for most of these students. And going to a party without parental supervision, and no curfew—another big first—at least for me.
A part of me wishes the boy I made the promises to when we were younger could share this first, but I quickly push the thought away. It’s been seven years since I’ve seen him. And that’s for the best.
I gingerly touch the tattoo below my belly button, flinching at the pain. Reveling in it.
Definitely for the best, I think.
Millions of stars are overhead. Darkness covers the wild wilderness the University sits on. Gina and I are staying in Irvine Hall, the tallest dorm on campus. It’s across the street from the cafeteria. The smell of overcooked food swirls in the air, as does a feeling of exhilaration.
“We don’t have to go, you know. I’ve got—” I begin, but Gina interrupts.
“Don’t even try it, Maddelena Martin. We’re going to this party, and I demand you have fun."
“It’s Maddie,” I say, correcting her for probably the twentieth time. I’ve always hated my name. It’s too long and seems pretentions. Plus, at almost every piano recital, the person announcing me gets it wrong. Mad. Elle. Ayy. Na. It doesn’t seem difficult, but then I’ve lived with it for eighteen years. “Why do you care if I have fun?” I ask.
She looks like I slapped her but recovers quickly. It’s a fair enough question. Two days ago I didn’t know she existed. “Fine. I’ll call you Maddie as long as you do two couch shots at this party. Deal?” She punches my arm.
I rub the spot she hit, worried. I have no idea what couch shots are, but after a moment’s pause I agree. “I guess.” I try to smile. My lips aren’t sure how it works, so I give up.
Gina doesn’t seem to notice my almost smile as she gives me a quick once over. “And next time we go out, you have to let me do your hair and makeup. You look like you don’t give a damn what the boys think. Those jeans. Really? They’re like two sizes too big.”
I blush and am thankful she can’t see my embarrassment in the dark. Casually I glance at my clothes: slightly baggy jeans hanging off my bony hips, tan ballet flats, and a pink t-shirt. “What do you mean? This outfit is… awesome,” I say back, knowing it isn’t, but not caring.
I have a serious infatuation with shoes, not fashion. All I own are ballet flats, but shoes are how I study people, the world.
She huffs. “Did you even brush your hair?”
I’m not one for confrontation, but Gina is getting on my nerves. “Yes, I brushed my hair,” I say, discreetly running a hand through my hair. “Rude much?”
Her face falls. “Crap, I’m sorry. My therapist says I need to work on thinking about what I say before I say it.”
She sees a therapist? Good to know. Maybe we do have something in common. “No problem,” I say.
We walk in silence until we’re across the street from the frat house. People are all over the lawn, on the wide wrap-around porch, and hanging out the second and third story windows. Everyone appears to be having fun. A part of me longs to let go, to be carefree. To “live a little.” That’s what my aunt told me to do when she dropped me off.
We cross the street and Gina asks, “We good?”
“Of course.”
The party-smile returns to her face. “Cool! Let’s rock,” she shouts, raising a fisted hand in the air. Several kids at the frat house yell their agreement.
If outside is crazy, inside the frat house is wild, filled with young, sweaty bodies gyrating to music so loud it’s rattling the windows. Everyone has large plastic cups filled with a red liquid. Some people are smoking. Couples are making out. My cheeks feel hot and my eyes water.
This place is like nothing I’ve ever known. It’s harsh, sordid, and raucous. The noise, the brilliant colors—it all makes my head spin, and my heart racket against my chest.
It’s obvious how naïve I really am. I had no idea people did stuff like this. Living with my aunt and uncle was fine; they took care of me, gave me affection, but I was also homeschooled, kept in a pampered prison. Up until this moment my only social life was therapy sessions, piano recitals, and a yearly visit to the tattoo parlor.
The atmosphere around me is everything I never imagined. And I think I might