In the car driving back to campus, Sean asks, “Truce?”
And I tell him, “No way.”
SEAN At the party I couldn’t find the waitress I had picked up earlier at Dunkin’ Donuts and who I had invited to the party, but I went crazy anyway, getting drunk and celebrating the end of term by f**king Judy again in her room—just grabbed her arm and we went—and then I made out with the hippie girl on the way back to Windham. Back at the party for a beer, I started feeling really good and still horny, so I made it with Susan and finally around two went home with that Swedish girl. After that I came back to find the party still going and so I sat around with everybody who was waiting for someone to bring more beer, most of the Freshmen pissed off because they wanted Lite beer. I was really drunk and I knew the beer wasn’t going to arrive for a long time and The Pub had closed hours ago and I should have gone home, gone somewhere, maybe back to Susan’s room, or maybe to visit Lauren, but I didn’t want to. I was already worlds away from that shit. And suddenly looking around the living room of Windham, Roxy Music blasting, a fire roaring, a half-decorated Christmas tree covered with bras and panties tilted to one side in the corner, I hated these people, yet I wanted to stay here with them. Even with the guy who was a shitty guitarist talking to the loudmouth alcoholic; even with the dyke from Welling; even with the waitress from Dunkin’ Donuts who had showed up and was hanging on to Tim’s arm; even Getch, who was loaded, sitting in the corner, crying, fondling a pony-keg. These were people I would never have spoken to out of this room, but here, at the party, I loathed them more than I thought possible. The music was loud and it was snowing lightly outside, dark in the room except for the fireplace and the lights on the Christmas tree in the corner flickering off and on. This was the moment that counted. This was when it all came together. This was where I wanted to be. Even the ex who was going to f**k Tony. Even her. All that mattered was that we were here….
The feeling sort of clicked off when the beer didn’t come and the guys who had been trying to get it were arrested for drunk driving, Getch announced. But I was still in that room and we were still all together: two people I rejected, two people who had rejected me, one girl I had been rude to, but now it didn’t matter. Tim left with the waitress from Dunkin’ Donuts. I went back to the Swedish girl’s room and knocked. But she had locked her door and was probably asleep. I trudged through the snow back to my house and a cold, empty room. My window was open. I had forgotten to close it.
LAUREN
MITCHELL I could sense it wasn’t going to go well when I found out I had to drive with Sean Bateman to get a simple dime bag of pot. I didn’t really know Bateman that well but I could tell from the way he looked what type of guy he was: probably listened to a lot of George Winston, ate cheese and drank white wine, played the cello. I was pissed off that he had the nerve to come over to my room and tell me we had to go to that scummy idiot Rupert’s house, which I really wasn’t keen on to begin with, but it was almost end of term and I needed some grass to take with me on the drive back to Chicago. I argued with him for a little while, but Candice was sitting there on my bed trying to finish an overdue paper and she told me to go and I couldn’t resist, even though all term I’d been planning to break up with her. I took a Xanax and got in his car and drove off-campus to North Camden where Rupert and Roxanne lived. The roads were slick and he was driving too quickly and a couple of times we came close to spinning out, but we made it there without losing any limbs or causing a major pile-up.
The house was dark and I mentioned maybe no one was home. There was a party going on across the street. I told him I’d wait in the car.
He said, “No, it’s okay. Only Roxanne’s here.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “I don’t want to go in.”
“Just come in,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”
I followed him up the walk to the door and he knocked apprehensively. There was no answer. He knocked again, then tried the door. Someone abruptly yanked it open. And there was Guest, grinning like an idiot. He told us to come in, then laughed ghoulishly.
There were other townies in the darkened living room listening to Led Zeppelin. Someone had lit candles. I was getting suspicious.
Rupert was walking around the kitchen. “So what are you here for, boys?”
The townies giggled from the living room. There were four or five of them. Something glinted against the light of a candle in the darkness.
I yawned nervously, my eyes started watering.
