After slinking around the house and observing the line of people stretching out the door, I still can’t believe it. Tonight, everyone has to pay five dollars to get in the door, but even that isn’t a deterrent.

Almost the whole crowd is dressed up in Begonia shirts or pig masks or pig noses or all three.

There are so many kegs in the backyard, the gleaming silver is probably visible from space. There’s also a DJ lording over a dance floor in the grass where the chutes and ladders game once resided.

Annabel disappeared after the scavenger hunt and Fitz is here somewhere, socializing. Beast is managing the line out front, and lord only knows where Jude is.

Despite the fact I know no one, everyone is kind . . . and overly familiar. Which I still can’t get used to. Random strangers clap me on the back, offering congratulations or saying hi and asking me questions about my parents, but it’s too much.

The house is packed, barely any room to breathe. Before the party even really gets going, I manage an escape, hiding in the room with the door safely locked, shut in like the recluse I am. Thank God I won today.

I try to get some schoolwork done, but it isn’t easy with a backdrop of pounding bass. After an hour, I’m not focusing on anything but the noise, and I have to pee so bad my back teeth are floating. Can’t avoid the necessary any longer.

I make a quick escape, locking the door behind me and pulling the key over my head.

And of course, there’s a line to the bathroom at the front of the house and another at the one Fitz and I share.

After waiting for what feels like hours but is probably less than ten minutes, I emerge refreshed. However, my relief doesn’t last long.

There’s a couple in front of the bedroom door.

Not only in front of it, but barring all possible entry.

He’s got her back against the door. She’s moaning and throwing her head back.

Now he’s kissing her neck and . . . What do I do? Should I say something? Oh dear, her legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s . . . I’m burning with embarrassment, but no one else is paying much attention to the live-action porno against my door.

How can they be doing that in public, where anyone and everyone can see? Although, Abby did much the same while we resided in the dorms together. But I was at least sleeping. Or trying to. And it was just me, not a whole line of people waiting for a bathroom at a party.

Now what? I suppose I can wait them out. If my recollection of Abby’s various paramours is any kind of indicator, they’ll be finished in fifteen minutes or less.

I weave through the mess of people in the hall through the living room and finally out into the backyard, where I can breathe and the stench of deodorant, cologne, and beer isn’t quite so prevalent.