With the blaring music, Lyn could barely be heard. "I really think we ought to get him to the hospital!"

Sara's ears were hurting from Lyn's smothering comments, "He'll be fine. He just needs to sleep it off. He hasn't consumed that much. A few shots isn't a lot."

Lyn was standing above Isaac's unconcious head, shaking hers. "Well, really, we don't know how much is bad for him."

Scott came back with the ice for Isaac's head. Sara took it from him, and gently pressed it to Isaac's swelling temple. "He'll be fine. I'll stay with him just in case." Sara nodded to Scott, and they hoisted Isaac up. "Listen, okay, unless you want to help carry him back to his room, shut up. He doesn't have to go to the hospital, and I'm tired of your griping in my ear."

Lynda became visibly defensive, holding to her last bit of stung pride. "Well, how do you know?? You could be hurting him."

Sara finally turned squarely on Lynda, like a dark wild one turning on the princess. "When you have an alcholic parent, you learn these things. Now move it or we're gonna run over you."

They arrived at the dorm in Berklee. Kicking in the door, Sara turned her anger on Jordan. "Out! Now!! You've kicked him out enough times, now it's your turn to sleep on the couch."

Jordan was sitting on his bed, flipping through a guitar magazine when the three entered. "I don't think so. I've got a test tomorrow that I need to study for."

Jordan opened his mouth, but before he could even finish his pathetic excuses, Sara grabbed his hand and walked him out the door. "For tonight, you can sleep on the couch." Turning back toward Isaac she muttered, "And don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

Scott was already maneuvering Isaac to his bed while Sara pulled her boots off. A knock on the door brought her anger back. "God, he doesn't know when to give up, does he?" She pulled the door open ready to scream at Jordan, only to find Lynda standing in the hallway. Sara refrained from rolling her eyes, but her annoyance was obvious.

Lynda mustered up some courage and said, "I thought I'd help with Isaac. It's cold tonight, so maybe we can get some more blankets." Sara clamped her mouth shut, but her nostrils flared. Scott calmly walked over and mumbled, "Thanks. We could use some help, but we can't put him to bed."

Lynda walked through the door and slid out of her jacket. "But he's already asleep."

Sara walked in behind her and seethed with jealousy. "There is a small possibility that he has a concussion, and if we let him sleep it could ... hurt him further."

Lynda bristled, "I told you! He could die, couldn't he?"

Sara pulled a sweatshirt and sweatpants out of Isaac's top drawer and started for the door. "Get a grip. He's not gonna die."

"Well, I know he will if you leave him lying on his back and he gets sick. He'll choke to death," Lyn responded.

Sara wanted to slam the door, but knowing it would probably hurt Isaac's headache she refrained. The silence in the room was deafening. Lynda slid her hands into her pockets, and turned to Scott. "Should she be borrowing his clothes like that?"

Scott was tugging on Isaac and forcing him to sit up. "He's used to it by now. She does it to everyone; it means she likes them."

Lynda looked around the room anxiously. "Oh ... Well, it looks like you two have it all under control. I'll just give him a call tomorrow."

Scott directed his gaze from Isaac to Lyn. "Do you have a ride? I could drive you back, if you'd like."

"No, I have some friends who go here. I'll probably just stay with them for the night." She turned and picked up her jacket. "But thank you, anyway," she said, quitely slipping out the door.

Sara opened the door once again and peeked into the room. "Oh, Miss 'On the Good Ship Lollipop' is gone, dangit ... and I was looking forward to her rendition of the song." She turned and stacked her clothes in the corner of the room. "God, that girl'll put anyone into sugar shock. Isaac! Isaac!!" Sara squealed in a girlie voice.

Scott slapped Isaac's cheek lightly. "Knock it off. You're being unfair."

"Oh, please, could she have judged me faster? She wasn't even in the car before she wrote me off as a hoochie."

He turned to his twin. "And you didn't judge her just as quickly. Come on, Sara, you hadn't even met her before you hated her." Scott hated seeing his sister in pain, but there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that Sara felt more than friendship for Isaac, and that Isaac didn't feel the same way.

Sara had curled up on the carpeted floor, looking like a small child. Scott didn't like going behind his friend's back and talking about him, but there was little he could do. He hated having to choose between his sister and his friend. "Sara, you know you're only going to get hurt."

She didn't look at him, but he could feel her tears. Hot, thick tears streaming down her face felt like they were pouring down his.

"You think I don't know that!" Sara was using the cuff of Isaac's sweatshirt to wipe the falling tears. "I know I'm going to get hurt! I can't help it. I can't just stop being his friend. I'd rather be his friend than nothing at all."

Isaac started to come around and Sara quieted. Scott was looking down at Isaac when he felt a hand on his leg. Big, innocent blue eyes, the same as his own stared. "Please, please, don't tell him. I promise not to do anything about it. I can just be his friend."

It broke his heart. "Can you do that, though? Is it fair to do that to yourself?"

She smiled sadly. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

No other words were needed. Scott knew that he had to keep his silence, and knew that Sara would keep her feelings locked within herself. She may be strong on the outside but inside she had the frailty of a china doll.

Scott moved aside as Sara brushed the tears away. He watched her maternal instincts override her personal feelings. She held Isaac's face and checked his pulse. It saddened him to think how many times he had seen her do it before. Too many times their father would come home drunk. Fearing a court martial or formal reprimand from the armed forces, Sara would clean him and put him to bed. Sara saw many moons from the side of her father's bed, watching to make sure he kept breathing.

I woke up ... at least I think I woke up. It felt like a truck backed up onto my head during the night. I opened my eyes and yelled when I realized the drapes were opened. I pulled a pillow over my eyes and tried to shut out the screaming in my head.

I heard someone moving around the room, and made a silent plea that Jordan would stay quiet. A few seconds later I felt the pillow being pulled away from my eyes and a glass being forced into my hand. A quiet voice said, "You're going to want this."

I opened my eyes and looked into Sara's sleepy ones. I started to talk when I realized that during the night the Sahara Desert somehow moved itself into my mouth. She nodded knowingly and pressed two aspirin against my lips.

I finished with the water and nodded. Moving my head was a challenge, but I saw that the drapes were closed again. Evil fate showed itself when I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I could barely move my head so I made the further assumption that moving my body was going to be a rather large obstacle.

Sara seemed to know immediately, and moved down to push the covers back. She pulled my legs to swing them over the edge of the bed; grasping my wrists, she struggled to get my upper body upright.

"Oh, please, don't do that." Nausea swept through my body with every minute movement.

Sara looked over at me. "Sorry, hun, but I've got to do it."

Standing was quite an interesting experience, but once I was on my feet Sara basically carried me out into the hallway. She stopped in front of the men's bathroom door and knocked. Without waiting for an answer she swung the door open and announced, "If you don't want it seen, I suggest you put it away."

I wanted to melt into the floor. My mother's embarassing moments were a shade of what Sara could do. I tried to salvage my pride. "I think I can handle it from here."

"Yeah, you're gonna handle it, but I'm not gonna stand by and watch you fall on your face because you can't stand upright."

So there we were, Sara and I in the bathroom. Back to back, she supporting me, I did my thing. Sara was blabbering on about how "you shouldn't be embarassed" and "I've seen it before." I started toward the door when I heard, "You are going to wash your hands, right?"

Flourescent lights mocked me by the sink area. "Please don't make me. The lights are going to hurt my eyes." I saw her fight the urge for a smart remark; instead she pushed me over to the sinks and turned the water on. I closed my eyes as she washed my hands for me. I felt like an invalid but couldn't do much to stop it.

Back in my room and under the covers again, Sara flopped down beside me. My eyes flew open as the nausea from the movement of the bed attacked again. "Don't move. Please." We stayed silent for a good ten minutes when I asked, "I didn't say anything stupid did I?"

"After the third round of Mmmbop, you kind of shut up."

I laughed, only to have my head throb in response. "It figures that I'd sing that even in an unconscious state."

Sara was silent for a few seconds. "What's it like?"

I turned my head to see her staring at me. "What?"

"Popularity. Fame. Is it fun?"

I rolled over to face her, trying to squelsh the feeling of nausea. "In all honesty ... no."

I closed my eyes as the screaming came back into my head. "Imagine the movie The Truman Show..." I gave her a few seconds to place the film. When she nodded, I continued. "It's very much like that. Your life is filmed at all times, but you don't know it. The whole world is watching for you to screw up, trip, fall, or just do something stupid."

I sighed deeply. "Yes, there are times when I would not trade my experiences for anything, but you have to give up so much and don't realize it until those things are already taken. My privacy was gone before I knew it. I watched a twelve-year-old girl scale the wall of a national hotel chain to get pictures of us swimming. It's a double-edged sword, but until you have the sword in your hand, you don't know it."

I looked down and saw that Sara's hand was covering mine. I don't remember when she did, but it felt good. Friends like Sara come once in a lifetime ... if you're lucky. I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. The rhythmic circles that Sara was making with her thumb on my hand were calming the thunder in my head.

About ten minutes into our silence, I spoke the question that had been haunting me for weeks. "Sara, which one is the alcoholic?"

She didn't answer me at first, but I felt her body stiffen a bit, indicating she had heard me.

"Dad is." My heart broke to hear her say Dad; she sounded so little and afraid. Images of an eight-year-old Sara in a nightgown rolled through my head. "Daddy are you okay?" I squeezed my eyes shut and as images of a drunken figure looming in the shadows appeared in my mind.

Sara rolled away from me and struggled with the images in my head. Should I ask her about it? Will she hate me if I ask? I blinked my eyes again, trying to lose the haze that slurred my vision.

"Your breath..." I heard a small voice say.

I rolled over toward her and lifted my head. "Huh?"

Sara cringed and buried her head deeper into my pillow. "Your breath smells like his." I heard her sniffle. "Stale alcohol."

My breath caught and my heart tripped. "I'm s-sorry Sara." I climbed off the bed and clumsily stood up. My shirt and jeans were suddenly strangling me, and I had to get them off.

Standing at the mirror in the bathroom I saw just how low I had gone. The bruises under my eyes and the sickly palor of my skin made my stomach clench. I narrowly made it to the toilet before I vomited the contents of my stomach.

Kneeling on the floor, I felt a cool cloth on the back of my neck. Fingers stretched across my forehead. "It's okay."

"I want to die."

She laughed softly and I felt hot lips where her fingers had just been. "That's a normal statement, but a bit extreme."

The cloth slipped from my neck and a reassuring arm came around my chest. "You're going to be okay. You just need time to feel better."

I leaned back against her. "Sara, what possessed me to drink?"

She rested her head on my shoulder. "I think that would be Jordania's comments about your sexuality and masculinity."

"Oh man!" I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Why did I let that moron get to me?"

Sara lifted her head and said in that soft voice that made my heart trip, "Because you wanted to impress Lynda."

I turned to face her. "Did you like her? She seems really nice."

I saw Sara smile, but I also saw walls building behind those topaz eyes. "She's nice. You two will make a wonderful couple."

I laughed. "Sara! We've been on, like, two dates. You make it sound like we're getting married." That smile came again, and I got the feeling the joke wasn't as funny to her as it was to me.

She broke the mood and helped me up off the floor. "Come on, ya party animal, let's get you back to bed." She averted my eyes through most of the 'tucking in' process. "Everyone needs 'tucking in' sometimes," she said.

Sara sat down on the side of the bed and smiled at me. "You will feel better, I promise." She annunciated the words to make me believe them.

She was picking at the string on the seam of my sweat pants when I pulled at her hand. I looked into her eyes and tried to get her to understand. "Sara I didn't mean to hurt-"

A knock at the door stopped my apology. I started to pull the covers back when Sara stopped me. "I'll get it," she told me. She picked up the bottoms of my sweatpants and walked to the door. The amazing thing about Sara is that she has a feline-like way about her. Years of martial arts have given her a smooth movement and look. I watched her graceful movements halt and a rigid stance in its place.

I heard a quiet voice from the other side of the door. "Is Isaac here? I wanted to come by and make sure he's okay."

Sara turned, a pasted smile on her face. "He's right here."

I sat up in bed and let my feet touch the cold floor. "Hey, Lynda! I'm feeling much better." I saw the blur of Sara moving around the room. "I want to apologize for last night... Sara what are you doing?"

That smile still on her face she replied, "Just getting out of here. I need to get back." She shrugged off the comment with a joke. "You know, I think it's pretty selfish of you to expect two nurses at your beck and call." She was halfway out the door before I realized she was serious.

"Sara wait a sec-" She was halfway down the hall with her clothes under her arm.

She turned and blew off my apology. "I know you're sorry. It's okay. No harm done. Have fun!" The last comment was so high-pitched it hurt to hear.

"I'm ... I'm sorry if I'm interrupting..." Lynda picked at the hem of her sweater and smiled nervously.

"Oh, no! No, you weren't interrupting. Really. Sara just had to go, start working on a project, I think..." I was perfectly aware that I was rambling. But I was nervous, and didn't know what else to do. I didn't want Lyn to feel out of place, think she was interrupting anything, or that there was something going on between Sara and I.

"So, how are you feeling? Any better?" she asked, slowly walking towards the bed and sitting down next to me. She smiled and her face brightened enough to light the room.

"Well, I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a mack truck, but the pounding in my head has just about stopped." I smiled. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to leave so I could rest and feel better. Just her being here made me feel better.

"Good. I'm glad." Lyn smiled and slowly brought her hand up to my face to gently brush a loose strand of hair from my eyes. Our eyes met, she smiled shyly, then brought her hand to her lap with an awkward look in her eyes. She looked down her into her lap before raising her eyes to meet mine again. "I know the first hangover isn't the easiest to deal with." She smiled softly.

I looked up, knowing there was a surprised expression on my face. "You do?" Lynda just didn't seem the type to have experience with alcohol, or many stories to share.

A small chuckle escaped her lips. "Of course I do, Ike! I'm a college sophomore! I remember my first experiences with alcohol quite well, the good, the bad, and the nausea."

"Uh ... yeah ... speaking of that..." I trailed off, not knowing exactly how to word what I knew I needed to say.

"What? Are you going to be sick?" She immediately rose to a standing position, ready to escort me to the bathroom.

"No, no ... It's not that." I took a deep breath. "I want to ... apologize ... for anything stupid I may have done last night. I don't remember the specifics, but I'm sure I must have done something to embarrass you, and I'm sorry." I exhaled and looked down at my hands, which were folded in my lap. Before I had told Sara that Lyn and I had only been on two dates. I was pretty sure my behavior last night, whatever it was, sealed the fate that there wouldn't be a third.

"You don't have to apologize, least of all to me. And you didn't do anything stupid or embarrass me last night. Honest." She grinned, almost devilishly. "In fact, you were a lot of fun last night. I wouldn't mind doing it again, except for the part where Sara and Scott carried you to the car." Her smiled faded a little. "I did have a good time last night, though."

"Yeah?" I'm sure my voice indicated I was having difficulty believing her. But how could I not? I mean, like she said, Sara and Scott had to carry me out to the car. Where's the good time in that?

"Ike, do you really not remember what happened?"

Embarrassed, I could only shrug. It was an awful feeling, not remembering the evening. It felt like reading a book about your life, and then suddenly coming to a blank page.

"Well, why don't we start at the beginning and see you much you remember?" She offerred me a soothing smile, and I felt at ease despite my lack of memories of the previous night. "Sara drove us to the party..."

Walking into the frat house was like walking into another dimension, or something. It was just a whole other world inside. It was dim, and hard to recognize faces, including Scott's, Sara's, and Lyn's. There was a small stench, a mixture of sweat and alcohol. It was also about 20 degrees warmer inside. "I can't believe how crowded this place is!" I shouted over the music, handing the guy at the door a ten dollar bill and receiving two, red plastic cups - one for me, and one for Lyn.

"Well, Theta Chi is one of the largest frats in the area," Lyn said, taking the cup from me and smiling.

I thought I saw Sara roll her eyes, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Also, I really wasn't paying much attention. "What do you say we walk around and see what's going on?" I asked once Scott and Sara paid to get in, even though they weren't drinking.

We walked through the house, and Lyn and I stopped to fill our cups with something called Jungle Juice along the way. We finally stopped in a room considerably darker than the others. It was the source of the music, the bass pounding so hard I could feel it in my chest. A strobe light was going off, white Christmas lights hung from the ceiling, and everyone was dancing.

I stopped short when I heard the words "Girl, your bootie is so round ... I just want to lay you down ... Let me take you from behind ... I won't come until it's time..." coming from the speakers. Lynda crashed into the back of me. I turned around to apologize for stopping, and when I saw the puzzled look on her face I pointed to one of the large speakers in the room and said, "Did they just say what I think they said?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah, this is the 'Boom Boom' song, and they're not playing the radio version." She smiled. "I take it you never heard this song before."

I shook my head no. "This is the first."

Lynda took my free hand in hers, leading me further into the room where everyone was dancing. "Do you dance?"

"Uh ... I do something that vaguely resembles dancing," I said, flashing her a grin.

"Well, then, how about we do something that vaguely resembles dancing?" She knocked back the rest of her drink, and I did the same. She stepped in closer, wrapping one arm around my neck. One of her legs found its way between mine, and she began to sway her hips back and forth in time with the music. I followed her lead.

The night continued on in much the same way. The two of us would knock back drinks, although I had considerly more than Lyn, and dance the night away. The music slowed down a bit, and I wrapped arms around her a little tighter, pulling her close. Donna Summer's voice filled the room, singing, "Dim all the lights, sweet darling ... 'Cause tonight it's all the way ... Turn up the old Victrola ... Gonna dance the night away..."

All of a sudden Lyn fell forward, throwing me off balance. I took a few steps back, and put my hands on her shoulders in an attempt steady her, and myself as well. I looked over her left shoulder and saw Jordan standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest and looking smug. "Aww ... did I interrupt Billy Bob Hicktown and his little filly?"

Sara came to my aid; I was too busy trying to steady Lyn to give my full attention to Jordania. "Move on, lover boy. Just 'cause you can't find a date doesn't mean you can take it out on us."

Jordan took a swig of his drink. "Why do you stay with Billy Bob when you can be with me and Tiff?" He got a sick twinkle in his eye. "Two are much more fun."

Sara's eyes flashed with anger. "No thanks. I prefer to stay away from STDs."

Jordan downed the rest of his drink and took a step closer. He leaned in close and slurred, "When are you going to let me tame that sharp tongue?"

Sara snickered. "Do you practice to get lame comments like that?"

He dropped his cup, his face flushed from a mixture of anger and alcohol. He grabbed Sara's wrist and pulled her in close to him. "You wanna talk lame? How about the losers you came with?"

I wouldn't have thought Scott a violent person but with Sara safely behind him and Jordan clutching his stomach, I realized his wrath.

We left Jordan in the room, cursing all of us. Scott and Sara started dancing with a group of people, and Lyn stepped in close again, our bodies moving to the beat and Donna Summer's words, "Dim all the lights, sweet darling ... 'Cause tonight it's all the way ... Turn up the old Victrola ... Gonna dance the night away..."

I ran my fingers through her silky strands of brown hair. Slowly my fingers found their way underneath her chin. I tipped her face upwards, and slowly brought my lips down to meet hers. Someone bumped into us again, and this time it was harder for me to regain my balance. I closed my eyes, and I felt the room spin.

"Why don't we take a break and sit for a bit?" Lyn asked. She draped one of my arms around her shoulder, and supported my weight by wrapping one of her arms around my waist.

It was a short walk to the couch, but it kept feeling as if someone was leaning the room on me. When we finally sat down, once again I felt the sensation of the room moving in circles. I closed my eyes and then...

"...and I don't remember anything after that," I told Lyn, unable to look her in the face.

"I'm not surprised. That's when you passed out," she told me.

I looked up and grinned sheepishly. "Uh ... yeah, sorry about that."

She smiled. "It was to be expected. To tell you the truth, I wasn't exactly in hot shape myself, either."

"Well, do you think we could try again. Maybe ... coffee this time, or something?" I knew it was a long shot, but I refused to give up hope. Something was just telling me I had to get to know her better, spend more time with her.

"Sure. How about Wednesday? I get off of work at 8. Wanna just meet me there?" She smiled wide.

"Sounds good. So ... Wednesday at 8?"

She nodded. "Wednesday at 8 it is."