Again by Lisa Burstein Page A

with Alex and Steph and
tried to deny it, I needed it just as badly.
    As the party went on, two
beers became three, then four, then five. The little voice in my head
persuading me from one to the next; it was okay to keep going—there was no
other choice but more .
    That easily, rule number one
was forgotten like it was written on my brain in chalk being erased with each
sip.
    We went out front for a
cigarette and a breath of fresh air. The porch trembled below me, the stars
above me spun. Nothing but beer was coursing through my veins as I listened to
Alex and Steph rate the guys we’d met so far.
    “You like anyone, Kate?”
Steph asked after she and Alex had made it through five specimens.
    “All of the above,” I said,
unable to fight a fit of laughter.
    “Kappa loves salad
dressing!” Alex spit.
    I guess for the purposes of
the night right in front of me—reveling in the tunnel vision being drunk
offered—I did.
    We stumbled back inside and
I kept drinking. I reasoned that I had to otherwise I was going to crumble into
a pile of guilt and shame. It was the reason I always kept drinking once I
started. Why would that have changed just because I was pretending to be
younger? Why would I have changed just because I was trying to start
over and be a good girl?
    My cup bobbed as I worked on
solidifying the Jell-O taking the place of my bones. It was okay, I argued. I
could get buzzed. Drinking like this didn’t mean I couldn’t control myself,
that I would flunk out again. I’d already finished my reading and homework and
I didn’t have class until 10:00 a.m. on Monday. It was the weekend. I could
have a few beers. I could keep myself in check. I mean, I was the adult here.
    That was what I told myself,
but after beer number seven, I joined Alex and Steph and a few other girls who
were Alex and Steph with blond hair or with red hair, on the dance floor. We
jumped up and down, dancing wildly, hooting and screaming. When they threw
their tops off and into the crowd forming around us, I did too.
    The room spun, a flutter
filled my stomach as I danced in my bra and jeans. I was no longer even trying
to control myself. I was not being the adult, but I was, I reasoned, acting
like I was nineteen.
    I couldn’t remember exactly
what I’d done at the Franklin Law Group holiday party to make David fire and
dump me, but behavior like this would have more than taken care of it. Behavior
like this might have gotten me arrested or committed as a twenty-nine-year old
at a holiday work party. Here, though, people were clapping, laughing, and
joining in. I was fun.
    The way I was acting made
sense.
    Steph and Alex each took one
of my hands, forming a circle and chanting Alpha, Sigma, Kappa , again
and again as we jumped up and down. Maybe I belonged here, with them.
    Maybe my problem wasn’t
flunking out of college, but that I’d ever left.
    I watched them bouncing to
the music. In my drunk mind our bodies didn’t look so different. Soon the boys
around us also started taking off their shirts and in my drunk mind their
bodies looked pretty damn good too.
    The guy with the adorably
shaggy brown hair and ironic wife-beater moved closer to me, his eyes
undressing what was left of what I wore. I was about to cradle my arms around
his neck when there was a tap on my shoulder.
    Maybe someone who wanted to
cut in.

    Carter
    Kate turned to me and her
crazy drunk smile suddenly clamped down.
    “Carter?” she asked, a surge
of confusion settling over her. She covered herself with her arms. Apparently,
she was fine with a room of strangers seeing her in her bra, but not me. She
looked insanely awesome in her bra. It was translucent white lace, tracing the
skin underneath. I wished she’d move her arms so I could see her perfect tits
again, but I was glad she had finally covered up around everyone else.
    “Hey, Kate,” I replied,
unsure what to say. It was one thing to want to make sure she was okay. It was
another to be standing in