In the time that Mrs. Weeks had moved in, she’d gradually added the needed woman’s touch. The furniture was nice, there was actual art on the walls, and the carburetor had been moved off the center island. So what was happening was a shame. There were bottles on every surface, bodies crammed into every space, and knickknacks were being broken or ruined at an alarming pace. I reached over to steady Nina’s drink before the white couch became the next victim.

Luisa was at the kitchen table, sitting on Kane’s lap as they played Quarters, the little feather in her headband bobbing and fists pumping as she celebrated landing a shot. Everyone seemed pretty smashed, or getting there, because Kane, wonder that he was, had only secured alcohol from one of his old teammates, and not a lick of food. There were some pizzas in the freezer that disappeared earlier—though I wasn’t sure anyone had actually cooked them, because I never saw the oven on—and a wilted, half-eaten salad container from Wendy’s that Mrs. Weeks had left over disappeared too. It was all very bizarre. These people were like locusts. I hadn’t seen Declan in an hour and hoped he hadn’t succumbed to the swarm.

I went upstairs to check, navigating bodies and garbage on the stairs. The door to his room was locked. I banged on it and called his name, but no one answered.

So I went outside and climbed the trellis. I’d gotten to be a pro at it. I peeked in his window. He was wearing headphones and lying on his bed, face up, a tented magazine across his middle. I waved and knocked until he noticed me. He ripped off his headphones, pushed open the window, and dove back onto his bed. “Hey, stranger.”

“Oh my God, Declan,” I said, climbing inside and flopping onto the bed beside him. The beat of the bass downstairs made the mattress vibrate pleasantly. I was already buzzed, but I’d left my beer downstairs, so it wouldn’t last long unless I went back down. “You have to see what’s going on down there. Everyone’s letting loose.”

He picked up his magazine. “Nah. Not my thing. Thus, the locked door.”

Being with Declan for the past year, I’d made partying not my thing too. But what was going on downstairs? It was a train wreck. I knew people would be talking about it in school, and I didn’t want to miss the gory details. “Yeah, but…don’t you want to dance?”

His mouth turned down in distaste. So, that’s a no.

“Darn it,” I said to him. “I should have gotten film for my new camera. I could’ve taken pictures of us, but I only have one left.”

“Where’s your phone?”

“Charging. The battery life is terrible. I think I need a new one.”

“Too bad.”