Chapter 20:

The Afterparty

It’s All Just So Weird and Confusing


I woke up. My lips were cracked, and I could taste dried blood in my mouth. I looked around, confused.

I was in Paul's car, in the passenger seat. The windows were fogged, but it was clear I was parked along the road somewhere deep in the forest. I could hear a lone cicada, ahead of its time, followed closely by a woodpecker.

I was suddenly aware of the presence of a piercing headache, and lethargy struck me when I brought my hand to my head.

I tried remembering where Paul was and how I had gotten there—but I couldn't. I could remember sitting at a campfire, passing around a bottle of vodka. It tasted disgusting, but I drank it anyway to fit in. And then I remembered Paul's angry face, but why escaped me.

Fuck, I thought to myself, They’re going to be pissed.

I brought my phone out to survey the damage. It was 6 AM. I had blown up with calls from Liz and my father, and had a worrying low battery.

Nothing from my mother, I noted.

I swallowed, wetting my lips again. I called Liz back. She would be livid, but she'd probably pick up sooner.

The phone rang, and I rolled down the window, trying to let some fresh air in. The morning was hot, but the car was hotter.

"Noel? Where are you?" Liz frantically asked. “It’s Noel,” she explained to a third party.

"I don't know," I said, before kicking myself. "I-I mean, I'm in Paul's car. I just woke up. I think I blacked out." It hurt to admit it, but I didn’t have an excuse.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Can you get home?"

"I don't know. I-I-I don't know where Paul is. I just woke up and he's not here," I stammered, starting to realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh god,” Liz worried.

“Can you send us your location?" my father said, stoic.

“You should call Paul,” Liz said. “Or call his parents if you know their number.”

I was starting to shut down from the multiple commands. “I-I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I didn’t think—” I caught my breath, not knowing how to proceed.

“It’s okay,” Liz said patiently.

“Hey, just send us your location, and we’ll come get you and we can find Paul.”

“Okay,” I said shakily.

For the first time since the Change, tears were threatening to escape their ducts.

I opened up my maps, copied my coordinates, and sent them off to my father.

“We got them,” he said. “Just stay there and we’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” I said again.

“Be safe,” Liz said, before hanging up.

I sat back in the seat, and cried. I cried about my best friend being god knows where, I cried about fucking up so bad, I cried about not living up to my parent’s expectations, and to my own. I cried about being an idiot.

I’m so fucking stupid, I’m a dumb stupid idiot, I thought to myself, letting the tears poor. Paul is missing because of me, I unfoundedly blamed myself. Something in the fuzzy memories of the night before told me I was responsible.

I clutched the dashboard, trying to ground myself and failing.

It took a while for the waterworks to dry up. I felt marginally better afterward.

I decided it was time to call Paul. I prayed he still had his phone on him. I pulled out my almost-dead device again, and rang him.

There was nothing. I tried again: nothing.

I tried a third time—and I heard something. It was drowned out by the cacophony of the early morning woods, but somewhere out there was a ringtone.

I got out of the car, bringing my phone. I could feel my sweaty clothes drape off of me.

I walked to the edge of the woods, and called again. It was louder, and I followed the source.

I repeated the process, whacking away at the dense, fresh undergrowth, until I saw it.

There were shreds of cloth strewn about, and in the sticking out of the leaf litter was Paul's phone.

My stomach dropped.

I recognized the shreds as Paul’s clothes. I began to hyperventilate as anxiety wracked my body. “Paul!” I yelled.

No response. “Paul!” I screamed.

Paul!” I shrieked. “Please don’t be dead,” I whimpered, back to the verge of tears.

What the fuck happened? I want to remember so bad! I harangued myself.

“What happened?” I said out loud. The tears were back. “I want Paul back,” I told the forest.

I sat down near the scraps, wailing like a child. He can’t be dead, I begged, “Pl-lea-se!” I managed between sobs.

Images of Paul frantically parking the car and running out into the woods flashed in my mind, but I couldn’t tell what was imagined and what was real. It seemed like he was running from something.

Did he save me? I wondered.

I was still sobbing lightly, but I had enough wit about myself to head back to the car where my parents could find me. I couldn’t find him on my own, I reasoned.

I waited at the car for another fifteen minutes before they showed up.

When they did, I was ready for the scolding.

They exited the car. Jamie was in the back, sleeping.

“Noel, what happened?” Liz started.

“Are you alright?” my father continued.

I nodded, then shook my head.

“Where is your friend?” my father asked again.

“I don’t know,” I croaked, the sobs returning. “I found his clothes and his phone in the-the woods, and he wasn’t there.”

Liz held her arms out for a hug, and I made no effort to stop her.

I looked at the trees surrounding us, trying to suck up my emotions.

Liz rubbed my back and said, “It’s gonna be alright. We’ll find him.”

I swallowed and nodded.

She pulled away.

“Where did you see his clothes?” my father asked. “Can you take us there?”

I showed them the path, as painful as it was for me to return. They both looked as puzzled as I was, until my father noticed something. “Look, it looks like something big ran this way. All the branches and bushes are all broken.”

“We can’t go too far, Jamie is still alone in the car. I think we should call the police,” Liz said.

“You can go back to Jamie, I’ll follow the trail a bit and see if we can find anything. I won’t go too far, promise,” my father offered.

Liz huffed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It looks like an animal or a crazy person, you know?”

I gulped, terrified.

He sighed. “Okay, you’re right.”

We trudged back to the car, and we took off. My father busied himself with a call to the police. They wanted him to stay by the scene, but it was too late. I stared out the window, trying hard to put the pieces together.

No one knew Paul’s parent’s number, so we decided to pay them a visit. My parents thought it would only be fair for me to break the news to them. It would serve as part of my punishment, at the very least.

His house was only a few blocks from my own. It looked like every other prefabricated house in the neighborhood. I rang the doorbell. I hadn’t prepared, but it had to be done.

I waited and waited. But there was no response.

I rang again.


Finally, almost ten minutes after I rang, the door opened in a hurry.

“Noel, right? Is Paul with you?” a seemingly ordinary cacausian man wearing a bathrobe asked. I noticed prominent bruises on his wrists, and I reflexively rubbed my own.

I shook my head at his question.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know, sir, I-I’m so sorry, I woke up this morning, and Paul wasn’t there,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“I see,” he said, grim. “I guess you should come inside so we can talk. Your parents can come if they’d like,” he said loud enough for them to hear.

“O-okay,” I said. Liz and my father exited the vehicle, and my father grabbed Jamie.

We were invited to sit in the dining room.

Paul’s father explained everything he knew. We were left stupefied by his words, and somewhat frustrated at Paul. But I personally felt relief more than anything.

Paul’s father recommended that we wait for Paul to call. We hadn’t taken Paul’s phone, but his father seemed to think that was irrelevant.

And sure enough, towards the end of the discussion, the landline sounded. It was Paul.

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