2 Whispering Read Online Free Page A

“That doesn’t sound safe.”
    I could see the memory of the last party she went to – the one where she was tied to a pyre and almost roasted alive – flitting through her mind. Her teeny, tiny little mind.
    “I think it will be fine,” I said. “We’re all going in a group.”
    “We went to the last party in a group, too,” she reminded me.
    “Actually, we didn’t,” I challenged. “Paris and I went together and you went with the girls down the hall who completely abandoned you to be gang raped and tied to a stake by a bunch of frat boys.”
    “When did that happen?” Rick No. 1 raised his eyebrows in surprise.
    “It’s nothing,” I waved him off.
    “Oh, great, now everyone is going to know,” Brittany wailed.
    Everyone in the room looked up when there was another knock on the open door. There was a strange woman standing in the entryway– and I couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be something wrong with her eyebrows.
    “Hi, I’m Mariska, I’m the new resident assistant and I just wanted to introduce myself.”
    “Oh,” I said, nodding knowingly at Paris. “I see what you were talking about.” Up close, Mariska clearly shaved her eyebrows off and then drew them back on – like that was normal or something.
    “Don’t change the subject,” Brittany yelled.
    “What was the subject?” I swung around on her.
    “The fact that you’re spreading my private business up and down the hall.”
    “Oh, I did not.”
    “You did, too.”
    “I did not.”
    “You did, too. Didn’t she Paris?”
    Paris pretended she didn’t hear the question.
    “Is something wrong here?” Mariska raised her eyebrows – or the drawn-on skin above her eyes, to be more apt.
    “There’s always something wrong in here,” Paris sighed irritably.
    “Brittany is just a little high strung,” I explained.
    “Zoe is just a little obnoxious,” Brittany countered.
    “Maybe we should have a rap session,” Mariska offered.
    “A rap session?” Did I time travel to the 1980s or something?
    “We can all sit down and talk about the issues that are clearly plaguing this room in a non-threatening environment,” Mariska offered. “We will pass around a talking stick – and only the person holding the stick can talk. We can get all of your issues out in the open and solved.”
    “So it’s a magic talking stick,” I offered.
    Paris choked back a laugh.
    “It’s a valid conflict resolution tactic,” Mariska argued.
    “Yeah, I’d rather go out with the guys and get drunk,” I said honestly.
    “That sounds like a good idea,” Paris agreed.
    Brittany swung her head between Mariska and me for a second and then swallowed resolutely. Even she didn’t want to hang out with the weirdo that drew her eyebrows on. “We’re going to a party.”
    Rick No. 1 started shaking with silent laughter.
    “What?” I challenged him.
    “It’s going to be a great night,” he laughed. “I can tell already.”

Four
    College parties aren’t like the movies. There aren’t crazy frat boys hanging out on the roof and there aren’t horny teenage girls lining up for wet T-shirt contests. It’s more like visiting a house with a hundred people you don’t know, ten people you do know, bad Justin Bieber music and a keg.
    That was exactly what I was looking forward to tonight, though. I was more than happy to shell out $7 for a red plastic cup with endless refills – all in the comfort of simple jeans and my purple Converse. It was just one of those nights.
    It took us about fifteen minutes to walk from the dorms to the off-campus house. While it was cold out, it wasn’t yet bitter. Thankfully, the house was big enough that a lot of people could mill about on three different floors without being too crowded.
    We had been at the party for about an hour when I separated from the group to refill my cup. It’s funny that you go to a party to ostensibly meet new people – but you really end up hanging out with the people you came