I float in the dark for God knows how long. Then, little by little, consciousness chases away the numbness, the nothingness. I feel my body sobering up in increments. One by one, my senses start functioning again.

Smell.

Pine-scented air freshener hits my nose.

Taste.

A foul tang lingers on my tongue. I try to swallow it. Mouth feels dry. Like sandpaper.

Touch.

Hands explore surroundings. My fingers glide across something smooth. Supple.

A leather seat?

I must be sitting down.

Sight.

Eyes blink open.

I see that I'm inside a car.

My awareness sharpens with each passing second. I no longer feel drunk. The foggy, fucked up heaviness has finally lifted. My mind's clear-headed enough to know that I'm slumped over the passenger seat of someone's car.

Hold up.

Whose car is this?

My entire body tenses up. I begin to panic all over again. 

That's when I hear the spawn's voice, "Thank God. You're finally awake."

I glance over. Cruz is sitting in the driver seat. He looks at me. For once, his expression appears anxious, concerned, caring.

He also seems... relieved?

It softens the usual harshness in his demeanor. I'm not used to seeing him this way. My heartbeat quickens. My skin grows warm. I avert my gaze to calm my nerves. I stare out the passenger side window. My mouth forms a small, shocked O when I realize that we're parked in front of a hospital.

"Why are we here?" I ask with an uneasy laugh.

"I was about to carry you into the ER. I worried you might be overdosing or something."

Alarm rises in me.

The emergency room?

I mumble, "Is that really necessary?"

"I mean, I guess you're awake now," Cruz observes, "but what if something else happened to you?"

"Like what?"

"You know."

Unfortunately, I do know. My memory is a little spotty, but something could've happened while I was unconscious. I try to stay positive, though. My bra and panties were still on when I woke up, so I'm pretty sure Cruz and Alison found me before—

Before what?

A chill travels down my spine. I don't allow myself to process this scary train of thought. I don't want to rehash the crazy shit that transpired tonight. I'm fine now.

I'm fine.

Nothing bad happened to me. I simply had a strong-ass reaction to some strong-ass punch. The spawn's totally overreacting.

"No, no, there's no need," I protest in a rush, "I feel great. I don't wanna go to the hospital. Let's just head home before my aunt realizes that I'm gone!"

He sighs, "Athena..."

"Yes?"

Cruz shoots me a troubled look. "You should still get checked out. I think your drink might've been spiked with something."

"Spiked?"

"Yeah, spiked," he grunts. "Alison mentioned something weird to me earlier."

"What did she say?"

"She told me that Chrissa asked her to give you a cup of punch."

It takes a moment for his meaning to process. Once it hits home, I balk in disbelief, "Are you suggesting that Alison and Chrissa drugged me?"

Cruz grimaces. "We won't know for sure unless you get tested for it."

"I don't wanna get any tests done. I don't need the drama. Like I said earlier, I'm fine now."

He clicks his tongue in frustration. "What if you're not, though? You were out cold for a long time. Who knows what Chrissa or Alison put in your drink?"

This is starting to freak me out. So, I get defensive. Then, combative. "Leave me alone. Why do you care so much about me, all of a sudden?"

"Because," Cruz growls angrily, "I'm mature enough to know when shit's too serious to fuck around with!"

His outburst catches me off guard. It sobers me up even more, and I find myself giving in to Cruz's reasoning against my will.

"Fine. Maybe you have a point. Chrissa might be evil enough to fuck with my drink," I mutter, "but Alison wouldn't do that to me. She's not that kind of person."

"Maybe Alison didn't do it intentionally. She was the one who came to me for help, after all."

Something doesn't add up. My brow wrinkles. "Why did Alison go to you for help?"

No one at school has figured out the fact that my aunt is engaged to his dad. They aren't even aware that Cruz and I live together—

Oh, wait, I almost forgot. Alison and I had been making small talk in the backyard.

Shit.

How much did I tell her?

Cruz shoots me a knowing look. "Alison said that you call me The Spawn."

Too much, apparently.

"Sorry," I mutter, "I guess I get chatty when I'm drunk."

"Apology not accepted."

"Why not?"

"Because she also told mentioned something else."

I eye him warily. "Like what?"

He glares. "Like how you think I'm the biggest dickhead in the world."

I don't even try to deny it. "Definitely sounds like something I'd say."

His handsome face darkens with displeasure. "I swear to God, Athena, you're nothing but trouble. I'm gonna let this shit slide tonight since you need my help. Next time, though, keep your big mouth shut, and don't talk about me with your friends."

I'm barely paying attention at this point. My mind is elsewhere. "Wait. I'm confused."

"About what?"

"Why would Alison go to you for help after I told her how much I don't like you?"

"Yeah, her logic makes zero sense. But, to be fair, the girl was blitzed."

I guess he has a point.

My focus moves on to something else. If Alison was with me when I zonked out the first time, then maybe she knows how I got from Point A to Point B? The backyard to the bedroom?

I study Cruz anxiously. I'm a little scared to ask, "Did she tell you anything about what happened after I passed out?"

Cruz frowns as though he's unsure, too. "At the time, I couldn't really get a straight story out of Alison. She was really out of it, you know? I had to do some guesswork to fill in the blanks."

"What did Alison say to you?"

"She kept saying that you fell asleep and Chrissa and Brody took you to a bedroom. To lie down. To rest. But she didn't feel right about it. Because they told her to go away and locked the door."

Hesitantly, I begin to digest this new information.

According to Cruz, Alison sounded the alarm when Chrissa and Brody took me away, which means they were the ones in the bedroom with me. My brow creases as I try to dip into my memories.  I vaguely remember hearing Chrissa's voice while I was on the bed with Brody.

What did she say again?

I wrack my brain for answers, but my mind gives me nothing.

Fortunately, I recall the other parts of the night quite clearly. I know that Chrissa cheated on her boyfriend with Brody. I remember that I was the one who caught them in the act.

Dread creeps over me as an uncomfortably dark realization clicks in place.

What if this is their way of teaching me a lesson? 

Are they trying to shut me up?

It feels so extreme, though. So evil. Too evil. Even for someone like Chrissa.

I know a lot of kids at Sam's party like Chrissa. They live in big houses. Their parents have good jobs. Most of them look down on me. I know I'm an outsider, an outcast. Too poor, too different, to fit in with the rich, preppy Scottsdale crowd. I know they can all be kind of mean and nasty, but I never thought Chrissa and Brody were capable of taking things to this level.

Fuck me. I don't know what to think. I just want to curl up in a ball and pretend like none of this ever happened. Wetness pricks my eyes.

This doesn't escape Cruz's notice.

"Hey," he murmurs, "you okay?"

No.

No.

No.

I'm not okay.

But I'm too proud to break down in front of the spawn.

Briefly, I wonder if Alison was in on it, too, and I feel like crying all over again. I blink away the tears. In a small voice, I ask him, "Do you think Alison was working with them?"