Luc shifted in his chair. He really needed to stretch soon. His muscles cramped up. The mess in his diaper mushed around. He made a face.
Mrs King caught his expression. She’d babysat Lucas and Rosie often when they were children, so she easily read his face. She peered closer at him. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You look flushed. Your eyes are glassy.” She laid a warm hand on his forehead.
He stiffened, fighting the urge to cringe away. His diaper was such a swampy mess, he never felt himself peeing.
“You don’t have a fever, but you don’t look good at all.”
Luc forced a nervous smile. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long night…” He trailed off, wondering how to broach the subjects of Rosie and a ride home. Luna shoved her head into his lap. He rubbed her ears.
Rosie’s foot twitched, drawing Mrs King’s attention. “Rosie, what the hell are you doing?”
Rosie giggled. “SHHHH! Nuffin! I’m hot. It feels good. The moon’s pretty.” She kicked at the air, feet dancing.
Mrs King peered closer at her. She studied the girl’s glassy, unfocused eyes, constricted pupils, and disheveled clothes. The older woman sniffed, smelling the alcohol on the teenager’s breath. Her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her face tightened in anger.
Feeling a storm come on, Luc shrank in his seat. His diaper crinkled. Luna nudged his hand, so he pet her.
Mrs King took several deep breaths, calming her rage. When she spoke, her voice was taut as a bowstring with suppressed tension. “Young lady, have you been drinking?”
“Nope!” Rosie’s answering smile was lopsided.
“Did my Beth and the other girls drink with you?”
“Nope! Nope. Nope. Nope.” Rosie broke into slurred, hysterical laughter, amused at the sound of the word. She repeated it over and over as she laughed. She rolled onto her side, sweater coming up to reveal the scrunched top of a generic white pullup.
Mrs King’s eyebrows rose. “Rosie, are you wearing a diaper?”
“Nope! It’s a pullup!” Her slurred voice rose to a random, drunken shout. “Cuz last time we drank, we peed ourselves! Remember? Stupid cops wouldn’t let us change our pants! Well, I remembered! Then I remembered Lucas. He pees his diapers all the time and no one knows. He poops them! So, if we wear pullups like Lucas, no one will know if we pee. See?” Rosie shot the older woman a lopsided grin, drunkenly proud of her logic.
“Rosie!” Lucas yelled, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
Mrs King shook her head in disgust. She turned her back to them, pulled her cellphone out of her pocket, and called her husband. She explained the situation, told him to look for their daughter Beth and the other drunk girls while she handled Rosie and Lucas. Hanging up, she spied the styrofoam cups from earlier. She picked one up, sniffed it, and frowned at the smell of bourbon.
“That was hot chocolate.” Lucas spoke up softly. He buried his fingers in Luna’s thick fur. She licked his cheek. He wished he had his pacifier, but it was dirty from the ground. He didn’t want his cousin in trouble, but she couldn’t keep up this bad behavior.
“Did you have some of this, Lucas?” Mrs King held a cup out to him.
He lowered his head. “Yes, ma’am. It tasted funny and made me feel weird.”
“So that’s what’s wrong with you.” He cringed at her words. “Sweetie, you’re not in trouble. I know you’re a good boy who doesn’t drink.” She rounded on Rosie. The eighteen year old girl sat up and leaned against one of the big wheels on his wheelchair. Her legs were splayed, sweater pushed up and pullup on display. She looked like an oversized toddler.
Mrs King sighed, anger sinking like a lead balloon into a sea of disappointment. “Oh, Rosie. How could you? And with your grandmother in the hospital, too…I guess July wasn’t enough of a lesson. This time, you got Lucas drunk, too.”
Rosie’s glazed eyes widened. “Did not!” She shouted into the night.
“Don’t lie to me. Lucas doesn’t drink. Every time your mother and I turn around, you and Beth are soused every chance you get.”
“But I’m not lying! We didn’t do it!”
“Oh? I suppose the dog here did it.”
