Page 1 of The Pinkie Pact

First Impressions

Sky

Church. That was the maker of the toilet. And it wasn't the first time I'd thrown up in a Church toilet and wondered why the hell they'd thought that was a good brand name.

"Move over," my new roommate Kara muttered, trying to shove me to the side.

When I didn't budge, she gave up and tossed her cookies into the sink instead.

I was too weak to even get up. Kara slunk down onto the floor, her mascara streaking down her face. I was sure I looked the same way. Shit, we looked like a couple of junkies.

Not even caring about germs or grossness, I put my arms on the toilet seat and rested my head.

The last thought in my mind before oblivion? My first night at my new college, and I had already fucked up.

***

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pot. It had been months. And the smell instantly brought me back to my first two years of college at Syracuse when my roommates and I had smoked all the time.

We'd done just abouteverythingall the time, and I'd hit rock bottom.

My parents had yanked me out of there. And after a year of solid work, living at home, and promises of living a clean life, they'd given me another chance at a new school, George Washington University, in our lovely nation's capital.

And here I was again. Damn. I held my head in my hands, still in front of the disgusting toilet.

"You want some?" Kara came into the bathroom, holding out a joint.

What the hell? I knew from experience it'd help the head-splitting hangover. I took a small puff and closed my eyes, letting it calm me, the smell feeling like coming home for some strange reason.

"You can have it," Kara said.

I looked up. "Thanks." I took another puff, already feeling the effects. The truth was after not smoking weed for over a year, I was now a total lightweight. And it didn't take much to move my hangover to the side.

Kara went back to her bed, and I watched as she rolled another joint. We had just met last night, and I didn't know hardly anything about her, except that she was the daughter of a senator, a US Senator from New Hampshire.

My parents had been thrilled. They thought she'd be the perfect, squeaky clean roommate.

Right. Not exactly.

Kara's old roommate had dropped out because of bad grades. So we'd both needed a roommate, and we'd been paired together for our junior year, although I was a year older than her.

And our first night had started off with a bang, Kara insisting on taking me out to her favorite bars, the drinks flowing. But the fun had really started when we'd gone to a frat party and ended up in the basement, drinking grain alcohol punch from a trash can.

I inhaled again, this time deeper, confident now I wouldn't cough, and before long, I felt much better. Finally standing up, I walked over to my bed and collapsed.

And that's when someone banged on the door.

"Fuck," Kara said, springing into action, throwing open the windows. She let loose some kind of spray, and now the room reeked of pot and citrus.

More pounding. "Open up, Kara," a male voice ordered. "I know you're in there."

Glancing at me, she heaved a sigh of relief. "It's just my brother."

Her brother?

"But he's even worse than the university police," she mumbled, heading to the door.

I was so damn high I didn't even know what to do. So I just cowered on my bed in the corner and sat there like a total dumbass, trying to come down from the paranoia that had hit me when the pounding began.

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