The Edge of Never. J. Redmerski A.

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       Four

      My cell phone wakes me up the next morning. I hear it buzzing around on the nightstand beside my head. NATALIE reads in bold letters across the screen and her wide-eyed, toothy smiling face is staring back at me. Seeing her face wakes me the rest of the way up and I rise up stiffly from the bed and just hold the phone in my hand, letting it buzz against my palm for a few seconds more before finally getting the courage to hit the answer button.

      “Where did you go?” her voice shrieks into my ear. “Oh my God, Cam, you just disappeared and I was freaking out and Damon was missing for a short while and then he showed back up and I saw Blake leaving at one point with blood all over his damn face and then I really started to see what you were talking about when you said that Damon was pissed—” She finally breathes. “And I kept asking him what I did or said or if it was because of last week at the restaurant, but he just ignored me and said it’s time to go and I—”

      “Natalie,” I cut in, my head spinning with her run-on sentences, “just calm down for a second, alright?”

      I toss the blanket off me and get out of the bed with the phone still pressed to my ear. I know that I have to do this, to tell her what Damon did. I have to. Not only would she never forgive me later when she found out, but I would never forgive myself. If the tables were turned I would want her to tell me.

      But not over the phone. This is a mandatory face-to-face discussion.

      “Can you meet me for coffee in an hour?”

      Silence.

      “Uhh, yeah, sure. Are you sure you’re alright? I was so worried. I thought you got kidnapped or something.”

      “Natalie, yes, I’m …” I’m totally not fine. “Yes, I’m fine, OK. Just meet me in an hour and please come alone.”

      “Damon’s passed out at his house,” she says and I detect the grin in her voice. “Girl, he did things to me last night I never knew he could do.”

      I shudder at her words. They’re like screaming entities blaring at me on the other end of the phone but I have to pretend they’re just words.

      “I mean I couldn’t even think about sex until I knew you were OK. You wouldn’t answer your cell so I called your mom at like three and she said you were asleep in your bed. I was still so worried because you just left and—”

      “One hour,” I interrupt before she goes off on another tangent.

      We hang up and the first thing I do is look at the missed calls on my phone. Six were from Natalie, but the other nine were from Damon. The only voicemails though were left by Natalie. I guess Damon didn’t want to leave any incriminating evidence behind.

      Not that I need evidence. Natalie and I have been best friends since the bitch stole my Corduroy Cool Barbie Doll at a sleepover.

      I’m fidgeting by the time she shows up and have drunk down over half of my latte. She plops down on the empty chair. I wish she wasn’t smiling so much; it’s only making it that much harder.

      “You look like hell, Cam.”

      “I know.”

      She blinks, stunned.

      “What? No sarcastic ‘thanks’ followed by your famous rolling eyes?”

       Please stop smiling, Nat. Please, just take my strange UNsmiling behavior serious for once and look at me with a serious face.

      Of course, she doesn’t.

      “Look, I’m just going to cut right to it, OK?”

      There it is: finally the smile starts to fade.

      I swallow and take a deep breath. God, I can’t believe this happened!

      “Cam, what’s going on?” She senses the severe measure of what I’m about to tell her and I can see in her brown eyes how already she’s trying to figure out if this is something she wants to hear, or not. I think she knows it has something to do with Damon.

      I see the lump move down the center of her throat.

      “Last night, I was out on the roof with Blake—”

      Her worried face is suddenly assaulted by smiles. It’s as if she’s grabbing a hold of the opportunity to mask the inevitable news with something she can joke around about.

      But I stop her before she has a chance to comment.

      “Just listen to me for a minute, OK?”

      Finally, I’ve reached her. The natural playful spirit that always exudes from her face drains right out of her.

      I go on:

      “Damon thought Blake took me out on the roof to have his way with me. He stormed out and blew up on Blake; beat the shit out of him. Blake left understandably СКАЧАТЬ