Chapter 20

Courtney Avery had a ritual of throwing parties weekly on every Sundays. Her parties were the definition of three things — drunk, disastrous and drunk.

Looking up at Courtney's house which seemed to be vibrating with the courtesy of the loud music playing inside, I gestured Savannah to straighten her shoulders. We needed to present an indifferent façade to the outside world as if we go to these kinds of parties all the time.

"Kate," I whispered slowly. "Have you ever been to wild parties?"

"No." She whispered back.

Savannah patted both of our shoulders. "It's your lucky day then."