I was doing my best to look like I belonged, which isn’t easy when you’re falling facedown on the floor. Which is what I did. I tripped on the air. When I sat up, the whole room was spinning and I forced myself to focus on Gramps. Gramps was seriously trashed himself and seemingly senile, and the skinhead girl I’d seen scurrying up the rain pipe was making out with him. That made no sense to me at all. His hair was white, as white as mine, and his bones were frail. Maybe he was handsome once, maybe he was a war hero—Victoria’s full of those veteran guys. Still, I couldn’t stop staring. The skinhead girl was only wearing fishnets so you could see her pink underwear. So much for asking her if she knew the whereabouts of Justine. With her hips, she pushed herself into Gramps. Clearly, she was preoccupied. I had a lot of problems, but at least I wasn’t necking with ninety-year-old men.

Two British guys cornered me when I tried to walk over to a sofa.

At least, I thought they were British because I was too drunk to catch on they were playing me for a fool. Wow, you’re from London, really? I said. What’s it like? I’ve always wanted to go there.

Bloody brilliant. Come upstairs with us lads. Come on up to the second floor.

What was the big deal with the second floor?

You look a little intimidated. Don’t be intimidated by the fact that you’re the youngest girl here.

Then they started talking about me like I’d stepped out of some skin magazine. I could ride you so hard; I could break you in two; I could lick your pink little clit; I could do what your daddy doesn’t want you to do. I guess they thought I’d be seduced by the British accents, but I wasn’t turned on.

I used to hate that girls had to be careful when they got drunk. That wasn’t fair. Guys could get as wasted as they wanted, but girls always had this warning voice. Fuck that—I willed the warning voice away. I just kept on drinking other people’s drinks. I’d worked out a good routine. Stand near a cup, and after a few minutes grab it and chug it down. I figured that if I got caught, I’d just open my eyes really wide and say I was so sorry in a little-girl voice.