I fumbled my keys as I pulled them out of my pocket. They clattered to the ground and slid beneath the door.

  “No!” I yelled as I dove down, trying to stop them. All I succeeded in doing was bashing my fingers against the door and bending one of my nails back. Hissing in pain, I stuck the finger in his mouth and slumped against the door, defeated.

  Footsteps came through the doorway, muffled, but growing clearer. Then, the clinking of keys and the turning of a lock. I looked up as the door opened to see Donovan grinning ear to ear, my keys in hand. “Lose something?”

  With a good-natured scoff, I stood and grabbed the keys.

  This, of course, let Donovan get a good look at my face, which was doing its best impression of a Picasso since Skylar’s “training”. He grimaced. “Ugh, looks like you lost more than one thing. Did you get into a fight?”

  I cringed. I did not want to give my nice, new doctor-in-training roommate a false impression of what I got up in my spare time. “Well, sorta, but not like a fight fight.”

  Donovan cocked his head, one eyebrow shooting up his forehead like it needed to escape. He might as well have pressed X to Doubt.

  “I’m taking martial arts classes.” That wasn’t totally a lie. “Just starting so, I’m not very good.”

  Donovan laughed. “You don’t say. How many times you get hit in the face?”

  “Lost count pretty quickly. Fifty?” Inwardly, I sighed in relief. Donovan seemed to believe me.

  Donovan stepped out of the doorway and waved me in. “Come in, let me see if I can get any of this patched up.”

  He led me into our apartment and sat me down at the table while he went to get the first-aid kit. Spread over the tabletop was a thick textbook open to a page containing a diagram of something medical, probably. Either that or it was an alien embryo. A sheet of illegible notes and a plate with a half-eaten PB&J took up more space. The notes had a smear of purple over some million-syllable-long term that probably had a perfectly good one-syllable synonym normal people used.

  I sat down with a groan. I’d be feeling this all weekend. Across the room, Grins the Skeleton made eye contact (socket contact?) with me, his bared teeth mocking me beneath his pink cowboy hat.

  “Oh, shut up, Grins.” I glowered at him. “I gave her a pretty good right hook.”

  The skeleton did not believe me.

  “You say something?” Donovan returned with the little red case with a white cross on it.

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing, I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

  Donovan eyed me curiously as he sat down. He shook his head as he opened the kit. “Let’s see here. Nothing too bad. Couple of these cuts should get disinfected, just in case.” As he used the sterilized wipes and other first-aidy things, he let out a low whistle. “Damn, these are some nasty bruises. Were you blocking with your face or what?”

  I hissed as the disinfectant stung my split skin. “Yeah, they told me I shouldn’t do that.”

  “Well, I would listen to that advice.” Donovan grinned as he slapped a couple of bandages over the cuts. He stood. “Can’t do anything about the bruises and swelling, sorry. You can try an ice pack.”

  I ambled over to the couch and flopped down, leaning back into the cushion. “Do we have an ice pack?”

  “Um…”

  I heard the freezer open and Donovan rummaging around. A minute later, a plastic bag filled with ice cubes came sailing over the couch in a perfect arc. The sun streaming through the window caught the facets of the ice cubes and refracted a brilliant rainbow that dazzled my eyes and distracted me from the fact that the parabola’s end was my groin.

  SMACK!

  Knock knock. Who’s there? Pain.

  Five pounds of frozen water directly to my gonads.

  It was the greatest tragedy the world has known since the burning of the Library of Alexandria. The Fall of the Roman Empire paled in comparison to the pain I felt.

  Somewhere through the haze of eternal agony that had reduced my world to a pain like none other in the history of existence, I heard Donovan laughing. I managed to open teary eyes to see the tall med student doubled over, revelling in my suffering.

  “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I thought you’d catch it.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. I cleared my throat and wheezed, “Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor?”

  Donovan wiped his eyes, mirth infusing his voice. “Well, not yet.”

  “I’m still suing you for malpractice.”

  Donovan threw up his hands. “That’s it. My career is over.” He grinned at me.

  I groaned and flopped over on the couch, trying to ride out the ache.

  “You’re going to Lexa’s party tonight, right?” Donovan asked.

  I grunted an affirmative, my face smushed into the couch cushions. “Mmm mmm mmmmm?”

  “Huh?”

  I raised my head. “Are you going?”

  “Nah, man. I’d love to but you know… school.” He gestured at the textbook on the table. “Studying. I’ve got a midterm on Monday and I ain’t got all the stuff memorized yet.”

  “Sucks.” I mumbled. “Every part of med school sounds terrible.”

  Donovan scratched his head. “Not all of it. Just most…”

  The throbbing had lessened, but I still ached. I crawled up the couch and flopped over the backrest to look at my roommate. “You been to her parties before?”

  “A couple.”

  “What are they like?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Loud, expensive drinks, lots of rich kids, influencers trying to one-up each other. Everybody wants to be in the spotlight, impressing Lexa with whatever’s hot right now.”

  I grimaced. That sounded like the kind of ridiculous high-school YA drama stuff that affection-starved teens thought was the be-all end-all of pop culture.

  Donovan must have noticed how unenthused I looked. “It’s not all bad, though. Lexa’s personal chef always makes killer snacks. I’m talking five star, Gordon Ramsey-type hors d’oeuvres.” He pronounced those last two words with a truly awful French accent.

  “Great,” I muttered. “At least I’ll be able to chew on a thousand-dollar gold-plated leaf while I’m publicly ridiculed.”

  Donovan grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. “Exactly. That’s the spirit.”

  I flopped my face back into the couch cushion with a groan. My only hopes were Lucky and Jaz. And honestly, I didn’t even know them that well. Course, I had blown up a man with Jaz and that sort of thing had a bonding effect.

  With a hand on my newest icepack-induced injury, I waddled to the bathroom to shower and change. The party was over an hour away so I had some time to dread its imminent arrival. The shower was refreshing and helped with the aching from my beat-down earlier. But when I wiped the fog from the mirror and caught the watery reflection of my face, it was still a mottled mess.

  I gripped the edges of the sink and grit my teeth. “I really should have asked Skylar to wait till next week to start this. Not that she woulda listened to me…”

  I threw on my jam-stained jeans that had survived the fire and Donovan’s old, shrunken T-shirt. It was one of those band tour shirts with all the locations and dates on the back. I’d never even heard of the band before, but whatever, I couldn’t complain. My wardrobe currently consisted of mostly ashes.

  The next forty minutes were passed on my bed, aimlessly scrolling on my phone. I ended up back on VorteX. The posts were way stranger and more entertaining than any of the typical social media sites. I scrolled past a music video for a new rap song the Bogongo Gang had released, featuring a small flying ship that kinda looked like an airborne submarine. It had the words Eon Institute Research Division painted on the side and could not have been more clearly stolen. They even added #pilfered. After was another robot gladiator fight that both Red and Chin liked, which ended with one robot’s head getting punched through the cage. Then there was an ad for something called Keen Eye Bros, picturing two overweight, balding and greasy-looking fellows in trenchcoats. One wore a fedora, the other two separate monocles, which just seemed like glasses with extra steps.

  I scrolled by the next post before my thumb froze over the screen. Eyes narrowing, I scrolled back up to look at it again. It was a post by WindWalker_87 and had been liked by Cool_Jaz. It was just a picture of a girl with beautiful black hair done in a long braid, standing on a bank near the river at sunset. A pretty picture, sure, but I didn’t care about it. No, what caught my attention was the fuzzy, indistinct shadow of a bipedal bunny rabbit in the background. It was a bit hard to be sure, but it looked like he was carrying a rifle.

  “The Bunny Assassin!” I shot upright. “I’m not insane!”

  Donovan’s muffled voice came through the door. “Umm… that’s not the most reassuring thing to hear. You good bro?”

  I winced and cursed myself for saying that aloud. Donovan wasn’t supposed to find out about any part of the Other Life. He was a good dude. I didn’t want any Saints or other assorted ninja types after him. “Oh, nothing, sorry.” I poked my head out the door to see my roommate at the table, using his pen as a chew toy. “I was just watching a show.”

  Donovan raised an eyebrow. “With a bunny assassin?”

  “Yesssssss.” I lied. “It’s anime?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “Nope. Statement. Of fact. For sure.”

  Before Donovan could question my choice of entertainment, someone knocked on the door. He frowned.

  “Oh, I got it. That’s my friends. I invited two of them to the party. Guess they got here a bit early.” I bumbled out of my room, bumping into the doorframe before scampering across the apartment to the door.

  “Cool,” Donovan said. “From the way you were talking, it sounded like you were gonna be going alone.”

  I shrugged. “No, but don’t know if it’ll help.” I opened the door.

  Jaz and Lucky were waiting on the other side. Jaz wore black jeans and a black leather jacket over a pink shirt. For once, she wasn’t covered in oil and grime and instead had on a bit of matching eye shadow and eyeliner. Lucky sported a sparkly silver shirt long enough to pass for a dress over dark leggings. A sliver necklace with a heart pendant hung around her neck and she too wore makeup.

  “Hi.” I greeted the girls. Something about Lucky was bothering me and for once it wasn’t the vibes that she would enjoy murder. No, something was missing. Something orangeish-red and fluffy. I leaned forward to look behind Lucky.

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  “Whoa! Are you checking out my ass?” Lucky asked, putting up her hands.

  Jaz clicked her tongue. “Dude, that’s creepy.”

  My face felt like it was trying to spontaneously combust. I backed up faster than a top-end hard drive, stuttering and spluttering. I might as well have forgotten all words.

  Both Jaz and Lucky were grinning ear to ear. Lucky’s giggle was almost malicious.

  I wanted to die.

  Maybe the Saints would throw another grenade at me and spare me from this humiliation.

  “But... But your tail? Where is it?” I stuttered.

  Lucky turned to Jaz with a cackle. “Hah! Told you!”

  The mechanic groaned, pulling a crumpled five from her pocket and slapping it into Lucky’s outstretched hand.

  Lucky took it gleefully as she pushed me aside and barged into my apartment.

  “Wait, you aren’t gonna answer me?”

  Jaz patted me on the shoulder as she stepped inside. “No, she isn’t.”

  I heard Donovan say, “So, you must be Arthur’s friends… whoa!” His chair skidded across the floor as he shot to his feet. Papers scattered off the table, fleeing like teens avoiding their responsibilities. “Not what I was expecting.”

  Jaz put a hand on her hip, jutting her chin out. “Oh yeah? And what were you expecting, String Bean?”

  Donovan ignored the devastating nickname and ran a hand through his hair. “Not two lovely ladies, that’s for sure.” He looked my way and mouthed, “Damn!”

  I don’t think Donovan had quite grasped subtlety yet, because he did it directly in front of Jaz and Lucky.

  Before he could say something that would get both our asses handed to us, I stepped up and cleared my throat. “Donovan, this is Lucky and Jaz. I work with them.”

  Donovan furrowed his brow as he looked back and forth between me and the girls. “Must be some pizza place.”

  Jaz snorted. “You have no idea.”

  That was true. Donovan couldn’t imagine the Red Pineapple if he were sleep-deprived and hopped up on shrooms.

  Donovan seemed to gather himself. He clasped his hands together. “Well, uh, welcome to my place. Can I get you gals anything?”

  “We’re going to a party,” Jaz said. “Nah.”

  “But you can point me to the washroom,” Lucky piped up. She held a pink plastic makeup bag. “I’ve got to hide Arthur’s hideousness.”

  Donovan gestured down the hall. “Good plan.”

  With a giggle that curdled my blood, Lucky grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. She slammed her bag down on the countertop and swept everything onto the floor, including my borrowed toothbrush, which ended up in the garbage.

  “Hey!” I snatched it up and glared at Lucky. My glare melted off my face as I watched Lucky setting out her myriad of makeup components with a manic glee. The fire in her eyes as she organized brushes and pens and some weird clampy thing reminded me far too much of an interrogator preparing their tools for a lovely bout of torture.

  “Wh… what is that?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Lucky approached me, instruments of beauty and horror in hand. “Just stay still.”

  I closed my eyes and waited for the nightmare to end.

  Eventually, Jaz came to check up on us.

  Lucky had done her best, concealing most of the bruising. At least I didn't look like a month-old banana peel anymore.

  Lucky squinted as she considered her handiwork, grabbing my chin to twist my head back and forth with zero regard for my spinal cord. "That'll have to do."

  Jaz didn't look up from her phone. "Unless you wanna be more than fashionably late."

  I checked the time. 7:13. Lexa had told me to show up at 7:00 sharp. Oh well, she'd have to deal with 7:00 dull.

  The three of us bade Donovan farewell before taking the stairs to the penthouse.

  Thumping base notes vibrated through the floor before we were halfway up. By the time we reached the door, I could hear voices and laughter over the ear-splitting mainstream music that everyone pretended to like because they thought everyone else liked it. The hall outside was littered with enough shoes to stock a Skechers.

  "This thing's in full swing already," Jaz said.

  I swallowed as I approached the door. My heart was pounding to the beat that was fast enough to concern a cardiologist. I looked back at the girls. "Do I knock?"

  They shared a smile before Lucky put her arm around my shoulders. "No, you should stand out here quietly until someone in there notices you."

  I frowned. "Your voice does not convey sarcasm."

  "That's because I'm serious." Lucky spun away with a grin. "We'll go in and you can wait out here until you're personally invited in."

  I rolled my eyes. "Ugh. I'm not a vampire. I just wasn't sure of the party etiquette."

  Jaz snorted. "Those two words do not go together." She was tired of waiting and rapped her fist on the door.

  A moment later, a fit dude with a sharp jawline opened the door. His black hair was tousled messily in a way that only could have been achieved with copious amounts of spray and gel. He gazed quizzically at us. "Do I know you?"

  Beyond him, I glimpsed the large, open suite filled with people bobbing to the music as multicoloured lights flashed over them.

  "Uh, no," Lucky said, as if it were the dumbest question she's ever heard.

  The dude narrowed his eyes. "It's invite only. Sorry."

  As he moved to close the door, I held up my hand. "Hang on. I'm Arthur. You know, the guy Lexa is throwing the party for?"

  The guy stared at me for a long moment. I was pretty sure the dude forgot what he was doing.

  I cleared my throat. "Yo, um, where'd you go?"

  "Huh? Oh yeah, right. Armand, of course." The guy rubbed his nose and stepped aside.

  "Armand?"

  Lucky's laugh swept away my indignation at this guy not caring enough to remember my name 30 seconds after hearing it.

  As we entered the penthouse, the dude headed toward a cluster of tight dresses, high heels and excessive makeup. "Yo, Lexa! Artwork's here!"

  "That's not even a name!" My complaint was lost in the din.

  Detaching herself from the gaggle of glamoured gossipers, a pink crop top-clad Lexa Safar greeted me with a practiced smile. “Arthur, you made it!” Her eyes scanned over Jaz and Lucky with far too calculating a gaze for my liking.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I brought friends along,” I said.

  Lexa’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course not. It’s a party after all. Your friends are welcome to mingle. Just try not to make a mess…” She narrowed her eyelids as she spoke. It was subtle, but judging by Jaz’s smirk, she noticed it.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaz said.

  The mechanic was at least half a foot taller than Lexa, but the smaller girl stood her ground.

  “Well, enjoy my party, girls,” Lexa said dismissively. She pushed past Jaz and slipped her arm through mine. “Come now, Arthur. You’re the guest of honour.”

  I was dragged toward the kitchen against my will. My coworkers watched the kidnapping and laughed. So much for backup.

  The hair gel guy and Lexa’s minions followed us as Lexa brought me to a fancy marble-top island. Some goth chick with enough black and white makeup to pass as a mime and a shredded Asian guy with full sleeve tattoos were already waiting.

  In the centre of the counter was something covered by one of those fancy waiter lid things that was usually hiding an exquisite delicacy, or sometimes a severed head. I was pretty sure we weren’t in the genre for the head.

  “So, this is the guy,” Buff Dude said, looking me over.

  Hair Gel nodded. “Yeah, this is Antoine.”

  “Arthur,” I corrected.

  “That’s what I said.”

  The minions (there were five of them) all began giggling and gossiping about me, clearly thinking the thumping music was covering their voices. It wasn’t. Apparently, I gave off NPC energy.

  Goth Girl glared at me through the veil of unnaturally black hair that shrouded most of her face, like I’d just insulted her mom.

  Lexa snapped her fingers to shut everyone up. She turned to me. “Well, Arthur, this is your official welcome to the Pinevale Club.” She introduced the cool kids of Pinevale Heights. The rest of the partygoers didn’t matter, I guess. Hair Gel was Russ, Buff Dude was Kai, Goth Girl was Amy, Minions 1 through 5 were Maddy, Katelynn, Sara, Kimberleigh and Angelica.

  “We made you a cake,” one of the Minions said. I’d already forgotten which basic white girl was which.

  I pointed at the covered plate.

  “Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and pull that off.” One of the other Minions giggled.

  I did not like the way they were all looking at me. Like a pack of hyenas. Russ was practically bouncing on his toes as he waited. He reminded me more of a dog than a hyena. A very dumb dog. Feeling like I was being set up, I grabbed the fancy lid and lifted it up.

  “… Wow.”

  The cake underneath was an expertly crafted and extremely detailed miniature diorama of a house burning down. It was a work of art and the most tone-deaf thing I’d ever been given.

  Russ snickered as he slapped a plastic toy firefighter’s helmet on my head. “Got you something too.”

  Nope, check that. The most insulting thing I’d been given. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a scoff of disbelief.

  The minions whispered in each other’s ears, giggling with sadistic glee. Russ beamed at me like a kid showing off his toy collection. “So, whaddya think, Airborne?” (Seriously, did he think those were actual people names?)

  “I… I can’t believe you did this for me.” There was a slight shake in my voice.

  Russ clapped me on the shoulder as everyone around laughed. Apparently they thought I was overwhelmed by their thoughtlessness and not trying to contain the rage bubbling up inside me. I didn’t know what kind of sick joke they were playing, but staring at the frosted edible sculpture brought the memories of that night rushing back. It was the closest I’d ever been to death. I’d nearly been murdered. Assassinated. And they were making fun of it.

  I met Lexa’s eyes. She wasn’t laughing, but watching with a dangerously satisfied smirk on her coloured lips. In that moment, she reminded me of a cat playing with its meal, enjoying its final moments before it was devoured.

  Her lips moved. “Why don’t you blow out that candle?” Her words carried a challenge.

  “What candle?” I hadn’t seen one on the cake.

  The buff guy, Kai, fished something out of his pocket and tossed it to Russ, who caught it with a snicker. He flicked open a chrome lighter and lit the candle before shoving it unceremoniously into the cake. He then slid the whole thing down the counter toward me.

  Now, I’m no connoisseur of candles, but… the candle looked strange. It was thick, a big red cylinder with the top folded over into a lip. The wick was weird too, way longer than normal, flopping over the side and now, burning quickly, shooting sparks.

  Using all my detective skills, I decided it wasn’t a candle. But I knew what it was.

  “Make a wish, Armband,” Russ laughed. He was stepping back. Behind him, the minions were covering their ears.

  It was a firecracker.

  POW!

  A rain of cake splattered across the kitchen. Chunks of frosted goodness nailed everybody like delicious shrapnel, but mostly me, since I was nearest when cake went bye-bye.

  My ears rang and I dropped to the ground, covering my head.

  I wasn’t in Lexa’s suite anymore. I was back in the flaming wreckage of my basement, crawling away from the grenade explosion. I felt blood dripping down my face obscuring my vision. I could taste it, sweet blood.

  “Not again!” I groaned. I wiped my eyes but only smeared it more.

  A blurry shape approached; a figure. They said something that I couldn’t make out. The Bitter Saints. The image of their soulless, blank helmets was burned into my mind. It must have been them. They found me and were here to finish the job.

  Last time I’d been a sitting duck. Or, more like a dazed chicken. With one leg. Regardless, this time I didn’t intend to go down without a fight.

  A familiar cylindrical grip appeared in my hand.

  The figure closed in and reached out a hand.

  “Don’t touch me!” I yelled. Surging to my feet, I threw a right hook, twisting my hips and shifting my weight like Skylar had taught me in the few moments when she wasn’t using me as a punching bag. My fist connected with the figure’s jaw and they stumbled back, swearing.

  I still couldn’t see through the blood? No, the colours were wrong as was the texture.

  The figure yelled something at me that sounded like “Damn you, Aardvark!” They charged at me.

  The bat was in my hands. I didn’t even remember summoning it, but hey, I wasn’t gonna complain.

  I swung as hard as I could.

  Now, my spatial awareness wasn’t great at the best of times. And this was oh so far from my best of times. This was TOP 3 worst Arthur moments of all time.

  The bat slammed into something solid with an echoing crack. The something was the island counter. A bright blue light burst from the impact and the entire countertop was ripped from the cabinets and flung across the room.

  The motion must have cleared some of the, what I now could tell was icing, from my eyes, so I could watch in stunned horror as the two hundred-pound sheet of solid marble careened through the air directly toward the five minions.

  CRUNCH!

  They went down like bowling pins, with one of them being pinned entirely beneath the marble slab.

  “What the…” I looked around in confusion. People were screaming and yelling, the smoke alarm was blaring, everything was covered in cake, but nowhere to be seen were any bikers in black and purple.

  “Where’d they go?” I spun around, searching for the Saints. All I saw was Lexa Safar staring at me in shock and anger. Her eyes flicked down to the bat in my hand and back to my face, before narrowing.

  I heard footsteps behind me. Russ was rushing toward me, his nose bleeding and crooked. Before he could reach me, Jaz intercepted him, grabbing his wrist and pinning it behind his back.

  “Cool it, Hairspray,” she growled.

  “Let me go!” Russ yelled. Jaz twisted harder. “Ow ow ow! Ok! Stop!”

  Kai stepped forward. Jaz shot him a glare, but he pushed past them both and raced to where the girls were. Lucky was already there, helping them get up, the ones that could anyway. One of them had a broken leg, while a second was holding her arm awkwardly. They were screaming and crying and just generally freaking out.

  One of the girls was trying to pull the pinned girl out, which was only making her scream. “Somebody help Angelica!”

  Lucky pulled the girl away as Kai rushed over and assessed the situation. Angelica’s entire lower half was pinned beneath the countertop.

  Jaz swung Russ around and pushed him toward the commotion. “Grab a corner.” Russ shot her a dirty look as he rubbed his shoulder, but he listened. Both he and Jaz hurried over to help Kai lift the slab of marble off Angelica.

  “On three,” Jaz said.

  “Wait, on three or three and then lift?” Russ asked.

  Jaz gave him a look. “What part of on three sounds like after three?”

  “Sorry, just making sure.”

  “One, two, three!”

  The countertop was heaved off the poor girl and discarded off to the side. As soon as the weight was lifted off her, blood began spraying from her mangled leg.

  Lucky made a face. “Ugh, that doesn’t look good.” The girl she had her arm around, either Maddy or Sara, vomited all over the floor and Lucky’s shoes. “Hey!”

  Lexa rushed over to Angelica and clamped her hands down over the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “Somebody give me a belt!” Her hands and outfit were immediately stained crimson. Jaz unbuckled her belt and knelt beside Lexa.

  “You gotta stop the bleeding,” Lexa said. As Jaz nodded and wrapped the belt around the girl’s leg, Lexa called to the goth girl. “Amy! 911 now!”

  Amy gestured to the phone already held to her ear, the call already going through.

  I stood rooted in place, watching with a sort of detached horror. It didn’t feel real. Maybe I was just imagining this. Maybe it was another dream. The bat felt heavy in my grip. My hands were shaking.

  No, this was real. No one can fake the feeling of rising guilt like I was feeling. It felt like a badger was clawing at the inside of my ribcage. I watched the pool of blood growing around Angelica’s leg as the others tried to stem the bleeding. She had passed out, her face bone white.

  Managing at last to speak past the lump in my throat. “Is she going to be ok? Can I help?”

  Lexa looked over her shoulder, flecks of scarlet stark against her skin. Her eyes bored into me with such intensity, it felt like a physical blow. She didn’t yell. Honestly, it would have been better if she had. Her voice was low and quiet, wavering with barely controlled emotions. All she said was one word. “Leave.”

  That was it. I was officially terrified of Lexa Safar.

  I barely processed that my legs were moving until I was already out the door, standing in the hall. There was no more music, or voices, not even any more screaming. Just the hum of the lights in the hallway.

  I looked back at the doorway. I’d been worried my social ineptitude would ruin the party, but this was so much worse.

  To no one but myself, I said, “I think I messed up.”

  Understatement of the century.