Changers

1. Frat Party

I observed the house that would lead me to my murder.

It was monstrous for downtown Toronto, whose real estate erred on the entirely unaffordable side of the spectrum. The house was made from stone and had an obnoxious, conspicuous Greek sign hanging over its two-car garage that read "Alpha Delta Phi".

University boys drinking beer huddled on the house's wrap-around porch, dotting its entrance in rambunctious packs: a delight to behold and smell.

"This?" Caroline sniffed, squinting her eyes at the house. Fitz and Lincoln shook their heads in unison, trying to decipher their surroundings through skeptical gazes.

From a bird's eye view, we were a quintessential tableau of unsuspecting freshmen. If you zeroed in on our group, you'd first land on Caroline and her unconventionally beautiful face and cat-like eyes. She's a breath of mystery and fresh air, inverting your expectations with a quip just when you expect her to say the right thing, and saying the right thing just when you expect her to mutter a quip. She is on a perpetual teeter-totter of emotional regulation to adapt to her environment, while maintaining a quirky sense of identity.

Then, you'd pan to Fitz, whose real name is Joelle, but adamantly introduces herself as Fitz. Fitz has an obtrusive, unruly mane of curly red hair and a propensity for deadpan humour that does the opposite of fizz.

Beside Fitz is Lincoln with her curtain of straight, black hair and penetratingly observant, owl-like gaze. She's smart and she knows it.

When taken holistically, we probably looked like a parody of the Bratz Dolls: the anxiety edition.

"You don't want to go in?" Lincoln asked, chewing her fingernail between her teeth.

"Do I want to go inside... a house full of... smoke? Is that all smoke?" Caroline squinted through the darkness. "I mean is there any air? Will we be able to breathe?"

"Relax," Lincoln said, shaking her head. "Don't be so dramatic. That shouldn't be concerning."

"We came all the way here. We may as well go in," Fitz added to the discussion, committing herself to entering no man's land.

Just then, the "bouncer" – who was just a guy standing in front of a door with a self-important look on his face – moved out of our line of sight and we caught a glimpse of a Matt Damon look-alike. He ducked into a room, disappearing behind a door.

"Okay, alright ladies, that's it. I'm in," Caroline nodded firmly and began walking towards the stoop without even a glance back in our direction. The bottom of her black coat swayed around her knees as she took five decided steps forward.

"Fitz is right, we came all the way here. It would be a shame to leave now without giving the party, the environment, this city, our fellow party-goers, our fellow Torontonians, these fine, fine gentlemen, a single chance."

"Emphasis on single," I added.

Lincoln rolled her eyes. "Caroline, you sound like a cheap car salesman."

Caroline stopped in her tracks and faced us with her hand on her rounded hip. "It would be a shame to leave now. That's all I'm saying."

"I wonder why it would suddenly be a shame."

Caroline smiled whimsically, brushing off the sarcasm. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Couldn't be able to guess, Prentice, you yourself have any thoughts?" Fitz asked.

"Shocked and appalled at the insinuations. But yes, I am boy crazy, deal with it." Caroline said evenly and turned around to keep walking towards the house.