feet away.
The next band was either really amazing or I was really drunk. Probably both. They played a long set. Everyone in the room seemed to know who they were because they screamed out the musicians’ names between songs and knew all their lyrics. I guess the band went to Wittenberg.
They played a few slow songs, which was a great chance to sit down and lean against the wall. I sat wedged between my two guys, happy that Kim didn’t want to come with Horatio, and closed my eyes for a while. Soon, Hamlet leaned close and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”
Keeping my eyes closed, I replied, “It’s still early, Hamlet.”
I looked over at Horatio, who suddenly snored, which seemed outrageously funny. As our laughter died down, Hamlet pulled out the whiskey again and offered it, but I waved it away. With Horatio asleep, I suddenly felt free to climb onto Hamlet’s lap. He pulled me into a kiss, and there were more white flashes.
“Get out of here!” Hamlet yelled, waving at someone in the dark. He tried to get up, nearly knocking me off the table. Whoever it was vanished into the crowd while we struggled to keep our balance.
“Who was that?”
“I don’t know. The university promised my father that I wouldn’t be hassled here. Promises,” he spat.
The band started playing a faster song. We looked at each other and knew we were too tired to keep dancing. We patted Horatio awake and steered him back out through the crowd. He stopped in the bushes to puke and then fell to his knees, luckily not landing in the former contents of his stomach. “Why do I let you drag me into these things?” implored Horatio.
“You did this willingly, my friend,” replied Hamlet, hoisting Horatio back onto his feet.
As we rounded the corner, we nearly bumped into two guys, both of whom were wearing absurd beanies. “Rosencrantz! Guildenstern!” shouted Hamlet too loudly.
“Good party?” asked the tall one, eyeing Horatio.
“Decent music. Foul beer. What the hell are those?” Hamlet asked, gesturing sloppily to his own head.
“Pledge thing.”
Hamlet stumbled as he cackled, dragging us away. “Good luck with that,” he yelled over his shoulder.
I woke up the next morning in agony. My head pulsated, and my mouth was furry. As I rolled over to get out from under Hamlet, my stomach burned. I moaned and tried to shut out the day with my hands. Why Hamlet was unable to hang a simple curtain or shade was beyond me.
I dug into my overnight bag and grabbed a pair of jeans. That amount of movement was too much, so I put my head back on the pillow. I wanted to shower and get all the grime off from the night before, but I dreaded the comments I knew I would hear if any of the frat brothers were in the hall. They always had off-color remarks for any girl who spent the night.
I stood up and shoved on the jeans, deciding to take my chance with the hall and the guys’ bathroom. I grabbed Hamlet’s towel, which we had neglected to get laundered, and smelled it. A little mildew but clean enough. When I entered the harshly lit hallway, some guy was sitting on the stained carpet steps that led up to the showers. As he scooted aside to let me pass, he said, “Nice pictures,” not bothering to look up from his paper.
“Excuse me?” I scowled at him, wishing I’d brought some toothpaste with me, knowing there would be none I would want to touch upstairs.
“Nice pictures, I said. Front cover. Impressive.” He swiveled around and let me see the front page of the paper he was holding. His eyes danced with excitement. There above the fold were two startlingly clear pictures from the party the night before. One was of Hamlet, bottle in mouth, me dancing in a skirt I had not realized looked so indecently short, my hair flying every which way, and Horatio, arms in the air, head back, making him unidentifiable. The other picture was of me sitting astride Hamlet on the table in the corner, his tongue down my throat. The white flashes of light.
“Crap,” I whispered, my legs weak. I grabbed the sticky banister to steady myself.
“He’s the most famous guy around. Why are you doing anything you don’t want the whole world to see?” He smirked and handed the paper to me. I clutched it and sat. The guy bounded down the creaky steps and