Harris slept in, not that he had any reason to get out of bed. He woke up with a pounding in his head, but it didn’t feel gunshot related. Groaning, he saw a half full glass of rum and Coke on his bedside table. The sight turned his stomach.
How many did I have?
He stumbled out of bed and slipped into a pair of plaid boxers on his way to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he threw up thick, dark yellow bile.
Fuck Mr. Winters.
“Are you okay in there?” Tucker called from the other side of the door.
“Yeah.”
“Should I tell Mitchell?”
“No! Just had one too many. S’all.”
“Should you drink that much yet?”
“Probably not,” Harris said. He wanted to argue more, but only yellow bile came out. After rinsing his mouth out and then washing his hands in scalding hot water, he passed a worrie
