Loud knocking on my bedroom window roused me from my sleep, aggravating my hangover.
“Huh?” Rubbing crust from the corners of my eyes, I lifted my head and squinted around the near dark room, shadows and outlines of my bureau and closet door slowly taking shape.
Another loud whack on the pane shook me to the core. I turned and was startled to see a dim silhouette on the roof outside. I opened the window.
“Who is it?” I mumbled.
It was Rocco, breathing hard.
He stretched one leg over the sill, and heaved the rest of himself into the room, falling across me and the bed and the dank smell of sweat and puke from earlier that evening.
Dad couldn’t get rid of the smell out of the carpet. He didn’t want to wake Mom and have to explain to her why I had been drinking and getting in after midn
