Page 19 of Single Girl Rules #ThreeHeadedMonster

Long story short, Trent would be in the hospital all night, so he couldn’t come to the party. We’d had to walk back to their dorm, and now we were running late. And Ash was freaking out.

“Don’t worry,” said Scooter. He tried to put his arm around Ash, but she squirmed away. “I’ll get us there in no time.”

“No way,” said Chad.

“Why? Oh. You’re worried that I’ll crash again?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s dumb. What are the odds that I’d total two Lambos in one day?”

“For a guy who’s nicknamed Scooter because you crashed three scooters in 12 hours, I’d say pretty high.”

Scooter grunted. “You’re missing some important context there.”

“Am I?” asked Chad. “Am I really?”

Scooter adjusted his pink bowtie and mumbled the saddest little, “No.”

“I really think it’s best if we just don’t go,” said Ash. She looked longingly at the big screen TV that took up nearly an entire wall of Chad’s dorm room. “Anyone up for a Parks and Rec marathon?”

“And miss the party of the year?” I asked. “No way!”

“But…”

“I’ll watch TV with you every night this week if you come,” I said. I wasn’t able to leave her side until I figured out the true meaning of Rule #3 anyway, so I was gonna be hanging with her every night.

“Hmm…deal. But only if I can wear my comfy sneakers!”

I looked down at her feet. Heels would have looked better, but her sneakers weren’t the worst. They were somewhere in the middle. Not worthy of a boob honking, but also not bad enough to invoke Single Girl Rule #17: Friends don’t let friends wear ugly outfits. #RealTalk. “Deal.” We shook on it and then Ghostie picked us up and drove us to the Gryphon Club.

The frat houses at the University of New Castle were charming in their own way, but they were pretty much just old colonial Victorian houses with a few Greek letters thrown on the front. The Gryphon Club, on the other hand, owned an entire estate. Right in the middle of downtown Cambridge. It was so fancy that you couldn’t even see it from the road.

The gate swung open automatically as Ghostie turned onto the driveway. And then we had to drive another three minutes up a twisty, tree-lined drive.

Eventually we got to one of the coolest mansions I’d ever seen. And that was saying something. Because Daddy owned a lot of mansions. But his were mostly sleek and modern. The Gryphon Club, on the other hand, was in a freaking gothic castle.

“Ahh!” I squealed. “This is gonna be so much fun. I love castle parties.”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” asked Ash. “It kinda looks like somewhere you’d go if you wanted to get murdered.”

“Check out the grotesques.” I pointed to the roof.

“The what?” asked Ash.

“She’s talking about the gargoyles,” said Chad.

“Oh. Are those supposed to make me feel better? Because those things are creepy as hell.”

“Look closer,” I said.

Ash pressed her face to the glass. “Ah, I see it. They look like gryphons.”

“Do they?” I tilted my head. “Huh. I guess they do.”

“Wait, what were you talking about?”

“Their dicks, of course. Look at those things!” I tilted my head. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the work of the one and only Leopold van Doren.” He was my all-time favorite grotesque sculptor, because unlike most, he understood that grotesques were just a way to put penis sculptures on churches without getting in trouble.

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