The party house is a two-story affair with vinyl siding and an enclosed front porch. It looks like a normal house, but the Greek letters over the front door scream fraternity party. Campbell doesn’t look like a frat boy, but he strides up to the house as though he belongs. He’s a chameleon like that, fitting wherever he needs to fit. Willa wishes she had that ability, but she’s not white enough to blend in comfortably at a frat party in Upstate New York.

The crowd inside is a mix of college students and high school kids, and no one seems to notice they don’t belong. A couple of guys make eye contact with Willa over the tops of their Solo cups, but it’s Campbell who gets the lion’s share of attention from the girls, who stare as he leads Willa and Taylor to the keg.

As Cam fills their red cups with beer, two girls approach him. They both have long shiny hair—one brunette, one blonde—and pretty smiles, and Willa wants to punch their adorable noses.

“Go. Have a good time.” The way he says it feels dismissive, like he’s trying to get rid of Willa. Like the whole you-want-me-as-much-as-I-want-you conversation never happened. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Willa and Taylor find a corner of the dining room, where they sip their beers and watch a beer pong match between two guys wearing Greek letters on their T-shirts. The living room couch is filled with guys playing—or watching—a video game. One couple is making out on a chair, while another couple is fighting just inside the front door. It’s just like every other party Willa has ever been to, but at home she knew everyone. Including the police officers who’d break up the party if there were noise complaints from the neighbors. Across the room, Campbell is talking to a different girl.

“You know what? I’m playing beer pong.” Willa pushes away from the wall, blocking the human bug zapper from of her line of sight.

“Do you even know how?” Taylor asks.

“No, but I didn’t sail across two Great Lakes to stand in the corner of the room, waiting for something to happen.” Willa walks up to the nearest frat boy. He towers over her by at least a foot, and his shaggy brown hair hangs in his eyes, but she’s not looking for a date; she’s looking for a beer pong partner. “I want to play.”

His eyes widen in surprise and he’s slightly flustered as he says, “Sure. Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m Josh.”

“Willa.” She takes the Ping-Pong ball from his hand and looks across the table at his opponent. “It’s doubles now. Find a partner.”

“Are you good at this?” Josh asks.

She shrugs. “I’ve never played before.”