All Lined Up

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“This is a bad idea, Stella.”

Stella straightens her shirt. And by straighten, I mean she pulls it down to reveal what little cleavage she has (which is about twice as much as me).

“We’re in college now,” she says. “Bad ideas are the goal.”

“Maybe it’s your goal. You don’t have a parent on the faculty. If this gets back to him—”

It’s Friday night, our first on campus, and she stops just before the walkway of a frat house that hums with pent-up music. More than a head shorter than me, Stella reaches up and forces me to look at her. “Okay, sister. Let’s nip this in the bud right now. No one is telling anyone anything. There are like ten thousand people on this campus. You, my dear, are finally a small fish in a motherfucking ocean. Loosen up and enjoy it. This isn’t high school anymore.”

Could it really be that simple?

Loosening up has always been easy for Stella. Her mom is a bigger party animal than she is. She’ll probably get a high five if we get caught. Me . . . well, I’m a little scared to think of how my dad would react. What little freedom I have would disappear faster than the hot water in my dorm on days that end in a y.

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