Try to get Rachael's help

"Damnit, I need to go get her back Rach. What am I gonna do?" My voice strecthed thin as I paced the living room. Rachael pounded a liter of water in one go, an exhale of release from her lips. The black wool PJs she wore had frayed drawl strings matching her tangled nest of morning hair.

"No. You have to tell me what the hell happened last night. Then, if your lucky Mom doesn't hear about it." She demanded, leaning over the sink while preparing for another rush of hydration. Her soreness awaited sobriety before announcing it's stay.

I tried my best to explain without talking about the Axe spray, but she found it all hard to believe.

"Ria would never do that though, really Michael? She's only kissed like one boy before. I mean, she just got her braces off, hell I dont even know if she has even... her.. whoa, ugh hold on..." she paused, looking woozy for a minute, eyeing the sink. After a moments pause however, a nasty belch clears out from her stomach. "Shit, almost puked, sorry."

"You're a real class act." I jabbed annoyingly, grabbing my phone to text Ria.

"Thats coming from you, eh? Oh, and don't even try." She advised, "Her dad definitely has her phone. He pulls shit like that, goes through her photos and texts."

I drop the cell onto the sofa, frustrated. My hands grab around the back of my neck and my mind begins to race. Is she in trouble? Hell, am I going to get in trouble? Will we even see each other again after this? What if she's pregnant? Can she even get preg--

!?! "Oh my god.. bleeeeggghhhuughh.." Rachael bemoaned before blasting the sink with her projectile vomit.

"Jesus sis, you ok?" I asked, standing and startled by the sheer velocity of it.

As soon as she cleared herself, she yelled into the stainless steel sink, "Why the fuck is their a nasty ass dish of cold chunky curry on the counter Michael!? Oh my god.. I just threw up cause of that.."

"Its.. Deshas.." I started to say, realizing she might be my chance. "I'll bring her back the bowl and talk to Desha!" I said excitedly, running to the kitchen, I emptied the leftovers into the other side of the sink with the disposal.

"You're what?" She started to ask before the wave of red chunk sauce splashed up against her head, a wave of smells and chicken bits smashing her in the face. "!!! MICHAEL !!!" She screamed, but it was already too late. I was halfway out the door and couldn't hear her by the time she could wipe the Tikka from her eyes. Just the sound of my own footsteps rushing down the stairs.