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Last night’s meeting with Professor Dick was still fanning the flames of anger in my chest. I want to hit something. Preferably the Dick himself. Punch him right in the face. Or the dick. Yes, punch Professor Dick in the dick. I do a little stepping and punching like Rocky and get a“you’re weird”glare from a group of girls. Screw them too.

I make my way to the kitchen in the back of the house and find the line for the keg. Some random dude offers me a beer. I decline. “Thanks. But I always get my beer straight from the keg.” It’s the safest way to get a drink. He shrugs and walks away, drinking from the cup he tried to give me.

I get in line for the keg and check my costume while I wait, making sure to align my dollar store cat ears, confirm the tail is still attached to the back of my black leggings and tug down at my black crop shirt. Everything is in place.

When it's my turn, the guy manning the keg looks me up and down with a lascivious smile on his face.

“Helloooo, pussycat,” he slurs, putting emphasis on pussy.

I ignore his attempts to get my attention and help myself to the beer.

“Ah, don't play hard to get. Come here, pussycat. I got some catnip for you.”

I make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder at him.

“Right here,” he says, grabbing his crotch before nearly falling over laughing at his own stupid joke.

I make my way back to the living room, looking for a familiar and friendly face. I see many familiar faces, but friendly, not so much.

My own fault for mistrusting everyone and keeping them at bay.

I miss Tommy.

Becca: Happy Halloween! You’re missing a great party.

Nothing. When I texted him earlier and asked if he wanted to come to this party with me, he said he couldn’t. He was busy. No other explanation.

Becca: What are you up to?

Usually Tommy texts me nonstop.

“Becca!” My name is barely audible over the loud music.Closerby The Chainsmokersplays in the background. I turn around looking for whoever is calling me and see River across the room. She’s sauntering my way, dressed like a sexy cheerleader and holding a red cup high above her head. People part for her, like Moses at the Red Sea. River draws both envious glares and lusty gazes, but she’s oblivious to all of it.

“Hey, beauty.” I tap her cup with mine once she’s next to me.

She rolls her eyes at me and pinches my arm.

“Ouch!” I complain, but she didn’t really hurt me. She hates when I call her that.

“That’s aversion therapy for you. Every time you say something like that, I’m going to pinch you. I’ll be your human rubber band.”

I rub the spot. “You’re alone?”

“Nope. Skye and her boyfriend are here. They’re hanging out back by the fire pit.”

“Wow, who managed that small miracle? Skye at a party? Was it you or her new guy?”

“It was a joint effort.” She takes a sip of her drink, glancing around. This is something I have noticed River doing a lot lately whenever we’re at a party. She’s checking out faces, like she’s looking for someone.

“Who are you looking for?”

“No one.” Her eyes are back on me. “Just looking. Some new faces today.”

“Yeah …”

“You look distracted.” River fixes a quizzical gaze on me. Tommy’s absence in getting to me. “There are always new faces in the beginning of the school year, transfers and freshmen.” I wave my hand around, stating the obvious, and some of my beer spills over.

River takes the cup from me and puts both our drinks on a window ledge. She’s going to rip me a new one about excessive drinking. I know it.