Just One Big Mistake

Just One Big Mistake is the fourth episode of Season One of LetItRock898 and Lead The Careers' hit fan fiction, Our High School Is Better Than Yours! and the fourth episode overall.

It's been a week since the party, and its attendants are still recovering from the night of chaos. Sam feels rough all day, and one quick visit to the local chemist reveals why.

Our High School is Better Than Yours! Season 1, Episode 4: "Just One Big Mistake"
Tom staggered across the hallway, colliding with several lockers, attracting several peculiar looks from other confused students. His head refused to halt spinning, and the vile taste of alcohol still lingered on his tongue, making him gag every few minutes. When he finally reached his locker, his fingers quaked as he tried to undo the dial.

"Hey, Tom!" he heard some scream into his ear, and he immediately grimaced, yet when he turned his head, he saw Ellie at the other end of the corridor. She approached him, her parchment skin pasty, dark rims circling her eyes. Obviously the activities of the disco were still affecting her.

"Hey, Ellie. Do you still have a hangover?" he questioned, rolling his forehead against the locker, trying to stop the tornado whirling round in his skull.

"Yes," she croaked, her throat as rough as sandpaper. "And I didn't drink as much as you. Can you remember anything that happened?"

"All I remember is arriving, which is really sad," he replied, still unable to undo the dial of his locker. Ellie pushed him aside and assisted him, her fingers flicking the dials round, choosing the correct numbers, wincing at every loud noise.

"Yeah, we all got pretty drunk. God, I came home at three o'clock in the morning and my dad went berserk! I was sober, thank goodness, but he thought I'd gone out to a club and slept with a ton of boys," she rambled on, swinging the locker door open, the edge of the metal shape scraping across her cheek. "What about you?"

"I just remember getting in and being sick all over the carpet. My parents went crazy, and made me clean it up whilst I was still dizzy. Made even more of a mess, and got bleach on my hand," he lifted his left hand; the pinkish flesh burned a brilliant red, scabs attempting to protect the wound grew slowly. Ellie winced again.

"Jeez, that looks painful," she muttered, and Tom nodded innocently. "I'd go to the nurse."

"Sam, are you alright?" Sam lay on the bench of the girls' changing room in the skin-tight uniform, the scent of body sweat and rotting deodorant encompassing her, a damp air lifting her, making her feel comfortable finally. Her head pulsed like a beating heart, pain coursed through her body and her stomach performed a full twenty-four-hour workout in her body; even after a week, she still felt the symptoms of drunkenness.

"Sam!" Delilah sat at her side, stroking Sam's blond curls, shaking her out of her haze. Sam still lay there motionless, eyes slightly open, arm across her forehead, aching madly all over. "Sam, are you there. Come on, babe, answer me!"

"I'm fine...stop it!" groaned Sam, weakly batting away her friend's hands. Her stomach wouldn't shut up, no matter how much Sam begged it to.

"No you aren't. Come on, Callie's calling everyone," said Delilah, arms folded across her chest.

"Tell Callie I can't do it today. I'm in pain," muttered the blond, groaning every time she moved.

"Blimey, Sam, it's been a week! The effects should have worn off by now! Have you got alcohol poisoning?"

"Erm...what's that?"

"I think it's when you drink too much alcohol when you first try it, or some sh!t like that. Jeez, I hope you haven't. Have you passed out?"

"No, not yet," Sam cried out as she jolted her arm, and the yell echoed across the lockers. Delilah winced, beginning to panic. "Please, just... tell Callie then leave me alone! My stomach is doing backflips!"

"You should be doing the backflips!" Delilah said worryingly, panic rising in her voice. "We need to get you to the nurse. Or hospital. Sam, what did you do at the party? How much did you drink?"

"Erm... I started off with cola, then someone must have spiked my drink whilst I was outside, because it certainly didn't taste like cola when I came back..."

"Yes, I remember you asking for another one. Oh, sh!t, I must have mixed up your drink with someone else's! And you liked the alcoholic one I gave you, you asked for another one! Sh!t, this is all my fault!" Salty tears began to stream down Delilah's cheeks and splashed on the cold floor; she sat next to Sam, clutching her friend's hand, and sobbed quietly into her palm.

"Delilah, shush, don't cry. This isn't your fault. But yeah, I need to go to hospital. Please," moaned Sam, and gently wiped away her pal's tears. The corners of Delilah's mouth gently shifted upwards.

"Come on, I'll take you to hospital." The brunette bent down and fastened her skinny arm around her friend's slender waist, and helped her onto her feet, unbalanced. Sam groaned at every step, installing sheer worry into Delilah's head, yet she assisted her out of the school (whilst attracting many curious glances).

"Did anything else happen at the party?" enquired Delilah as the two limped across the lifeless sidewalk, cars rolling past, not even bothering to pull over and ask if the two were alright.

"All I remember is drinking, then going up to the bedroom. I slipped on the stairs, and this good-looking guy helped me and then -" Sam froze as the memories of that night came rushing back. Instantly, she began hyperventilating, sweat beading on her forehead. How could she have done that? How could she have been so stupid?

"Delilah...I slept with someone."

"WHAT?!" screeched Delilah, clutching Sam's shoulders and shaking her like a ragdoll. "WHEN?!" Sam groaned as another wave of pain course through her, and she thumped Delilah's hands, making her let go.

"At the party...I was so drunk!"

"Didn't you use protection, you stupid girl?!"

"No, there was none, I..." Sam's thoughts raced at the speed of light. She'd slept with someone with no protection, and a week afterwards, her stomach hurt like mad and she couldn't move. Oh, God. Oh, God. Her soft eyes flickered up at her buddy, who was nodding lightly. "No. No, no, no! NO!"

"Yes! Yes, it's possible!" whispered Delilah, wiping the hot tears streaking down Sam's chalky cheeks, almost in tears herself.

"I can't be! No, I can't be! Please!" Sam sobbed uncontrollably, her face burned by the tears, red streaks staining her skin.

"There's only one way to find out, Samantha. Listen, there's a chemist just a couple roads from here. Let me go and get a test - stay here."

Delilah raced up the sidewalk, blinking back painful tears, the chemist in sight. She couldn't deal with the fact that her best friend might be pregnant, and that the father had no clue. But worse was that she had no idea who the father was.

Finally she reached the chemist. It was a comfy little building, with walls a beautiful shade of perfect turquoise, and a soft carpet with no misplaced fibers, smooth like a baby's skin. Towering shelves outlined the room, decorated with various medical supplies. Delilah approached one shelf and immediately started inspecting its contents. Antibiotics... sleeping pills... indigestion tables... baby milk... pregnancy tests! Bingo!, she thought, and grabbed one of the small, cuboid boxes. It felt light, almost weightless.

A young woman stood before the counter; her short ginger hair was pulled back in a bun, and she had a small cut on her left cheek. Delilah slowly approached her and dumped the box on the desk; the woman shot her a strange look.

"Four dollars," the woman muttered, and Delilah handed over the coins curtly.

Sam paced the sidewalk, arms clutched round her stomach, eyelashes glued together with drying tears. Where was Delilah? She promised she'd be back in a few minutes.

"Sam!" Delilah ran to her buddy, test in hand. "Here, I got one," she muttered, and shoved the box into her friend's hand. Sam looked motionlessly down at it, her face straight and dull. "Go behind the bush and do the test. It's the only way you can find out."

Sam groaned, and disappeared behind a huge, mis-shapen shrub which adorned the fields. Delilah nestled her face in her hands, worrying herself sick, praying that this whole incident was just a dream, and that she wasn't pregnant.

It felt like hours, but after a couple minutes, Sam emerged from behind the plant, clutching the instrument in her shaking palm. Delilah took it, shivering madly, and stared at the result.

Two vertical red lines against a snow white background.

"It's positive."

THE END