Standing at the bus station, Son stared into the dark woods. Blue persuaded her to attend the party, but she wasn’t expecting it to be held deep inside the forest. The host was supposed to be some guy from the football team and the party was supposed to be open to everybody. Yet there wasn’t a soul to be found here. No streams of students heading towards the party location, no attendees lingering on the outer edge of the congregation chattering with drinks in their hands, no dance music or colored lighting that violated one’s sensory organs with arousing ecstasy, just the cold dark woods, staring back at her with all its unhinged wilderness. This was not where the party was held. 

“Hey, Son! The address was wrong, apparently,” Blue sounded apologetic enough on the other side of the phone, but evidently not apologetic enough to actually offer an apology, “you aren’t far off, but you gotta take another three blocks down South. There is this abandoned condo there, that’s where the party is held.” 

“Walking on the street at night sounds like a good way to get myself robbed.” 

“Nah. You will be fine. I will be waiting for you at the door.” 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ 

 “That was when you first met Mark Corrigan? You are positive of it?” 

“I was transferred to this school only two weeks prior to that party. It’s either that party or some other occasion during those two weeks that I’m apparently not aware of. I am fairly confident that I would not have any other chance of meeting a student who had lived here all his life before I arrived in this country, sir.” 

“Keep the cheek to yourself, young lady. I am your principal, not your concierge.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ 

 “Hey! Son! Here, here… You show up! Physically! I’m glad you made it.” 

“Despite your direction,” Son wondered if Blue really was just innocently air-headed, or a self-serving, inconsiderate bastard that, for her own sake, should be rid of as early into her new high-school life as possible; the last thing she wanted was hanging onto a bad friend. “It was a block South and two blocks West.” 

“Ah, silly me. You didn’t get robbed! That’s great, what a bummer would that be if you were mobbed the first time attending a party? You won’t ever go to another party again!” 

The condo was six floors tall, completely abandoned with not even a glass window remaining. Throbbing with garish dance hall music, light beams shining through disco balls, and socialites surrounded by sycophants and pursuers. When a party was opened to everyone, it quickly devolved into a competition between the peafowls and their plumes. Many loitered outside the condo by the street, most were smokers; the smell of cigarettes and weed mixed with perfume was pungent enough to suffocate, drawing the asthma out of her that she didn’t know she had.

“I can barely breathe around here,” Son commented, “what do people do at parties again?” 

“What do you mean ‘what do people do at parties?’ They party! Talk to old friends, mingle with new people, exchange rumors and gossip…” 

“And indulge in heavy consumption of substances of all kinds, no doubt…” As they entered the venue, the first thing Son noticed were the three two-gallon drink dispensers sitting on the foldable table, “not that I will rebuff any if offered, not too vigorously anyway… What are these?” She asked some guy standing beside the dispensers. 

“Punches I made!” And he was damn proud of them, “this purple one here I called THE VIOLET JUNGLE! It’s dragon fruit with tequila, vodka, orange juice, lime, and champagne! This orange one here I called LORAX’S ANUS! It’s blood oranges with rum, hell ton of liquor, lime juice, simple, Sunny D, and candy worms…” 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ 

“Are there alcohol or drugs present at the party?“

”As far as I'm concerned, it was a dry party,” Son answered, at which the man in the corner audibly scoffed, “like I said, as far as I’m concerned. If they concealed their vodka with bottled water, I would have no way to know.”

”That condo, the party was held in. Have you heard what happened to it?” 

“I heard many parties were held there. Other than that, I heard nothing.” 

“Come on, young lady. Don’t take us as fools. You meant to tell me you didn’t overhear a single conversation in the hallway about the condo’s fire for the past week. Not one gossip from your friends?“

“I didn’t attend school for the past week. There wouldn’t be much gossip in my own apartment room.”

“And why didn’t you attend school, precisely?“ 

“Hives,” she unbuttoned her collar and revealed her neck and collarbones stained with pink calamine lotion.  

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ 

Blue almost immediately disappeared into the crowd. Coked-up dancers had virtually occupied every floor space there was, making it almost impossible to venture deeper into the building without jostling someone and knocking off a few drinks. Son awkwardly loitered between the front door and the dance floor, strolling past the drink station over and over again without taking anything, not even the butter cookies that piled high in the red disposable plastic basket, occasionally bumping into brutes eager to gyrate their torsos on the dance floor. She wished she could share their enthusiasm, but the crowded nature of the room made every inch of her body crawl with discomfort, and the music on-air that sounded like EDM played backward was grating to the ears. As minutes went past, she started to wonder if coming here was a mistake and if she would be better off staying home or finding a good place to dine by herself. 

“Hey lass,” someone at the drink station called her, “you’ve been strolling around doing nothing for the past ten minutes! Why don’t you get a drink or something, get down and relax.” 

This was not a friendly gesture; they suspected her to be a disciplinary clerk from the student government who patrols recreation events to monitor and evidently prosecute people for substance possession. Both drugs and alcohol were heavily regulated within the schooling district, and the parental board’s constant protest about the school handing too much power to the student government had only resulted in stricter and stricter regulations. Son had no intention of being labeled a snitch, but explaining herself would help little once suspicion was already roused. The best thing to do was to just leave.

Getting kicked for doing nothing, that must be a first. 

“John, John, John…” Someone interceded, thank God, but the voice was unfamiliar with its basal pitch and nonchalant tone like everything was under control; this was a stranger. “John, pretty John, this ‘lass’ here is a newcomer. Less aggression, more hospitality, I appointed you here to watch over the drink station, not to terrorize those too timid or shy to make a move.” 

The olive-complexioned boy had broad shoulders that made him look like an upside down cone; his facial features were angular on all fronts, aquiline nose neath a bony bridge, eyes slanted with shrewdness, cleanly shaven jawline sharp enough to cut, a high fade hairdo that reeked of lavender gel, and a smile that reminded her of every frat boy she’d seen on dance apps or serials made specifically for streaming platforms. Cliche, yet still undeniably handsome.  

“Son Syun? So glad to see you here. I hope this doesn’t come off like I’m the kind of guy that tries everything he can to slip a drink to the lady but…” The boy produced a paper cup out of nowhere, “a drink, maybe?”

“Sure…” 

“Which one do you prefer?”

“The orange one, I guess,” Lorax’s Anus? What a choice. 

“Just so you know, I did protest the vulgarity of the name,” the boy’s laughter felt vivid “but it’s a good drink I promise you. We made these ourselves, this whole gallon was like twenty-five bucks top. Here,” he handed her the drink, “don’t accuse me of spiking your drink now that you saw me pouring it fresh out of the tap.”

“No, of course not…” Son took a small sip; it tasted like gasoline mixed with orange paint, “gah… that is… quite something. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know your name yet.” 

“I’m Mark, Mark Corrigan. We worked on the same project in that biology lab session, remember?”

“I’m bad at faces,” Son prevaricated, not caring to elaborate further.