Chapter 6
The three-story, brick-structured Phi Delta frat house vibrates with each pulse of the music coming from the building. Annica
and I stare up at the flashing lights from the windows as we walk up to the door.
“I can’t believe this is a frat house,” I say, eager to get in. “Why do the ones at Pembroke all look like the next gust of wind might blow them
over, but the ones here look like a government building?”
“How did we even get invited to this?” Annica asks. “I thought the twins hated you.”
I finish putting my lip gloss on and check my hair on my phone camera. “It was three years ago. I wouldn’t say they hate me, maybe just dislike. And besides, if anyone is still going to be pissed about what happened, it should be me.”
A guy in khaki shorts and a polo stands at the double white-painted doors with his arms crossed. “Who do you know here?” he
asks.
“Seriously?” Annica says, taking on her defensive stance. “What are you, like, sixteen?”
“What are you, like, thirty-five?” he says back.
“You little—”
Ty opens the door behind the boy, a red Solo cup already in hand, and smiles when she sees us. “Well, well, well, look who
made it all the way to Boston. These are my friends, Cam; they can come in.”
Annica sticks her tongue out at the freshman as we walk in. Definitely not something a thirty-five-year-old would do.
It was a two-hour drive east to get to Ivy Gate University, the rival school to Pembroke that Ty attends. Ty—short for Tyler—Thompson
was one of the first friends I made at Cedar Falls when we moved there ten years ago after my mom remarried. With her big
blue eyes and bubbly personality, she wins everyone over.
“Are you sure Ryan is okay with me being here?” I ask Ty.
She runs a manicured hand over her slicked-back long chestnut hair before she says, “Totally! Water under the bridge.”
But I’m not entirely sure it will be. I haven’t talked to Ryan and Colton Austi since freshman year, but things did not end
on friendly terms. I cross my arms to stop my hands from shaking when I think about Ryan’s eulogy in my journal. It’s not
like he didn’t deserve one, but we had both wronged each other.
Past the foyer of the giant frat house, the party is in full swing. The thumping bass of the music, now ten times louder than
it was outside, hits like a physical force. A kaleidoscope of lights flashes all around the room, making it look like an actual
nightclub.
We enter the living room, where four long beer-pong and flip-cup tables sit in the center.
A group of girls dances off to the side, under the lights, Ty’s best friend Austin Reems among them, holding a Bud Light Platinum in one hand and UV Blue in the other.
He meets us by the bar to make mixed drinks, his black-rimmed glasses askew and his smile wide as he brings me in for a hug.
Upon closer inspection I can tell he’s recently pierced his ears, and his shirt is one big collage of the lead singer of Panic! At The Disco.
“So I was just talking to Julie Hart, you know the one who works at the Dunkin’ Donuts on campus—” Austin starts with Ty,
stealing her attention long enough for me to make my drink of soda water and lime, no vodka. “And I told her maybe she needs
to stop spending so many hours at Dunkin’ and start dunkin’ her hours in boys. And that’s all I have to say about that.” Austin takes a swig of the UV Blue and Ty clicks her tongue.
“How are you judging her for being single when you’re also single!”
“Omg, like, you know I’m talking to someone. It’s getting serious.”
“Oh?” I ask. “Do tell us more.”
Ty leans over to peer into my cup and frowns at the small amount of liquid inside. “Oh, honey, no need to be sparing with
the alcohol—it’s free!” She grabs a bottle of vodka, her gold jewelry clinking against the glass, and goes to pour some into
my cup.
“No, that’s okay,” I say, stopping her. “I’m not trying to get too drunk.”
“What?! That’s not the Sloane I know!” She continues to pour, and this time I let her. Fine, just one strong drink to start.
There are people everywhere, and in the flashing lights you can hardly tell who is who. I start to think I may not even see
the twins tonight. Ty leads us over to one of the tables where a new flip cup game is starting and declares that we’re all
in. She starts to introduce us but I don’t pay attention to the names, because Ryan is also standing at the table.
He interrupts Ty and points at me. “What the hell is she doing here?”
My face goes slack and Annica’s mouth drops open.
“I invited her!” Ty says. Ryan only glares at me before walking away from the table.
I turn to her, exasperated. “I thought you said water under the bridge!”
“Maybe the bridge is still in a little need of repair?” she says sheepishly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “He didn’t say
you had to leave, though. Just enjoy the party!”
I shake her off and follow Ryan to the kitchen, chugging my drink on the way there for liquid courage. I tighten my ponytail
and nervously adjust my top.
“Hey,” I say when we’re both stopped by the alcohol.
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to follow,” Ryan says. “Or did you think I was Colton?” He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt
before he digs around a cooler of ice for a cold beer. His black hair is cut short now, and I wonder if Colton’s is too. They
both used to wear it longer, and it made them look the same. But I guess that was the point.
“You’re still spinning that story? That I was sleeping with your brother and not you?”
“Depends, do you still like to air out people’s business on Instagram?” He crosses his arms, standing his ground.
“Do you think you didn’t deserve it? You were cheating on your girlfriend with me, then called me— What was it again? An always
wasted bitch?”
He steps toward me, raising his voice. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have posted that I was a cheater all over the internet!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have cheated!”
“I didn’t cheat! You weren’t hooking up with me, remember? Oh wait, you probably don’t! Don’t think I haven’t heard about
you lately—you’re still not very reliable. Or sober. You’re just a sad little party girl with a shitty memory,” he adds.
My face burns hot with rage. “You know what, I was going to come over here to make amends, but fuck you, Ryan.” I turn to
walk away but face him again, because I just need him to know. “For the record, I really liked you back then. You hurt me
too.”
“And you hurt Olivia, so I guess we’re even.” He pushes past me into the crowd, and I can feel my blood thrumming in my cheeks.
Olivia, his girlfriend at the time, was a beautiful blonde on the Ivy Gate soccer team who I tracked down to tell her he was
cheating. Sure, it was immature of me to post the screenshots, and yes, I regret that, but I was hurt. He was my first relationship
after Jonah, and maybe I didn’t love Ryan, but I loved the idea of him. I just didn’t know the difference at the time.
I eye the bottle of vodka for a long moment before filling my cup halfway with it. Without any soda water or lime to cut the
taste, I top it off with ice. It goes down like fire and settles in my stomach with a burn. I let the words and the feelings
and the world spin by. Just for tonight.
Just for tonight.
There’s a loud banging noise coming from somewhere that makes me stir in my sleep.
I open my heavy eyelids and don’t recognize the room I’m in.
I blink a few times, letting the spinning ceiling settle in my vision.
I’m at the foot of a large bed. I groan and turn my head to see Annica, Ty, and Austin sprawled out on the bed with me, all in our clothes from last night.
The light coming through the navy curtains tells me it’s morning.
More banging comes from the other side of the door. “Open up this door—it’s the police,” a deep male voice says from the other
side.
All of our heads pop up from the bed and we look at each other with one silent question. What the fuck are the police doing
here? They usually come to break up a party while it’s still going on, not the morning after. Ty gets up to unlock the door
and two police officers are standing on the other side.
“Everyone downstairs, please.”
When we’re gathered at the bottom of the staircase, Ty is the one to speak up first. “What’s going on?”
“We need to ask you all a few questions about last night before you leave. Officer Smith and I will speak with you each individually.
Who wants to go first?”
None of us say anything, still unsure about what this is.
“We’ll go right down the line, then.” He points to Annica. “You first.” She hesitantly follows the female officer to another
part of the house for the supposed questioning, looking back at us with worried eyes.
“Can someone just tell us what is happening?” Ty tries again.
“There was a body found outside the building early this morning, identified as Ryan Austi. It seems he either fell or was
pushed off the third-floor balcony.”
When it’s my turn to be questioned, I’m shaking like a leaf. I vaguely remember walking back to my friends after pouring myself a vodka on the rocks. We played flip cup. We went up to the third-floor balcony that overlooks the backyard . . . but what were we doing there?
Detective Grange is a tall man, handsome, and looks to be around forty years old. His brown eyes somehow match his skin tone
perfectly. Focusing on his features is how I’m distracting myself from throwing up.
Detective Grange sits across from me and takes out a small notepad and pen. “So, Miss . . . ?”
“Sloane Sawyer.”
“Sloane Sawyer.” He pronounces every syllable as he writes it down. “Why don’t you walk me through last night? What time did
you get to the party?” His voice is deep, and slightly comforting. Like the people that narrate Animal Planet documentaries.
“Okay,” I start. “Um, we got here around like ten p.m. We had some drinks, played drinking games . . .” I trail off because
the rest is foggy.
“Did you see or speak to Ryan at all?”
“I said hi to him in the kitchen at one point.” The kind of hi that sounds more like “fuck you,” but he doesn’t need to know
that. Or does he?
“What did you do after you spoke to Ryan?”
“We played drinking games like I said, and at some point, we went up to the balcony—”
Grange looks up from his notepad. “What time was it when you walked out onto the balcony?”
“I—I honestly don’t remember, but maybe like midnight?”
“Was Ryan out there with you?”
“There were a lot of people out there, but I don’t specifically remember if any of them were him.”
He continues to write. “And then what did you do?”
I close my eyes, trying to remember. What did we do? What did we do? I purse my lips, shaking my head. “We might have gone
to bed after that.”
“At what time?”
I come up blank. “I’m sorry, I just can’t remember. I drank too much.” The last part comes out as barely a whisper.
Detective Grange sighs and closes the notepad. “Thank you for your time, Miss Sawyer. Before you go, if I could just get your
phone number and address in case we have any more questions throughout this investigation?”
“Okay, sure.” I write them down, my hands still unsteady. Ty and Annica stand by the door with Austin, waiting for me.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ty says.
“Okay, what the hell just happened?” Annica says when we get onto the sidewalk.
I look over at the house as we walk away. “I feel sick,” I say, taking deep, shaking breaths. “Did any of you see anything
last night? Did he jump? Was he pushed?” I try to imagine the feeling of falling through the sky only to land on the hard
ground. Did he die instantly? Or did he lie there in agony until his body gave up? I grimace at the thought.
Ty slowly shakes her head, tears welling up in her doe eyes. “He was so excited to graduate this year,” she whispers. “There’s
just no way he would do that. It had to have been an accident.”
“Did you talk to him again after you guys argued?” Annica asks me.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything after the balcony.”
“When were you on the balcony?” Austin asks.
I look at him, confused. “Weren’t we all?”
“No,” Ty says. We’re all quiet and I’m silently berating myself for getting that drunk. I try to think of every scenario of
why I’d be on the balcony without my friends. And did I see Ryan again or even Colton?
“This is bad,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.
“I’m sure it was just an accident,” Annica says, rubbing my arm, trying to comfort me.
“I mean, it’s not like any of us pushed him,” Austin says. “I mean, you didn’t push him, right?” I can tell he’s joking, but I come off a little defensive in my reply.
“No, why would you even suggest that? I would never do that.” I think of Ryan’s eulogy sitting in my journal at home. “I would
never do that.”