God ing damn it.   I clutch my abdomen, already knowing that I’ll be vomiting again in a minute. This is not what I expected— Or maybe it is, considering my low tolerance for alcohol. But I came to have fun, not to be spending my night away inside the club’s restroom where God knows how many other immature humans had vomited prior to my entrance.   What is ‘fun’ anyway?   I squeeze my eyes shut as I taste the bile arising at the back of my throat. A cough is all it takes to launch another mouthful of vomit into the toilet. God, it stinks.   It takes me a minute to realize that someone is pounding on my stall’s door. Aside from my unfortunate ability to smell and taste at the moment, none of my senses seem to be working. I gasp for oxygen, unable to respond.   “Yeong, you doing alright in there?” Must be Yongsun.   I gag and vomit for the umpteenth time.   “Doesn’t sound like she is.” And of course Yongsun would bring Byulyi with her.   “Open the door. We’re going home.”   “Does she sound like she can move right now?” I know Byulyi has always been the smarter one.   “Open the door at least.”   I weakly pull on the roll of toilet paper to wipe my mouth and toss the wad into the toilet afterwards. I pop a piece of peppermint candy into my mouth and flush the toilet, almost wobbling towards the door to open it. There is no way I’d let my friends pull my hair back and smell my noxious vomit. The embarrassment would be unbearable.   “Jesus—I can barely recognize you, Yeong. You’re paler than that pole dancer’s foundation.”   “Thanks.” I mutter and struggle to stride towards the exit.   Someone needs