Why is the Sky Sad?

James was well aquatinted with the feeling of embarrassment. But that didn’t mean he liked it. In fact, since the buzz of alcohol had faded, James had a distinct loathing for a red face and skittish heart. He no longer wanted to watch Emma and Bea discuss Bea’s ruined shoes, and partially stained bottoms. All he wanted to do was drive himself home, curl up into his chair and become someone else for a while.

Of course he didn’t voice his thoughts, though through his constant fidgeting and heavy sighs, one could tell he didn’t feel right. He glanced up at the red numbers, noting that it was well after he was normally asleep, and again sighed. He knew Richard wouldn’t notice his absence, but he still hoped he’d ring. Embarrassment was no longer his number one concern, no, now it was mirrored by disappointment.

Bea, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the discomfort of her friend at all. She just felt woozy, hating that her stomach couldn’t handle the awful smell of vomit. It’d been almost an hour since they left the club, but the stench was still as vile as it first fell from James’ mouth. All her energy was slowly dissolving; having to keep her stomach from heaving its contents all across Emma’s lovely, tan carpet. She normally could pack away the alcohol, without any really retched side affects. But today, she was loosing it.

And as much as she hated to admit it, Bea was also extremely annoyed. These were her favorite shoes, and while she didn’t hate James for ruining them, she felt anger towards him. He could’ve turned away, could’ve swallowed the damn puke, or at least he could’ve waited until after he finished kissing her.

Bea turned a nasty shade of pink, pretending she hadn’t thought what she had. She told herself she was angry because of the shoes, not the kiss. James was just a stranger, a really shy one that obviously was in love with Emma. But that wasn’t really a surprise, everyone she knew loved Emma. Bea was never the first choice. And a kiss wasn’t really that big of a deal, she’d been kissed before and it never was as magical as the movies. In fact it was probably better that James’ hadn’t kissed her. Yes, it was for the better.

“Bea,” Emma called, a sickened look disguising her delicate features, “I don’t think I can get these stains out.”

Bea’s previous sexy black skirt, lay in Emma’s hands, looking, well in lack of other words, dead. Bea didn’t really mourn, though, knowing it had been bought with her stepmother’s money anyways.

“That’s alright, thanks for trying.”

Emma smiled, and Bea noticed James looking at her like she was some sort of angel. Bea felt herself growing flushed, a little green monster whispering nasty words in her ear. Life was never really fair.

“I think I’ll take a shower,” Bea tried to speak like she wasn’t in pain, “why don’t you give James a ride home?”

She didn’t wait for Emma’s answer, disappearing into her friend’s bathroom like she’d done a million times before. She didn’t cry, Bea’s tear ducts had been scarcely used from fifth grade on, but she felt as if she would.

She hated feeling sorry for herself, and because she had a pretty good life, she rarely did. But when the emotion came, it took her over like a tidal wave, crushing every ounce of rational thought from her mind. She slid herself down the door, sitting with her head and back pressed against the wood.

Bea was an overly dramatic person, the one who stirred up all the excitement in her group. But that was normally so she could avoid her own, or help Emma forget hers She figured, though, that with James and the anniversary growing near, neither of them could avoid it for long. Not unless she did something drastic.

As Bea turned on the steaming water, abandoning her post against the door, her thoughts swirled around like a hungry tornado. She tried to let go of her jealous feelings against Emma, reminding herself of all her best friend had to deal with. She would let her have the guys as long as she had the better family.

And with the green monster gone, Bea’s ideas ran a rampage in her mind. The date was coming closer and closer, and for Emma’s sake Bea needed to do something fast.


Maria had no idea why she was doing what she was. It’d been almost an hour since she first stepped into the car, turned on the ignition and began her search for James. And she was still no closer to finding him. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to go on the search-and-rescue mission in the first place. It was hopeless.

She pulled off the highway at the next exist, stopping at a gas station to collect her thoughts. After what seemed like forever in her mind, she decided she’d just go home and distract Richard for a while. She figured he probably wouldn’t be looking for their son anyways. And if he did notice he was gone, Richard probably wouldn’t care too much.

The night was pitch black, few cars daring to drive in the calm before the storm. The whole atmosphere had an eerie feeling to it and Maria itched to get home. She even dared to press her dainty foot harder against the petal, the speedometer climbing steadily.

Once she gets there to the house she’ll be fine.

Maria didn’t notice the car that refused to stop, running through the red light and closer to where Maria sat.



Emma was tired. Her hands weren’t gripping the steering wheel quit as hard as they should’ve and the shots she had taken still wore heavy in her stomach. She had decided that it’d be fine if she drove, for it’d been more than in hour. She was too embarrassed to tell James, after the first stop sign she missed, that she wasn’t okay to be behind the wheel.

She eventually convinced herself, that it didn’t matter anyways. There were very few cars on the rode and she didn’t live that far from her destination. She was almost to his home.

Once she gets there, she’ll be fine.

Emma didn’t notice that the yellow turned to red, and as she sped across the intersection, she didn’t notice the car that blocked her path.