Chapter 9June 27th
I could hear the tinny, distant voice of the 911 operator through Ricky’s iPhone, which I had dropped next to the toilet, asking me what was happening. I heaved again, harder, when I tried to say something.
I half expected Jessa’s soft, well-manicured hands to gently grab my hair to keep it out of the line of fire, but no helpful hands came. I threw up the soda I had sipped while we ordered and what was left of my prom dinner; I’d had the chicken. It did not taste as good coming back up as it did going down, and it hadn’t been great in the first place.
The world faded in and out of blackness as I rested my head against the toilet seat. I had neglected to put it up in my rush to empty my stomach.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, whispered, “Jessa?” but the sound came out
