A/N: Normally I'm against big long author's notes but in this case I'll just have to indulge myself. Yay! I've posted another chapter. Thank you to every one of you three people who posted reviews, I needed those for moral support. Read my other story, it's good, I swear! By the Bye- I do not own Alka-Seltzer, Metallica concerts, the copyright to condoms or anything else that is purely not of my creation, or the plot line and major characters in my story. Rowan belongs to my brother and Kat Hammond belongs to me. Anyhoo, on with my story.

Chapter One: The Inconvenience of a Massive Hangover

Despite all I could say against my roommate Mary, there is one thing to her credit: she can squeal loud enough to wake the dead. Which I almost was, considering what I had drunk in abundance the night before. I raised my head off my pillow and opened my eyes as best I could. "Ow, sweet mother of God!" I closed my eyes again. The sun was way to bright. I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but my pounding head and Mary's squeals refused to abate, and so I rolled over again, this time sliding off my bed onto the floor. That was where Jen found me. She quietly opened the door and looked down at my broken, flayed body accompanied by the second largest hangover ever had by any human being before that (the first being Maharaja Sumnaan after his sixteenth wedding) and groaned, "Jesus, Lizzie, again?" Even the small whisper sent my head into Metallica concerts waves of pain. I moaned softly, and opened my eyes slowly, letting my eyes get used to the light. I saw Jen, my very tall, very thin sister in her bathrobe looking down at me, and glass of water in her hand. "Shut up please, Jen, I'm having the second largest hangover in the world right now and I'd appreciate it if Mary would SHUT HER YAMMERING PIE- HOLE!!!" I raised my voice so that Mary and the others could hear, though shouting racked my poor brain with new agony. "All right, I'll tell Mary to stop squealing. She sounds constipated when she does it, poor thing, maybe she should stick to jumping up and down like she used to," She handed me the glass of water and opened a packet of Alka- Seltzer and tipped the tablets in. "Here, drink this. It's the kind that stops hangovers. See you downstairs in a few." And she quietly closed to door behind her, leaving my Alka-Seltzer and me in peace.

*** When I finally went downstairs to breakfast, my world-class headache has turned into world-class bitchiness. Mary had stopped squealing (even the brain-dead need to breathe) and was now bouncing up and down in her seat. My cousin Rowan was talking to Jen, and Kat was burning Lucky Charms marshmallows with her lighter.

"OmigodLizzieguesswhatguesswhatguesswhatomigodyou'llneverguessI'lltellyou," Mary said. Mary almost always talks like that.

"Yeah Lizzie, guess what guess what?" said Kat scathingly. In a slight understatement, Kat wanted to destroy Mary, kill her first-born child and ruin her entire future.

"Shut up. I'll never guess and I don't think I want to know." I plunked myself down in a chair and started eating Trix out of the box.

"CharlieBingletonisherehe'shereandhe'slivingrealclosehe'shereandI'mgoingtose ehimsothere!" she stuck her tongue out at Kat, who flipped her off in response.

"Who?"

"Some rich preppie-flake who's face has hit every cover of every teen's mag in the country," said Rowan, also taking a handful of Trix.

"Oh. Pop culture sucks. Thank God I only read Mad and Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comic." My head was feeling a little better. Good. Now I could strangle Mary when Kat did.

"How was the party last night?" Lydia asked, taking the subject away from the realm of her older sister's embarrassing stupidity.

"Yeah did you get drunk and start a revolution?" asked Jen.

"Well you know about the drunk part already," said Rowan, handing back the Trix box with a grimace. "Liz-mastah, don't you have any Frosted Shredded Wheat instead?"

"Nope, sorry. Apparently the frosting causes cancer." I poured myself some orange juice.

"Really?"

I winked at him. "No, but it sounded good in context,"

Jen sat down next to me. "So how about that party?"

I grimaced at the memory, "Nah, it sucked royally, too many of those future truck driver guys who whistle and hand you drugged drinks. Not my kinda party."

"What about that hottie Jake?" Rowan drawled.

"Don't mention that name to me ever again. He's dead to me," I tried out my Marlin Brando "Godfather" voice. Kat lit a clover-shaped marshmallow to a bright purple brilliance, attracting Rowan's attention for a second.

"Well, you've got another chance today. There's a big party. "thang" at Master Bingleton's house. Open house. No "rich kids only" crap. You can try to go to a party without getting drunk tonight," said Kat.

"That'll be a first," joked my sister.

"Why do I wanna go to the party of some preppie rich kid who epitomizes pop culture? Why can't I write my art paper like a normal college student and sit around watching late night Care Bears on TV with a bottle of Sunny D and sink into the couch in my drunken loneliness? Why can't you let me do that for one night? Just one?"

"Because if you do it for one night, you'll do it forever. I know you will. So, are you coming? It won't be the same without you," retorted Jen.

"Yeah, no drunken scenes, no loud voice singing punk songs off-key, no jumping into the pool fully-clothed for other reasons than attention. damn," Rowan smirked.

I could what they were doing. But still it made me react like a little boy saying that his daddy could beat another kid's dad no problem.

"Oh yeah?" I poked Rowan's chest. "I bet you anything you want that I'll go, be a hit and not get drunk. How 'bout it, sunshine?" my rebuke got a snigger from Kat, Lydia and Jen.

"I'll wager my entire collection of CDs. You wager." I glanced at Kat for a split second, "A date with a girl of my choosing," he looked at me suspiciously, "And no, no lunch ladies this time, I swear,"

"That was the grossest three hours of my life," Rowan muttered as we laughed heartily.

'It's a deal," said Jen decisively. "Rowan needs a woman and you need to go one party without bringing shame on the Bennet family, ain't that right Bernadette Peters?"

"Right."

I didn't have time to realize what I'd done. I didn't have time to figure out that my life might be altered from it's scarily Bridget Jones-ish format. I didn't even have time to finish my orange juice and reach for more Trix, because at that moment, Mary spoke up: "OmigodLizzieguesswhatguesswhatguesswhatomigodyou'llneverguessI'lltellyou: CharlieBingletonisherehe'shere.-what?" she asked, as we all turned to look at her.