Chapter 11

George and I decided to head out to Jim's party that night. Jim was a friend of ours who had graduated about three years ago, but never left the area. He owned a good-sized house about a mile off campus, and used it to throw parties for his friends several times a year. His Carnival parties were famous; the guest list changed every year, because Jim only had one rule for it: If you've been invited, then he considers you cool enough to come. If you think somebody else is cool enough to come, then you can invite them. You can tell that after a few repetitions of this, Jim probably didn't even know half the people at his parties.

Jim's other claim to fame was that he turned a blind eye to just about anything that went on at his house. He had an enclosed porch, which he kept well-stocked with alcohol. So long as you knew your own limits, Jim didn't really care how old you were. And even if you did step outside your limits, there was always a spare bedroom you could borrow for the evening, or at the very least a couch you could crash on. Those beds and couches were often borrowed during the course of the evening as well...

George and I went with the full intention of staying the night. George and Jim were rather good friends, and George usually helped him set up the place beforehand and tear it down the next day. We took the bus up from campus and arrived at Jim's place around dinner time. I begged off helping out because of my ankle -- it felt all right to stand on, but I still wasn't up for a lot of walking. So they put me in charge of ordering dinner for the three of us, and went about the business of cleaning up and hanging decorations.

Several hours later, the party was in full swing. I had found a comfortable chair on the ground floor, and had settled in for the evening. George, the dear, tried to stay by my side as much as possible, fetching me drinks when I needed them and introducing me to more people than I could count. But he was also sort of an assistant host for the evening, and occasionally he would be dragged away for one reason or another.

At one point, someone yelled to him that the cheese-and-crackers tray had become emptied, and he trotted off to the kitchen to refill it. I drained the Fuzzy Navel I had been nursing -- peach schnapps was a bit of a weakness of mine -- and set down the plastic cup. I leaned back and closed my eyes and let the alcohol wash over me. I wasn't really drunk yet, but I was well on my way. I heard someone laugh from across the room, and I opened one eye slowly. Heather was leaning back against a wall, giggling and trying not to spill her beer, while Mark was kissing and nibbling at her neck. I was starting to feel a little warm... though I wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol, or from watching Heather and Mark make out on the other side of the room. I felt a flush run across my chest, and the heat turned into a dull throb which came from between my legs. I thought I saw Mark's hand slip under her skirt, but just then someone heaved themselves onto the beanbag next to my chair and handed me a bottle of hard cider, my other weakness.

I shook myself out of my little voyeur act and looked to the side. I took a swig of the cider and was a little suprised to see a rather drunk Barbara sitting there.

"Hi April. Sorry about the ankle," she said to me.

I smiled back at her. "Yeah, me too. It still kinda hurts, if I walk a lot."

"So they stuck you in a chair? That was nice of them."

"Yeah, but George has been a real sweetie about keeping me company."

"I noticed. I've been trying to get you alone for hours. I had to eat all the cheese on the plate just to distract him."

She was joking, but "nervous" was written all over her forehead.

"Something on your mind?"

"Um, yeah. Look, April, you know I'm not exactly the smoothest person when it comes to guys... but I had a question I wanted to ask you."

"Sure, Barb, anything."

"Well... I've got a big crush on this guy. But the problem is, he's been dating somebody else for a while... one of my friends. I really like her a lot, so I don't want to do or say anything that would upset her. Or him."

"So you don't want to just come out and tell either of them."

"Yeah. That's the problem. But I also can't sit on this any more, you know? And I have a feeling that it's all going to come to a head pretty soon. I just don't know what to do about it."