>Mallory
"Jackpot!" she replied.
Her voice came through the phone thick and unclear, like her mouth was full of water. Every word dragged behind the other, slurred and messy. I pulled the phone a little farther from my ear, staring at the screen as if it could explain what was going on.
Why did she get drunk this much?
Mara could drink. Everyone knew that. She always bragged about it, always laughed it off. Her alcohol tolerance was through the roof. She was usually the one carrying others home, not the one asking for help.
Something felt wrong.
"Hey," I said, straightening my back. "Be honest with me. Do you have a problem?"
My grip tightened around the phone, my fingers pressing hard against the case. I stayed still, listening. The line was quiet, only her uneven breathing coming through.
