Free Hold On Tight by J. Minter Page B

crowd of college art students and teachers. The lecture had gone unbelievably well. Now girls were running circles around Mickey, who was being carriedon one of these ancient Aztec chairs that apparently had been on display in the lecture hall’s small anthropology museum.
    The whole hoopla was bound to reflect positively on Arno. He thought momentarily that perhaps that wasn’t his deepest of moments, but then brushed the idea away. Was that girl taking her shirt off right in front of Mickey? Wow.
    When he finally caught up to Mickey, his friend jumped off the chair and let out a war whoop in greeting. He was wearing a huge feather headdress that definitely looked like it belonged in a glass case.
    â€œGood job, man,” Arno said.
    â€œYou think they bought it?” Mickey grinned back.
    â€œYou could say that,” Arno said. “I mean, the fact that there was a spontaneous striptease happening on stage is a pretty positive sign, don’t you think?”
    All around them, girls were pulling off pieces of clothing and dancing. It reminded Arno of that Greek play he’d read for his literature class—the one where all the women get wasted and pull down a tree with their hands.
    â€œWho knew you could inspire such mayhem, dude,” Arno said. Then someone ran by and told them about a keg that was being set up behind some hall or other.
    Mickey’s eyes got all red and swirly, and he threw back his head and yelled, “To the beer, dudes!”
    By the time Arno had located the keg, there was music blaring from the open windows of the dorms and a line of people, excitedly rehashing the lecture, had formed. They were making a lot of loud, joyously nonsensical noises, too. Arno had lost Mickey again, but he got in line anyway—he figured once he had beer in his hands Mickey would reappear instantly.
    It wasn’t until he was next in line that he noticed the slender girl with the dark ponytail. She must have been standing in front of him the whole time. She was wearing tight jeans tucked into pirate boots and a shimmery tunic thing and she was bending over the keg. It took Arno several moments to realize that she was the same gorgeous girl from his half-dream last night.
    â€œNeed some help?” he said, feeling suddenly like this might be destiny.
    She looked back and smiled at him like she knew he would be there. Without saying anything, she stood gracefully and handed him her cup. Arno leaned over and exaggerated the motion of beer pumping, until he had four plastic cups full. The girl waited for him, and when he was done, they walked down the slope together, holding their drinks out in front of them so as not to spill a drop.
    â€œThat
was embarrassing,” she finally said, as she sat down on the grass. She shook her head so that herponytail danced against her back. They way she did it made Arno think that she wasn’t embarrassed at all.
    â€œNah,” Arno said, sitting next to her. “I’ve known lots of girls who have that problem.”
    She lifted her eyebrows as she took a sip of foamy beer and looked at the mayhem. “The thing is, I never drink beer.”
    â€œYeah, I’ve heard girls say that before, too.”
    â€œIt’s not that I don’t appreciate beer, and I’m not, like, frightened of the calories like most girls,” she explained, taking another sip of foam. “It’s just that when I drink, I prefer the wine my parents make.”
    â€œMake?’
    â€œWell, you know,
produce
. My parents own a vineyard in Napa. It’s gorgeous, and their pinot noir has a really elegant taste. They named one of their champagnes Lara, after me.”
    Arno wasn’t sure how something could taste elegant, but he liked the way she put a dramatic emphasis on the words
gorgeous
and
champagne
. It made her sound vaguely European. Also, she was even prettier than she had appeared last night, so he just nodded and said,