“You’re so old.”
“You and you,” the bouncer calls to us.
“Yay!” my sister squeals, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the dark club.
Green bracelets are attached to our wrists.
“This really does feel like a club,” I say.
Lauren ignores me, dancing along to the music.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, especially because some sort of purple-and-green strobe light is blinking in time with the beat of the hip-hop music.
I stumble as Lauren and I make our way to the bar. The bartender is flirting with a group of what look like college-age girls.
“One shot!” I yell at Lauren over the music.
“What?” she screams back.
“One,” I shout, holding up a finger, “shot!”
The bartender is still flirting with the girls. The bass is so loud, it feels like I’m about to have a nosebleed.
“Excuse me!” I call out over the music, trying to signal to the bartender. “Excuse me?”
“We’ll show you our tits if you give us a drink!” Lauren screams at the bartender.
That gets his attention.
“Older women.” He whistles appreciatively.
“I’m not old,” Lauren says. “She’s old.”
I hush my sister. “Two shots, please.”
“ID.” The bartender whistles again as he inspects my card. “You’re thirty-four? You don’t look thirty-four.” His eyes settle on my chest. “Do you have kids?”
“She doesn’t even have a boyfriend,” my sister yells over the music as he slides our IDs across the bar top.
“You look good for your age.”
“One, thank you. Two, it goes faster than you think. You’re going to be this age soon, and you’ll be just as shocked and horrified as I am.”
“Sure, lady.” He rolls his eyes. “What’ll you have?”
“Surprise us.” My sister winks.
The bartender pulls out a bottle of toxic-looking green liquid and slides two full shot glasses over to us.
“This isn’t roofied, is it?” I inspect the glass.
“No way—he just started his shift.” Lauren hands me one of the shot glasses. “To sisters. But not Amy.”
I toss the shot back, and flames spill down my throat.
“I’m dying,” I gasp out.
“That was fun!” Lauren claps her hands. “Another one!”
