But instead, I said hello back, probably sounding very awkward. I looked at this girl curiously. Megan Ford. Eighteen years old and gorgeous. Known fo... being a party girl drunk every weekend. I didn’t really know her too well. In fact, I barely knew her at all. We’ve never spoken a word to each other before that moment. The whole reason I was even in that bathroom in the first place is because Megan passed me a note in the hallway the day before. It was strange, I would say, that she had given. "Ow!" I shouted as a stray elbow connected hard with my ribs. "Jesus! Watch it!" "Oh, sorry, Bill," Kris apologized, sitting up, but still chuckling softly. The rough-housing came to an end. Bri retreated back to her room to shower, pack, and get ready. We didn't get on the road until almost eleven o'clock. Five hours in an old Mercedes with three girls and seven suitcases. The girls paid for gas and lunch at a Panera Bread in a little Missouri college town not unlike Clinton City. I'd spent. More

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