“How? You don’t even have a pho—” Vero held up a cell phone. “Where did you get that?”
“Slipped it off the drink table while some guy was tapping thekeg. Don’t look at me like that. I only need it for a few minutes. I’ll give it back when I’m done.” She opened his messaging app and entered my number. A second later, my phone buzzed with a notification from someone named Mitch. “That’s me,” Vero said.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I walked out of the shadows toward the house, squinting against the bright light over the drink table as I reached for a plastic cup and poured a splash of punch into it. I grimaced at the smell. It was definitely spiked. I searched under the table for a cooler of sodas or bottled waters, but all I found was a cardboard box of more of Jackson’s flyers, advertising another party.
Resigned, I carried my cup of grain-alcohol punch toward the house. No one looked more out of place at a college party than a sober person with empty hands. Or the thirtysomething mother of two who couldn’t remember the last time she’d attempted a keg stand.
I pretended to sip as I approached the door at the back of the house. A trio of tipsy girls stumbled out of it, their drinks splashing over their hands when they all tried to squeeze through the opening at the same time. These parties rarely ended well, and I didn’t imagine much had changed since the last one I’d attended nearly a decade ago.
I stepped around them into the house, the smell of sweat thick in the hot, close air. My ears rang with the assault of voices and laughter, everyone practically shouting to be heard over music that was loud enough to vibrate the walls. I cradled my cup to my chest, shielding it from shoulders and elbows as I wove between animated conversations and the occasional swaying drunk being bounced like a pinball through the crowd.
I extended my other arm out in front of me, using it like a phalanx to part the crowd as I navigated toward the bathroom. A line had formed in the hallway in front of it. By the time the door opened for my turn, my bladder was threatening to burst. I hurriedinside and locked the door, taking a moment to relieve myself before reaching between the slats in the blind to unlock the window for Vero. It slid open with a screech. She shoved aside the blinds and tumbled through it.
“Took you long enough,” she said, closing the window and dusting herself off.
A loud knock rattled the door.
“Go find Mia,” Vero said, climbing into the bathtub.
“You can’t hide in there! What if someone sees you?”
“I’ll cover my face with a towel and pretend I’m drunk and sleeping it off.” There was another loud knock. Someone shouted at me to hurry up. “Just get out there and find Mia. Do you remember what she looks like?”
I nodded, remembering the statuesque young woman in the pantsuit I’d seen coming out of the sorority house.
“If she’s here, she’ll be in a group,” Vero said. “It won’t be easy to get her alone.”
“Stay out of sight. I’ll text you when I find her.” I tossed Vero a towel and drew the shower curtain shut, making sure it concealed her completely before opening the door and returning to the party. I maneuvered through the chaotic rooms, but they were too crowded to get a good look at anyone.
I spotted a set of stairs ahead of me. Grabbing hold of the banister, I pulled myself out of the mosh pit of people until I was high enough to get a better view of the room. Even in the full house, Mia was surprisingly easy to spot. She and her friends had commandeered a sofa in the corner and, just like Vero suggested she would, Mia sat squarely in the middle of them. Mia was not going to be easy to approach, much less single out. Thankfully, Ava didn’t appear to be there. The only thing I had going for me was that no one in this room knew me; nothing makes people more curiousat a party than the sudden arrival of a shiny new face that clearly doesn’t belong.
I made my way briskly toward Mia’s corner. The girls’ chatter paused as I stood close enough to insert myself into their conversation. They cast awkward glances at one another, then at me, as if they were trying to place me.
“I’m looking for Ava,” I said brightly. “Have you seen her?” I was too old to pass for one of them, but maybe I could make it seem like I had a legitimate reason to be there. Mia’s friends seemed to relax.
“She couldn’t make it,” one of them said. “She had an exam to study for.”
I tried to make myself look disappointed by that. “What about Zoey?” I asked, hoping she had stayed in the car with Cam.
“Zoey? She never comes to these things. You can hang with us if you want though.” One of the girls slid over to make room for me on the sofa.
“Thanks!” I said, squeezing in next to her.
“How do you know Ava and Zoey?” Mia swirled the contents of her half-empty cup. Her eyes were clear and alert, and her makeup was still fresh, not so much as a hair out of place or a smudge in her eyeliner, suggesting she hadn’t been here very long.
“We had a class together,” I said dismissively, hoping they wouldn’t bother to ask me which one.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look kind of old to be an undergrad,” one of the girls said. Her eyelids looked heavy, and her words came out slurred.
“I’m not,” I said, trying not to think too hard about which of my features had given away my age. I wasn’t foolish enough to assume I could pass for a pledge, but I still got carded when I bought wine at the grocery store, and I had let myself believe (maybe a few yearstoo long) that a good bottle of moisturizer had been enough to pull it off. “I’m a grad assistant,” I said, thinking on my feet.
They nodded as if this all made sense. Or maybe they were just too tipsy to care.
“Are you a grad student?” I asked Mia.
She shook her head. “I got my BS last year. I’m a teacher—AP English at Washington Academy,” she said. If Mia had landed a teaching job right out of college, I didn’t imagine her gambling exploits had made it onto her CV. Which probably meant she hadn’t suffered much of a punishment beyond being stripped of her leadership post and performing community service with the rest of her chapter.
“Wow, that’s lucky. It’s a tough job market out there,” I said, trying to make conversation.
