8

The Beta house was known for being the second-best, the house full of guys who hadn't been able to get into the Alpha house. Gradually, it had ceased to be a house of second-best to become a fraternity of parties and alcohol—it was the best at throwing parties. It was completely packed, with people at the entrance of the house already swaying, many of them dressed in yellow and blue—the colors of UCLA—with painted faces, or shirtless guys with a bear face drawn on their bellies. Mason Lee had the letter L written all over his torso in yellow, and he had painted around it in blue; he seemed pretty drunk already because when I passed by him and his slightly slanted eyes locked onto me before he wrapped his chubby arm around me, he smelled strongly of vodka and marijuana.

"Hey, my favorite babe!" he shouted.

I pushed—or tried to—his overweight body, but I couldn't break free from his octopus-like hug. It had taken me a bit longer to get out of the car, and Nora and Abby had already enter