Survival Of The Fittest

[Jackson Sullivan Dropping in From Trapped in the Bathroom: Chapter 173 [HD 1080p]]

“Erika! Come back, dammit!”

This was not at all how Jackson saw his night going. Following a girl he barely knew out onto the roof of Forrest’s mansion was not really something he thought he’d be doing at this point of the night. His mind was sobering up big time as he followed behind the girl slowly and carefully. He never really had a fear of heights before, but crawling on the ledge of a roof in an attempt to stop a girl from potentially hurting herself in the middle of the night would make anyone’s palms sweat.

Fuck.

She was just ahead of him, he could see her stopped at a window. Was she going to ask to be let in? Thank fucking god. His heart could only take so much. Now he’d just meet up with her over by the window and they could go back inside the house to where it was safe.

And she’s crawling away.

Fuck.

“I’m gonna fucking kill her when I catch up to her, I fucking swear.” He mumbled to himself, still doing his best to keep his balance on the ledge he was currently crawling on.

He reached the window she had been looking in, and peered inside to see two girls looking back at him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Everything’s fine! I got this!” he shouted at the pair unconvincingly, before continuing his journey.

How did he get himself involved in this mess?

[Jackson Sullivan Follows Erika Elsewhere]

Camilla took the joint back into her fingers and exhales, and just nodded as Bert got up to investigate the thudding that she, herself, was probably a bit too out of it too really care about.

And then she promptly stopped nodding because she nodded way too hard. Oh Jesus. She took the cigar/joint/just fucking- GAH. She put it to her mouth again, and inhaled. The smoke scraped the inside of her mouth. It felt like a knitted sock from Aunt Caroline. Nice, but itchy. With an exhale, she stretched, eventually finding herself half-lying on the bed and goddamn what a comfy bed. Forrest must be living the life.

...Oh Jesus, was that somebody outside the window? Rambling about the moon, like it was one of their classmates. To be fair, she'd much rather have the moon as a peer than the likes of Ivy or Wyatt. She wondered about telling the girl that the moon was actually a rock born of the Earth that orbited it, but she was gone and replaced by some guy before she could be a party pooper.

Whoever he was, he did not seem fine.

"I'm too old for this shit," Camilla sighed, wondering if her birthday in the fall she guessed made her younger than Bert.

Holy shit!

Erika and Jackson were looking for the fucking moon. Between the earlier bump on the door and this shit there was all sorts of garbage going on at this party that Bert wanted to look at, to gawk at, just to wander around and take everything in, and she hadn't even toked up yet. Cam-cam made a sarcastic gibe that made Bert chuckle a bit because she knew those apprehensions would just melt soon. Just absolutely fall away.

Bert nodded and smiled and made her way over to the bed where the weed and rolls were. She got her shit together a lot quicker than she had when showing it to Cam, lit it, put it to her mouth, puff puff, ah, scratchy cotton balls in her throat. Just had to wait a little while. More you did it, less you had to wait.

"Hey," she said to Camilla, though her face may have been pointing slightly left of center, "I think I'm gonna go explore for a little while. You can follow me if you wanna."

Bert picked up most of her rolls and weed, but gave enough for Cam to roll a couple more on her own if she wanted to. Now, about the weird moon?

She turned and waved as she left the room, half expecting to never see Camilla again.

[Bert Wren continued elsewhere.]

With a tiny nod carefully crafted to not make her drug-addled head spin, she acknowledged Bert's desire to see the world outside their weed-infested hidey hole. A bird leaving the nest. The mother bird abandoning its adopted child that it lovingly taught how to fly. Wait, what?

"Yeah, have fun," was her parting shot to Bert, as she sprawled out even more onto the bed, still clinging to that joint between two fingers. Did she even care about the terminology anymore? It sure didn't feel like it as she exhaled again.

Camilla was too busy staring at the ceiling to really see her unexpected companion off. Maybe that was rude of her, she thought as the smoke she brought back up to her lips scratched like a knitted sock, again. Soon, slowly blinking replaced the internal clock that was always ticking. Always nagging. Omnipresent. Her brief trance was interrupted by a buzzing in her pocket, prompting her to automatically pull out her phone.

Before she could even note what the insignificant text from her mother said, the time glared at her, and the anxious ticking started again.

Oh shit.

[Camilla Bell continued back at Just Dance]