"I don’t think she wants to talk." Spencer threw the stool to the side.

     "Ashley, I swear we can’t take you anywhere. We’ve gotta get the hell out of here." Brad looked over his shoulder, being the only one tall enough to see over everyone. "The damned rent-a-cop is coming over here, and I for one, am in no mood to spend the night in jail."

     "Dude, neither am I." Jon grabbed Spencer’s hand and took off running. Ashley didn’t speak. She simply followed the others from the bowling alley, a somewhat stunned expression on her face.

***

     "You want to tell me what’s going on, now?" Spencer was sitting on the couch in Ashley’s massive livingroom. They had dropped Jon and Brad off at a Taco Bell close enough to campus so that the two would be able to walk back safely, but Spencer had refused to leave Ashley alone, that and the fact that if she went home, Ashley would have to drive back to her place alone after she had been drinking. I’m only being the designated driver…is what she told herself in an attempt to make it seem not so out of the ordinary to be going home with Ashley. She had been absolutely shocked by the immense size of the home her counterpart resided in. The lawn was big enough that she, her two brothers, and every kid from their old neighborhood in Ohio would have been able to play several games of kickball, or soccer, at the same time. Ashley had told her to close her mouth, that she was catching flies as she had sat in the car staring, but now the other girl had showered, and come back to sit with Spencer, the wet strands of her hair falling over her shoulder, dampening a spot on her tank top, her legs splayed out in front of her as she pulled on a loose strand attached to her boxers.

     "Yeah…I will…maybe. I dunno. Hold on, lemme get something." She stood abruptly, and walked into the kitchen. Spencer could hear the opening and closing of cabinets as Ashley rummaged around. She emerged around the corner, the look in her eyes venemous as she clutched an empty bottle in her hand. "Where. Did you. Put. My vodka." She pronounced each word slowly, the anger in her face melting into what she said.

     Spencer had gone into the kitchen while waiting for Ashley to get out of the shower, looking for…well, she didn’t know what she was looking for…but she hadn’t found anything. At all. The cabinets and refrigerator were bare. There were a few cans of vegetables, and those had gathered dust, letting Spencer know that they were rarely messed with, but she had found bottle upon bottle of alcohol. "I…" she hesitated. "I poured it out."

     "You what? What the fuck gives you the right to come into my house and throw away my shit? I need–" She swallowed, as though she were trying to hold back her anger. "I don’t need…I want my stuff back, but you threw it all away!"

     "I think you had it right the first time." Spencer spoke quietly. "I think you really need the alcohol, don’t you?"

     "I don’t need anything." The words came between clenched teeth, and Spencer could see her grinding her jaw, saw her hands tighten on the bottle until her knuckles turned white. "I don’t need anyone. I just wanted to have a drink but you had to–" the bottle shattered, spilling its fragmented pieces to the floor along with Ashley’s blood as it sliced open her palm. "Fuck!"

     "Let me help." Spencer was off the couch before she realized it, cradling Ashley’s bleeding hand in her own.

     "Dammit, I don’t need any help!" She tried to pull her hand away, but Spencer held it fast.

     "Ashley." She spoke the name with quiet command, waiting for the auburn haired girl to look at her. Waited for the stormy browns to make contact with the peaceful blues. "Let me help."