Senior Week

There was a party on a roof. We discovered it after hearing noise down the street walking home from a 24-hour diner. I had eggs and toasts. The waitress with the mullet made fun of me for my measly meal, but she called me sweetie and coming from her I didn’t take it as an insult. On the way out, some guy told me I had a nice dress. Kara said she wanted to punch him in the face and called out “Fuck you,” as he walked away. As we approached the party, we realized we knew people, but only in the way that most people are known in college: I had seen them before. We had classes together. I couldn’t remember any of their names. We climbed up the metal fire escape, drunkenly clutching the railing.
“Where the fuck are we?” I said when we got to the top.
“I don’t know,” Kara said.
We said hi to some people or she said hi to some people and I stood there feeling like I wanted more to drink even though I had been drinking for a solid thirteen hours. We ran into Bob who said, “I don’t know where the fuck I am.” He ran inside only to come back out and pee off the roof.
There were a couple of people making out a few feet away from us. Inside people were dancing, their hands up in the air.
“Do you want to go in there?” Kara asked.
“No,” I said. “I definitely do not want to go in there.”
A girl came up to us. I had class with her first year, but I hadn’t since. She’d missed a term or two and then transferred schools. We acted like we knew each other. I lit a cigarette. After she walked away I said, “It’s time to leave college.”
“I think it’s time to leave this roof,” Kara replied.