Catherine’s brother was on the other side of the wall waiting for us and we squeezed into his car. Nicholas with his broad shoulders sat in the front and the rest of us in the back. Timothy invited me to sit on his lap—I nearly screamed with excitement at the thought—and I could feel his penis against my leg whenever one of us shifted with a bump in the road.

When I looked over at Ruthie, sitting on Andrew’s lap, she was staring out the window, her forehead resting on the glass. She was smiling, taking in the promise of the night. With her right hand, she lowered the window. The wind kicked in once we hit the two-lane highway and she closed her eyes, still smiling, dreaming. Her face glowed in the light of the moon.

Catherine’s brother parked on the grassy edge of the road, at the bottom of what looked like a full mountain, claiming he didn’t have the right tires to trek all the way up and back down if it was supposed to snow, like the forecast suggested. “Plus, his parents don’t want all our cars in their driveway,” he added.

“His parents are going to be there?” Catherine asked.

“Of course not. But they still have rules, I guess. Whatever. I don’t even know them.”

Ruthie turned around to face the steep trail through the forest to the house, planks of wood firmly stationed into the cold ground to create steps, their shape uneven and difficult to maneuver, not unlike the Rape Steps on campus.

This was when the first of many uneasy feelings started creeping into my chest, making me wish I’d taken a shot or two in the woods before we left. Something that would help push them away. The anxiety of the unknown sat on my rib cage, making it even more difficult to breathe than it already was as I climbed.

Ruthie sidled up to me on the trail and before I knew it, her camera flashed in our face.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Catherine’s brother hissed.

Ruthie giggled like she was already drunk. “Oh, calm down!” she said, continuing up the hill.

I didn’t like that I didn’t know where we were. I didn’t like that our ride home was gone and our access to cell phone service was spotty at best. I didn’t like that I didn’t have an address or a town or even the name of the owners. It was starting to feel too secluded.

Halfway up the mountain’s trail, a light sparked through the trees in the distance, on and off quickly like Morse code as we moved closer.

“There it is,” Ruthie whispered, like she’d just found the Holy Land. “There’s the party.”