The Black Rose
Entry 6

“Dude, are you okay?”

I stirred, my eyes blinking softly. “Earth to Dani,” I heard a familiar high-pitched voice yammer.

“She’s alive,” Cassy squealed, sensing the alarm in her voice.

“What happened?” I stammered as my brain fog dissipated.

“We were hoping you would tell us that,” Mo asked worriedly.

I sat upright, the blood rushing to my head, giving me an instant headache. “I, I don’t remember,” I stammered, touching my neck, which felt sore.

“Was it aliens?” Cassy questioned, brow furrowed, “Because you know there have been more sightings lately, more activity, and some think—”

“It wasn’t aliens,” I breathed exasperated. “I guess I just fainted.”

“Well, I’ve been telling you to drink more water and eat more vegetables,” Cassy sassed, never missing an opportunity to rub her hippy-dippy vegetarian views in my face.

“Easy does it,” Mo cooed, helping me up.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s seven,” they both chimed. “When you didn’t respond to our fifty calls, we just came over.”

I looked around for any sign as to what might have happened. “Should we cancel game night? We should probably be cramming for finals anyway...” Mo trailed.

“Hell, no, you know we don’t study,” I muttered sardonically, “Just give me a minute. You guys order us a pizza—”

“Covered,” Mo interrupted, “Cassy got pizza, vegetarian of course, and beer on her way over.”

“I see you were really worried about me then,” I grinned.

“Hey, we were,” he shrugged, as he jammed a handful of chips in his mouth. “I just knew if we came empty handed we would starve,” he mumbled inaudibly with the massive wad of chips crunching as he talked.

I shook my head. Mo’s dreads and Bob Marley t-shirt, baggy jeans, and thick black glasses made him look like the quintessential slightly overweight hipster or pothead.

“I had to practically beg Mrs. Percy to let me in your apartment,” Cassy added.

“I’m surprised you succeeded,” I scoffed, “That old lady doesn’t budge on anything.”

“I had to promise to help her clear the viruses off her computer,” Mo rolled his eyes. “Little does she know I added a little backdoor to her computer just in case we ever get bored,” he grinned mischievously.

“And that’s why we’re friends,” I smiled, which couldn’t be truer. Not only were these two nerds as brilliant with computers as me, they also loved to avoid people, to drown their emotions with games and hacking, and shared similar levels of disdain for human incompetence as me.

“What game are we going to kick ass in tonight?” I asked, my headache stabilizing.

“I was thinking Call of Duty...of course,” Mo called behind him, already taking his usual seat and favorite controller. Cassy took her spot on the left side of the couch and sat my favorite controller in my seat on the right side.

I moved to the fridge and grabbed the restocked beers as tradition, and set the other two down on my Star Wars vintage coasters. I put my headset on and Mo pressed play. Five hours whirled by as the Three Musketeers annihilated the competition. We played until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer. Cassy and I slept on the couch side by side, and Mo sprawled out on the bean bag cushion on the ground, snoring loudly. My suspicious fainting spell drowned in greasy food, beer, and the monotonous drum of video game euphoria.