Page 122 of Dirty Chorus

“Yes.”

We end up walking to her dorm. I’m drunk enough to feel the floor sway a little, but not enough to stop talking. I keep pulling my flask out, and by the time we climb up the stairs I'm out of juice, just drops on my tongue.

When she opens her door, I stop dead in my tracks. It’s still the same sheets. I thought I was tripping, but no it’s fucking princess sheets. Like, full-on pink, sparkly, cartoon crowns and everything. I blink, then start laughing. “Oh my God. Are you serious?” I point at it.

She throws her backpack at me. “Don’t start.”

“No, no, this is amazing,” I say, stumbling toward her bed. “A college student with fucking princess sheets.”

She groans, pulling her hair into a bun. “I can’t afford new ones, sorry I lived in a trailer park. Ever heard of Cloud Nine?”

“They’re hilarious,” I say, dropping onto her bed and immediately sinking into the soft blankets. “You’re never living this down, Princess.”

She glares, but her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re such an ass.”

“Maybe,” I mumble.

I end up staring at Charlie’s side of the dorm room. All the posters she put up, some of them being bands from the late nineties. The still strung led lights hooked to the fake leaves hang down the walls. I’m sure those light up nicely in the dark. I switch beds to sit down on Charlie’s, and it’s cold.

“Did you know she wrote songs?” I pick up one of her pink throw pillows and a few stuffed animals she wedged into the corner of the bed.

“She wrote?” Payton asks. “I know she had a diary but that was it.”

“She wrote a song several years ago saying one day she would give it to a guy she was in love with. She gave me that song.” When I lay down on her pillow, it’s just a hint of her left. Only a small fragment of Charlie left. “I spent eight hours with the guys figuring out how to sing it, and the beats that would go with it. I wanted to surprise her with that song. It came out so good.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“What kind of fucking power does this guy have over you both?” I ask, my palms held out begging for an answer.

Payton swallows, rubbing her upper arm. “My reputation is ruined because of Brody. I’ve been waiting for Cheer Phi to discover my nudes. I don’t even want to cheer anymore, and I’ve been chased and harassed on campus by every guy here.”

“And security doesn’t do anything?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” she shrugs.

“Seriously? Why? You two could have prevented a lot of this if you stuck up for yourself.”

“Do you think they would even do anything?” Payton asks.

I pause for a moment. “I went to the police about the note she wrote in the stall.”

“And what did they say?”

“They said they appreciated the information, but nothing I guess.” I rub my hands together. “I just fucking hate that douchebag. If I had the chance I’d beat his face in too.”

“As far as I know Brody’s been released from the hospital.”

“He deserves to go back.”

“I know... but I'm going to shower.” She gathers her toiletries and heads out of the room, and the door softly clicks.

I fall onto Charlie’s bed, my head staring up at the ceiling. I’m terrified of not remembering the sound of Charlie's voice. I curl up with her pillow, and my hand hits something hard. As I take a look, it’s a journal underneath her pillow. I sat there for a second before opening it. The pages are filled with notes and doodles, and then I stop at one page with my name at the top.

You found me

In all of my wreckage

Hand stained with yesterday