isn't far behind.

I realized that was also a common saying. The whole drunk guy made a mistake.

The next morning, I had a hard time getting out of bed. I'm feeling bad. My head hurts, I can't speak, and my stomach hurts, too.

Since we got home last night, I haven't slept at all. Mark was kind enough to stay with me because Charlie had more to drink than him, so he fell asleep right away.

We watched Die Hard all night long. The first one we saw again. No questions. The other one. Few questions. Three, four, and five. He fell asleep, so I can't ask him anything.

He still had the same calm, open face. It looks good. I hope he keeps it up. When his dad isn't around, at least.

Charlie comes in when Mark has to go to work. I still haven't had a good night's sleep.

"What's up? How are you?" As he walks into the room, he asks.

I don't agree with him. I don't feel like talking. No, I couldn't. I did lose my voice. I don't know how, because I wasn't that loud last night.

"I know last night was rough, but can I tell you something?" While sitting on the bed, he asks. I nod. "So, I've been going out with this girl named Abby, and I sort of..." He is stealing, but I think I understand what he is trying to do. "Got. Her. Pregnant." He can't breathe.

"What?" I ask my voice hoarse.

"You listened. Don't make me say it again." He says. It didn't make it sadder.

"How do you feel?" I'm quiet.

"I'm not sure. I don't want her to stop, and she doesn't really want to either, but we've only been dating for three months." He turns his back on me. Most likely to hide the tears. I walk up to him and hug him. "You're not mad?" He asks.

"What? What would really irritate me." Still whispering, I say.

"I'm not sure. I thought you wouldn't talk to me like my parents do." He says hugging me back.

"Have you stopped hearing from them?" I ask. I'm stunned. I have always thought that his parents were kind.

"Yeah. But I'm 19, so I can't do anything about it." He pulls away from our embrace and goes back to his bed.

I ask, "Does anyone else know?"

He nods. "Your dad." Makes sense. Charlie treats my dad like a second dad, and maybe even better than his real dad. When he lived here, he used to come over almost every day.

"What does she want to do?" I ask.

"She would like to leave that place. She just graduated from high school like you did and moved away." He says that.

"Why?" I ask. I'm starting to sound like Mark.

"Her parents don't help her much either. So, when I get back from my trip, we'll pack up and move here." I look up at him with wide eyes.

"What?" I try to ask in a normal way, but my voice cracks and I start to cough. He gives a small laugh. "Yeah. Chris said we could stay here until we find a place. Do you think that's fine?" He asks.

"Are you kidding? Of course I am." I hugged him again. "This is the best news I've heard in the past 12 hours." I try shouting. "You need to go right away!"

"Is it rude that you want to get rid of me?" He asks everyone who is mad.

"Yes. I want you to leave so that you can come back to stay sooner." I explained.

"Fine, I'll go pack. When I leave, I'll come to say goodbye." Then, he walks out of my room.

As my phone rings, I smile at the door. "Hello?" I answer. My voice is getting worse.

"Alyanna. You ok?" Sophie says something.

"Oh, I just lost my voice," she said. Even though she can't see me, I explained with my hands. "So, what was it you wanted to say?" I ask.

"Oh yeah. I uh." She has trouble speaking.

"It's fine, don't rush." I give her comfort.

She breathes in. "I went to the bathroom when I got home from a friend's house. "Oh my gosh! Do I understand what this means?" And, uh, there was blood, and I freaked out, so I used one of my mom's pads, and I've been doing this for the past three days." She messes up.

"Did you tell your mom?" I ask. I'm really trying not to squeal. Partly because I've lost my voice and I don't think she'd want me to.

"No. I don't want it to be uncomfortable. So I went to you first because you got yours a little bit later than she did." She tells.

"What do you want to know?" I ask. I take her silence as a sign that I should go on. "I didn't tell my dad either, and I don't have an older sister to talk to and get advice from. So I used toilet paper to make a makeshift pad. Even though I know you have a real one. I was getting ready to talk in front of the class, and when I turned around to point at something, everyone started laughing because I was bleeding through. My dad came to get me when the principal called him. We talked about how awkward it was for me to get it. He said he would get me some on his way home from work, and he told me to let him know if I needed more. So, you can see that telling your mom won't be as bad as you thought."

"Ok. Still, I feel strange." She talks back.

"You can call her up and let me tell her if you want me to." I say.

"Really?" She asks, her voice getting cheerier.

"Yeah," I said in reply. I can hear her going about.

"Hello?" I can hear my mom.

I say, "Hey, mom."

"Oh my god, your voice!" She tells me.

"I'm ok. I just lost my voice." I say. "Hey, mom, I have something to tell you."

"Ok, go ahead." She sounds even crazier now. I have no idea why.

"Sophie told me that she got her period three days ago and was too nervous. To talk about it with you. She asked me to do it." I explained.

"Oh I see." I can just picture her grinning at Sophie, who is probably getting smaller by the second. "I'll tell Sophie that you love her and that I also love you." She tells.

"I also love you all. We'll talk to you soon." I say before hanging up.

My life over the past 48 hours has been nothing but a cliché.

Graduation. Drunk guys make mistakes. My best friend, who is crazy, is making a girl pregnant. And my little sister is getting her period and not wanting to talk to mom about it. My life is full of clichés.

All except that I was forced into my marriage. But I don't mind that anymore. I'm the stereotypical rough-and-tumble girl who falls for the "bad boy." Even though he says and thinks he is, he is not a bad boy. He's Mark just Mark. My Mark will be back on July 18, 2019.