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I wake up in my own bed, my head pounding with intense pain. I feel groggy, and try to sit up. I immediately wish I hadn't. I flop back onto my pillow, and groan with agony.

It takes me a few minutes to realise what is wrong with me. I had... three glasses of vodka? - and clearly, I am hungover.

That's not something I ever thought I would say.

I had no idea I could feel this rotten.

I scavenge my brain for memories of last night, but few are clear and some are downright puzzling. Me swearing at Peter - but I never curse. Will making a weird comment about missing me and Christina. The floor swaying. Tobias's lips on mine. Tobias telling me I'm interesting. Tobias -

My eyes grow wide. Either the drink addled my perception of events, or there's a big possibility I did something very embarrassing in front of Tobias.

My cheeks flame. I try to resurrect that image again - of Tobias... kissing me, I think. But the ambiguity is still there. I can't make out what led to that kiss - if it even happened.

I pull the covers over my face. What if we did kiss, or worse, I initiated it?

Either way, even though it is blurry, I conclude that the image is still too detailed for it not to have taken place - and I know I will never be able to face Tobias again. I will have to drop out of the Running Club - I'll even risk getting caught by Amar, who won't take my departure lightly. It's a pity, because both my fitness levels and stamina are improving, but I can't. I can't.

I hear a slow turning of the door knob, and my mother appears, her brow furrowed.

"Beatrice," she says quietly, sitting on the corner of my bed. "You're awake."

"Shouldn't you be at work today, Mom?" I croak. I need a glass of water, so badly, but it's not a good time to ask.

"I took a day off," she explains. "I couldn't leave you and Caleb alone. I'm sure you've worked out why you're not well, by now."

"What's wrong with Caleb?" I say, clearing my throat. It doesn't help ease the thirst.

"He's in the same state as you." She raises an eyebrow. "Worse, in fact."

Caleb, hungover? Caleb, my big brother, the person I looked up to as a child, hungover?

"How did we get here, Mom?"

"We picked you up. Caleb rang us - we had no idea what he was trying to say, but it was clear he was drunk, so your father drove to Mel's house and collected you." She shakes her head, but she doesn't look angry - just disappointed. "You'd better apologise to your father. He's furious - with both of you."

I close my eyes with shame. My parents trusted us not to get into trouble, and we breached that trust. I don't know what convinced me that drinking that much alcohol was a good idea - one glass is forgivable, but not three; at least three. I mentally vow never to drink again, though only time will tell if I will stick to it.

"And I think we both know that we can't let you get away with this," Mom says.

I nod, then wince with the pain. I am beginning to feel a little sick.

"I convinced your father to postpone the punishment until the twenty sixth, so you can both enjoy Christmas day, however..." She pauses. "For one month, you will have to make every meal, and clean up afterwards. That includes setting and clearing the table, and washing up. Even if it means you have to wake up earlier to make breakfast."

I suppress a groan, but I know I deserve it. I shouldn't have been so irresponsible. But over four weeks of making breakfast, lunch and dinner... At least Caleb will be there to share the workload, but it's still very annoying.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I murmur as a wave of nausea overcomes me.

She looks at me almost sadly, like she expected better from me, as she stands up and heads for the door. "And I'm sorry it had to be this way, Beatrice. But we can't allow that kind of behaviour."

She leaves me to contemplate on my actions, as I wearily shut my eyes. How can my mother's approach make me feel so guilty?

After a few hours - and two trips to the bathroom to empty my stomach - I make my way downstairs, the pain in my head less severe. Caleb sits on a couch in the sitting room. His half-open eyes stare blankly at the television screen, zombie-like, as he clutches his head with one hand.

I seat myself next to him. On closer scrutiny, he looks more than hungover: he looks beyond wretched.

I don't greet him before speaking.

"Did you hear about what we have to do after Christmas Day?"

He nods slowly, and pulls a face. Over the months, I've learned that Caleb isn't all that selfless, he just knows what to do to appear that way to others, particularly our parents. I've grown up believing that Caleb was a role model I should follow, but now, I realise that he is human, too. He is not perfect. He can ignore his sister, something I've forgiven, but not quite forgotten. He can get drunk, resent doing chores, and be punished, just like me. It doesn't make me a better person than Caleb, but it does change my view of him - I now see him as an equal. Our relationship might have been different if I'd seen that earlier.

After a very long pause, Caleb speaks again.

"I mightn't be allowed to see Mel anymore," he says.

"What?"

He shrugs, but there is pain in his expression. "That's what Mom said. They think she might be a bad influence on me, even though I chose to drink because I wanted to. Mel didn't even offer me any vodka; she said it was all up to me and she wouldn't force me into anything as long as I didn't interfere with her decisions."

I lower my voice, hearing Mom's footsteps in the kitchen. "Did you explain that to Mom?"

"Of course I did. Didn't do much good."

I frown.

"Do you love Mel, Caleb?"

He thinks about it. "I don't think I love her, but I do like her a lot. I think we could work on love with time, though. Everyone thinks we'll break up because she's popular and needs drama in her life, but with the way we're going that shouldn't happen in the near future."

I nod.

"Anyway," he says, biting the inside of his cheek anxiously, "how do you think we should deal with Dad?"

"Don't do anything to make him angrier and hope for the best." I dread to think of how furious he'll be when he gets home. Snow began to fall an hour ago (I felt too deflated to care), so with some luck the roads will be blocked so Dad can't get home until late.

I feel some shame in my thoughts. I shouldn't wish bad luck on anybody, let alone my father. Besides, while our potential argument would be put off for at least half an hour, the delay would only serve to put him in a worse mood.

I sigh. I'd better start rehearsing an apology, though there is no real way to excuse my actions - unless I tell them that a friend threatened to publicly announce who I like if I didn't take a shot. Even so, I doubt they would accept that. And I am nowhere near ready to tell them about Tobias.

I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but this fanfic is now over a year old! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this chapter.