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“Venereal, vernal, who gives a rat’s ass? Let’s play cards.”

I smile at him and change tactics. “What died up your ass?”

Danny grins. “Colt’s ex-girlfriend won’t stop texting.”

Sucks for him. I’m not above knowing that my friend is a fucking catch. He’s got this all-American sandy-haired, greenish-hazel eye thing going on. I’m a tall, skinny, funny fucker with a shock of blond on my head. It draws in a very different set of girls. Danny’s the brooding brunette with an artistic heart and quarterback’s body. But Colt’s newly single and the succubus won’t let go. I want to make sure he has a good time here.

I pop another round of beers and sit on the bed. We’ve moved the beds to the sides of the wall and combined the desks into a table. I’m having an actual round table delivered to the dorm tomorrow. Dorm? Strange old hotel in the middle of Paris? Same thing. But we’ll have a proper table tomorrow.

We’re here for three months and graduate in four. Before we head off to different colleges around the US, I intend to have a good time. For the next three months, I’m going to party, mess around, and do only what’s necessary to graduate.

I pick up the old-school hotel phone in the room and dial random numbers. “Have you unpacked yet, young man? If not, you had better get going. Inspection is in ten minutes.” I hang up, and the room explodes.

“Shit, what are you doing?” Danny asks.

“I’m bored. Surely, there’s trouble for us to find?”

Colton answers, “No, Tony. No. Stop it with that look. We’re playing cards and we’re cool until the welcome dinner tonight.”

Using my hand, I make a fart noise and then give a thumbs-down. I pick up the phone, and they all go back to ignoring me.

Danny tosses a pillow at me. I grew up calling him a different name back in Boston. But when we got to prep school, there was another kid with it on the football team, so I started calling him Dan, short for his last name, Danson, and it stuck. I don’t care what the fuck he’s called; he’s like a brother to me.

“Y’all play football together?” Tex pipes up.

Colt goes into a long explanation about how he and Danny Boy have played football together in city and state tournaments growing up and are now the wide receiver and quarterback studs at our prep school. I tune them out and make another prank call.

Boredom’s not a good look on me. It gives me time to remember all the shit I should do instead of having fun. It gives space to all the fucking rules set out for a Ladd man to follow. My obedient older brother seemingly follows most commands. But I know he secretly has zero intention of settling into the Ladd Enterprise conglomerate tight-ass family corporation bullshit. I jump up and down around the room like a pogo stick to change the narrative in my head.

We need wenches.

I push the number 666 and hope it’s an actual room. It’s ringing, and I’m getting giddy. Perhaps we need witches, not wenches. I cover the receiver and make enough noise to draw all the attention to myself.

“Gentlemen, are you ready?”

Tex asks, “For what?”

“For adventure!” It’s what I say instead of ‘Hey, want to stir up some trouble?’ It’s like a code word for my friends that I’m about to fuck shit up. And anyone around us doesn’t get worried. My friends are used to me; strangers take a minute.

A sweet but sexy voice coos “hello” into the phone, and I ask, “Are you possessed?”

makenzie

The music is super loud, and the girls are popping. This is a good time, and that’s all I want out of the next three months. Scam of my lifetime. I convinced my high school back in Reno to let me come here, even though we both know I’m not gonna graduate. I also weaseled a scholarship from a local church. The harder I dance, the further away all the crap from home gets.

I worked my ass off to get here, but not how most people expect. The church assumed I was multitasking my studies and activities. But the hustle was my full-time focus. I fed the homeless, attended every service, volunteered with the old people, and dusted the pews like a good girl.

Sure, I was also fucking the boys from the youth group. Sundays were my days to seek forgiveness and plead my case for Paris. I talked about spreading the word of God through fellowship in Paris. I would have said anything. I just wanted to go to France.

Given the circumstances of my double-wide trailer life, I never saw that in the cards for me. I’ll pay them back someday, but for now I get to have the adventure of a lifetime, as my mom calls it. We went to Chicago once, and it was beautiful, but it’s nothing like this. The ride from the airport and this dance party have been the best two hours of my life. For now, we dance. I’ll get a life when I get back.

I’m good at pretending, and I independently learned French. I can leave my small life behind and be larger. This is my one shot at seeing something besides the wrong side of Reno. The flight rocked, and the moment we hit international airspace, my best friend, Maggie, and I ordered a drink. Then we met two other girls from California on the plane. One’s a little goodie goodie for my liking, but who the hell knows? Maggie’s a bit like that, too, but she can hang. The California girls, Lizzie and Kris, join us in my room to keep the party going before we have to go downstairs to the welcome dinner bullshit. This dorm/hotel is filled with students from all over the US.

The phone is ringing. I leap over the bed to grab it, turning down the music. I hope we’re not busted this fucking early. It’s day one, 3:00 p.m. Who cares if we’re a little loud or tipsy? Maggie flashes me a look. I hope they only kick me out. It would suck for the others if they got punished for my delinquent vortex.

“Hello, are you going to be interesting?” It just comes out, and I hope to God it’s not a teacher.

“Are you possessed?” Is this a man or a boy? His voice is deep, and I hope he’s not like a teacher or a chaperone. Actually, who cares? He sounds cool as he purrs at me, waiting for a response. It’s a good joke because we’re in room 666.