Free Wilson Mooney, Almost Eighteen by Gretchen de la O Page A

even a letter of recommendation to Stanford. What cha
think?”
    I couldn’t tell her what I really
thought, because if I did, she would kick me to the snowy curb. But
before I could stop myself the words came shooting from my mouth
and the couple of I’m Running Naked drinks didn’t help.
    “ You’re such a bitch.” She
leaned back her face white as a ghost. “What the hell did you think
I was going to say? Go for it. Nick was right. You are the most
self-absorbed, conniving, heartless, demon of a person I
have ever met. I
don’t think you’re even capable of having a shred of common
decency. The fact you’re willing to blackmail Mr. Goldstein is so
frickin twisted and pathetic. I can’t stand here and look at your
face any longer. I’m out.” I walked away feeling pretty good that I
released all the angst that has been bubbling in my gut the entire
day. I glanced back and she hadn’t moved. She stood there, struck
by my words that were as sharp as daggers that sliced her down to
the bone.
    I had to find Max and tell him what
Cindy was planning. I had to protect him. I couldn’t lose him to
her petty stupid games. I scanned the living room thinking maybe he
was hanging with Nick; but no. I kept walking the entire main floor
of the house. I couldn’t find him anywhere; no Nick or Calvin
either. I ended up at the bottom of the stairs. Upstairs were all
bedrooms and bathrooms. My heart fell into my gut. There were a lot
of really pretty girls here—I didn’t want to think about it. I
didn’t want to think he was so shallow that he would’ve hooked up
with a girl he just met. My feet took my body up the stairs, my
heart pounded loud with each step. I could feel it aching while my
mind kept recycling a forged vision of pushing open Nick’s bedroom
door and finding Max with another girl that wasn’t me. I didn’t
want to do this, but I had to find him. I reached for the first
door knob, twisted it and pushed the door open.
    “ Sorry, didn’t know someone
was in here.” I looked to see it wasn’t him then shut the door. One
down, three more to go, I twisted the knob on the second door, but
it was locked. I knocked but nobody answered. Great, that was easy
and less embarrassing. Third door, it wasn’t closed all the way and
I could hear voices. They sounded like they were talking so I
pushed the door open. It was Calvin with the red head he was trying
to hook up with earlier. They were sitting on Cindy’s bed looking
at a photo album.
    “ Oh sorry.” I started to
pull the door closed.
    “ HEY YOU, WAIT! It’s Wilma
right? Remember me, I’m Calvin, we met earlier— you were with Nick
and my brother,” he slurred his words and was way too loud. He
obviously had too much to drink.
    “ Yeah, that’s me, but it’s
Wilson.” I kept pulling the door shut.
    “ No hold on wait, did you
see what you did with my brother; because I can’t find him,
anywhere?” He stumbled forward and threw his hands in the air and
looked around at the ground. What a shining example of the
privileged elite of our society. I just hope he doesn’t puke on my
shoes.
    “ No, I didn’t see
where I put him.
But if I stumble across him I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”
I was losing my patience with this guy. He did the, I’m totally wasted stagger dance before he tried to open his eyes to look at
me.
    “ Well, if you happen to
remember where you hid him, tell him he’s gonna need to find
another ride home tonight. OK Wanda.” By this time the red headed,
one night stand, girl was over grabbing him, helping him stand
up.
    “ No problem Carson and my name is
not Wilma, Wanda or any other lame W name you come up with. It’s
Wilson, W-I-L-S-O-N. Like the frickin sports balls you play with.”
Calvin looked at me and stumbled back laughing. I slammed the door.
If he was going to be my future brother-in-law he’d better learn my
name, damn-it. He was such a tool.
    I’ve struck out with the first three
rooms. I