When he comes back, he unzips his backpack and waves a silver bottle in the air.
“I stole the good tequila,” Alex says. “Let’s do shots, ladies!”
We’re pretty drunk, Margie. I think you need to take it easy now. We’re not used to this.
Whatever, Mom.
I don’t know what time it is. The party is winding down. Soon it will be time to leave. Thank god. Thank god. My head hurts. Alex is whispering things into Margie’s ear. Margie is laughing this insanely high-pitched laugh. She sounds like a hyena after huffing from a helium balloon. I’ve never, ever heard her laugh like that.
There are only six or seven of us left here. The college bros are long gone. Tracey reamed them out when she caught three of them smoking w**d in one of the bedrooms.
“No smoking inside, dumbasses!” Tracey shrieked.
