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     Between the nightmare-induced nausea and the tumultuous state of her screaming mind, Jane felt as though she had sprayed military grade pepper spray directly into her throat. She put her head between her legs and breathed deeply, letting the plastic shot glass fall from her fingers and roll down the sticky floor. 

     Someone cheered. Holding a drink high. 

Upon seeing how she was folded like a lawn chair and swallowing her own saliva, the figure dropped to her haunches, fell forward, giggled, put her hand on Jane’s back, and slurred “Y’okay?” 

     Jane blinked, trying to refocus her attention on the speaker. That top, it was pink and sparkly and hanging on by two strings that dug into skin and would leave marks by the night's end. Who was wearing that top? Her roommate was. That’s right, now she could make Ella out. 

Shit, Phi Sci really did know how to make good drinks. 

     “Yeah I- I’m good, I’m good.” She tried to stand but quickly decided against it. The room spun. 

      Ella laughed. Her voice wasn’t where it should be. “You don’t look it.” She took a seat next to her, handing her a bottle of water which Jane drank gratefully. When did her mouth get so dry? 

     “How much have you had to drink?” 

      “Um. Not that much? Uh..” the water made her tongue feel sticky. “Just those shots we took at the pre-game, the Jungle Juice in here,” she moved to hold up the Styrofoam cup, only to find it wasn’t there. Where had she set that down? If she had put it down somewhere she probably shouldn’t drink from it. Someone could have roofied it by now. If she did get roofied what should she do after that? Go to the hospital? The police? Or do you just sleep it off and hope you're not pregnant? Damn that was a dark thought. Just like the blood on her hands and the stars in the sky- or was it a ceiling?  How much more did she need to drink to chase it all away? 

“Jane?” Ella asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

How long was she not talking for?                                                   “Uh,” Jane continued. “Um.. The Jungle Juice and then I went over in the corner over there and I took another shot and then… oh… oh.” 

Ella laughed again. Was she imagining it or was she making fun of her? She knew Ella was too pretty to actually be a nice person. God Ella was so pretty. Everyone loved Ella. 

      “You didn't, did you?” 

      “I don’t know” Jane sighed, resting her forehead on her knees even though she definitely did know. It came back to her now. Every time she drank she wanted to smoke and Max and his annoying pretentious frat friends had been passing around a blunt and she, however many shots deep she was, decided that was an excellent idea. And then she had walked over to the couch, thought “that didn’t hit at all” and then stared at the ceiling for God knows how long letting her mind run wild. Anywhere but that blue dream. And now she was at this lame house party crossed to all hell. And remembering that she was crossed reminded her that she should feel sick. 

      “I need air,” she said, standing somehow, taking steps to the porch of this dirty boy-owned frat house. Did they own a broom? 

      “You really shouldn’t go alone!” Ella called and was about to join Jane when Max sat next to her, offering the same fated blunt. Jane vaguely remembered her pledging that she would go home with Max tonight or she would consider the night a failure. Well then, Ella was cooler than Jane. No doubt she could handle the blunt better. 

      The walk to the front porch took forever. She hoped no one could tell she was high. Was she smiling too much? Oh my God everyone was staring at her. Everyone knew. Everyone knew what she dreamt about. Everyone knew she was paranoid and crazy. Everyone thought she was insane. Wheels screeched. Children laughed. 

      The air hit her harder than she expected. She shivered as she leaned against the wooden railing. There was a rusty nail near her right hand. Did she have her tetanus shot? She must, right? 

      The world lurched as she vomited over the side of the railing, nourishing a near dead bush. She hated throwing up. She was never drinking, smoking, going to a party, or talking to anyone ever again. 

      “Want a cigarette?” 

      “Sure.” 

       She raised it to her lips, letting the stranger light it for her. He was cute now but he would probably be balding in twenty years or so. Didn’t matter– Jane doubted she would still know him in twenty years. 

      “You okay?” He asked, leaning against the side of the house. 

Her eyes watered as she did her best not to cough. She could count on one hand how many times she had smoked.

      “Yeah, I’ve just had too much to drink,” and while she was loathe to admit it, throwing up had already started to make her feel better. “Why aren’t you at the party?” 

      “Why aren’t you?” He took his cigarette back from her. 

      “I just threw up,” She stated, dead-eyed. 

       The stranger laughed mid drag. She found it difficult to make eye-contact with him. Or focus on really anything.  “Fair. I want to go to bed, but my roommate is trying to bag a girl.”  

      “Your Max’s roommate?” 

       He coughed on the tarry smoke. “How’d you know?” 

      “I think your roommate is trying to get with my roommate.” 

      “Ah, so your Ella’s roommate.”

      “Jane,” she held out her hand. 

      He shook it. “Andrew.” 

      They stood there for a second, the conversation teetering dangerously into “so what’s your major?” territory. 

     “So what’s your major?” She asked. She wanted to kill herself. 

     “Criminal Justice, you?”

     “General studies.” 

     “Specific and focused.”

     “Yeah, yeah keep your jokes to yourself, future narc.” 

     He laughed again. Well- one of those exhale laughs that’s not really a laugh but acknowledges the joke was funny. 

     Jane tried to lean her head against a pillar, missed, jerked her neck.       This party was quickly becoming not fun.

     “I’m gonna call a car,” she mumbled, fumbling with her phone. A missed call from Dad- why was he calling so late? She’ll call him back tomorrow. 7%. That should be enough to get home? She shot Ella a text. 

Calling uyber. Do you want to come or stay at party?? Either if fine dw about it.

     Almost immediately she got a response. 

     You ok to go home alone? I want to stay here- u sure ur fine?

She should start charging people for asking if she was okay.  “I just need to know that you’re going to be okay,” Anne’s voice. Said not even five hours ago. Ugh Anne would be so pissed if she knew how shit faced she’d gotten. 

     I’m fine, i’ll text u when i get home. :) 

     “I can drive you home.” Andrew offered.

     That’s a great way to get murdered. But as she looked through the app, no drivers seemed to be out and the charge was ridiculous. That’s what she got for going to college in bum-fuck nowhere and staying out past 2am. 

     “Are you gonna murder me?” 

     “No,” he smiled when he said it, taking a step closer. “Should I take you to my apartment or yours?” 

     Jane’s breath hitched, heat rising to her cheeks. He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, looking her up and down as he took a drag. For a brief second she thought she saw a half-moon etched into the back of his hand. Just like…. 

     She took the cigarette from him, closed her eyes as she inhaled. When she opened them the half-moon had disappeared.

Well, boys could be excellent distractions.  

     “Yours, so long as you respect I have an 8am tomorrow.” 

      He laughed wryly, taking the cigarette back from her and stamping it out. “We’ll see if you actually make it to that class.”