Chris, however, is too pissed off. And scared. “Sabin, man! Get the fuck back over here!”
“There you are!” Sabin turns our way and holds out the tray, which holds what’s left of a six-pack. The cans and plastic rings are covered in the snow that has started to fall. “Beverage, anyone?”
“I think we’ve all had enough,” Chris says. “Especially you. Stop screwing around. It’s time to come inside.”
Sabin just looks past Chris. “Coming, my Blythe?”
I step in front of Chris. My whole body is shivering. “Sabin. Look at me. This is dumb.”
He ignores me and throws the beer our way. We let it fly and it lands on the floor of the balcony. “Then I’ll go without you.” He plants the tray onto the landing and sits down, his legs hanging over onto the icy roof.
“This isn’t fucking funny. Please, Sabin.”
“Don’t you worry, B. Zach and Eric are going to catch me. See?” He points to the lawn just in front of where we are.
Zach and Eric are now holding up a mattress by balancing it on their heads. Or not so much balancing it as they are reeling back and forth while trying to balance it. But the effort is there. Estelle has turned her back, clearly unable to watch.
“Oh God.” Chris sounds desperate.
“Sabin, please. Come back inside with me,” I plead.
“If you’re not coming, I’m flying solo.” Sabin inches the tray forward.
“You’re going to die!” Chris’s voice breaks.
“Don’t be so dramatic. I can live through anything. Watch.”
“Wait.” I throw my legs over the railing and stand a foot away from my stupid, stupid drunk friend.
“No, Blythe!” Chris grabs the back of my jacket and keeps me from going forward. “Don’t you dare. Do you understand me? Don’t youfuckingdare.”
I turn to him. “I’m fine. Trust me.”
“He’ll pull you down with him. No.”
I remove his grasp on my coat, but he holds my hand tightly in his. “Trust me,” I say again. I slowly move out onto the third-story rooftop. I sit down next to Sabin, my right hand still being nearly crushed by Chris’s as he leans over the railing. He won’t let me go, I know that. “Let’s just talk for a second, Sabe. If you still want to tray off here, we will. But first we talk. Deal?”
“Alrighty, B.” He puts his arm around me and drops his head onto my shoulder. I’m pretty sure that Chris is on the verge of breaking my hand. God, Sabin is so drunk. I smell beer, for sure, but something else. Bourbon, maybe? I didn’t even see him drink that.
“Here’s the thing, Sabe. I’m really cold, and I really want to go inside. And I really, really don’t want to sled off the roof.”
“Tray.Tray off the roof,” he corrects me.
“I really don’t want to tray off the roof,” I say matter-of-factly.
“I do,” he says.
“I don’t want to, sweetheart. I really, really believe that you’re going to get smashed up, and if you make me go with you, I’m going to get smashed up also.”
“Well, that would suck,” he says. “You just got all happy again, didn’t you?”
“I did. And I’m not going to be happy if I’m all smashed up.”
He sighs into me. “I don’t want that either. It’s just that…”
“What?”
“Sometimes I get so tired. You understand that, don’t you?”
