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before being almost trampled by a herd of freshmen who’d somehow snuck in and were now being chased out by football players from a neighboring district.
    “Where were you?” Trish asked as I finally appeared. “It wasn’t that hard.”
    “Apparently one of my hidden talents is getting lost in mazes. Go figure.”
    Trish nodded like that made sense, then pointed at a table stacked with the entire contents of the local liquor store. “Want a drink?”
    I stared at the pile of alcohol.
    I’d never been drunk before. I’d once had a half a glass of wine with my mom over dinner, but I’d never been to a party like this. I’d never been to anything close to this. The normal, I-have-life-goals-and-a-solid-future part of me was saying no. The I’m-all-alone-and-I-hate-the-world part of me said, out loud, “Why not?” I grabbed Trish’s arm as she started to walk toward the table. “Just don’t let me do anything stupid.”
    She grinned. “Hey, if you want to have a good time, I’m not gonna stop you.”
    There was a bowl of what someone said was Jungle Juice sitting in the middle of the table. It looked like fruit punch, which seemed safe, as I had no idea what any of the other bottles of alcohol were, and doubted I could drink anything straight. As soon as Trish and I had our red Solo cups, the music suddenly died and it went dark. A spotlight appeared on a pirate as he clung to the ledge of the second-floor railing. Seems the guys had also come up with a theme, as the majority of them were dressed in varying degrees of pirate garb. I’d seen quite a few Captain Morgans walking around with bottles of rum, looking very pleased with themselves.
    The pirate dude waited for the noise to die down and finally raised his arms, yelling into a mic, “ Juniors! ” like he was the announcer in a stadium arena. I guess he was, in a way, because the place erupted into an absolute frenzy. Whatever was about to happen, everyone was very excited about it.
    “Tonight,” the pirate continued, “you shall all be initiated !” There was another round of screams and my stomach felt slimy. “Tonight,” he continued, “you will prove yourself worthy to be called the Children of Warren County !’”
    More screams. What was this, some sort of Satanic ritual? I was thinking about how far it would be to get to the door. And then how far it would be to walk back to my aunt and uncle’s. And how I would explain my outfit. And my makeup. And why I wasn’t at Trish’s. Let’s face it, I’d probably get lost and eaten by a bear. But that might be better than suffering through whatever public humiliation was about to come my way.
    Trish glanced at me. “I see that look on your face. Come on, Mystic; just get into the spirit of things and this’ll be a lot more fun. It’s a long way back to Stony Creek.”
    I looked at her. She was right. It was a long way back to Stony Creek. I stared at my punch, and it stared back at me.
    “What’s in this?” I yelled at Trish over the din.
    “Vodka, Red Bull, some other stuff,” she yelled back. “That’s the beauty of Jungle Juice, you never really know!”
    It sounded awful, but I sipped, and couldn’t actually taste any alcohol. It was mostly sweet, but tangy sweet, like pineapple juice. I downed the rest of it in a series of long gulps. I’d come here to let loose, after all. Vodka was certainly going to make that dumb plan happen faster.
    The announcer-pirate waved for attention. “Juniors, the time has come. You have three phases of initiation. The test of the Holy Grail!” The guys cheered loudly. “The test of physical prowess!” More cheers. “And— truth or dare .”
    This time it took a full minute to quiet the crowd down again.
    “Form a line!” he said, then disappeared. On either side of the barn, horse stalls had been converted into drinking stations, and their doors were now flung open. In line, partygoers were handed a plastic, dollar-store “grail” and