The University of Wisconsin was always where I was meant to go to school, and I knew it from a young age. Of course, it ended up working out perfectly since I was close enough to home so I could be there for Mom and Brooke as they navigated life with multiple sclerosis on their own.

For quite some time, it had just been the three of us doing our best, as my parents had gotten a divorce when I was thirteen. It was probably for the best, and as far as I knew, there were no hard feelings, or at least there was as little damage as possible. But when I finally noticed that there was something more going on with Mom's health besides stress and anxiety, with the way she had a hard time seeing and moving around, it was clear that I was going to have to grow up fast.

With the money I made working at a stupid grocery store when I could have been interning my way closer to a job out of college, I kept us on our feet. We were a family, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made. My mother certainly did for me all throughout my life.

I looked over at Ryan, who exhaled a cloud and smiled. "It's really cold here, but I do like being a dragon sometimes."

I laughed. There had to be some kind of reason that a desert Arizona kid would end up north in Wisconsin, but just like me, it was information that didn't matter to anyone outside of those who already knew.

The campus of the University of Wisconsin was beautiful, even when it was covered in a blanket of snow. It was in between two lakes, and when it was warm enough outside, I liked to take my laptop to the water and get all of my work done there while I watched the boats on Lake Mendota. But with the temperature dipping below freezing that evening, I tugged my hat back over my ears and made sure to they weren't left out in the elements, and I reminded myself that the air by the water would be even colder.

"I figured we would have run into a party or something by now," Ryan said. "Maybe everyone left to go home for Christmas already."

"Before finals? I don't think so," I said.

"Some people don't have finals, Layla. I don't. You only have one," Ryan said.

It was true, but I wasn't quite sure how I was supposed to have writing finals besides putting the skills I had learned to use by writing a paper to be submitted online. Having a photography final would be even more difficult.

"You're right though. I thought for sure we would see something by now," I said.

"Wait." Ryan held out his arm in my path, and I stopped before I would bump into him. "Do you hear that?"

I paused for a moment. All I could hear was the wind. I shook my head.

"It's music," Ryan said. "That means people. Events."

I still couldn't hear it, but there was a difference between Mozart and Nicki Minaj people and events. Both could be newsworthy, but I had a feeling we were looking for more of the Minaj crowd if we wanted a story that could replace mine and Courtney's at the same time.

As we kept walking in the direction of the library, I began to hear the music, and with each step we took, it grew louder, which was odd for the quieter side of campus.

Metallica: a third type of gathering that I hadn't considered.

But when it led us to the Pyle Center, which was essentially a nice meeting hall with rooms for banquets and conferences, it was like our search had come to an end.

"They're not going to let us in there if we're not supposed to be at this really weird banquet with really loud music," I said. "I mean, seriously. What kind of gathering is this?"

"That's exactly why we have to get in. Who plays Enter Sandman at a banquet?" Ryan asked. "Do you have your credentials?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah, but The Badger Times isn't exactly a free pass into anywhere I want to go. Private events don't need reporters, and it's incredibly unprofessional to act like they do."

"Can we try?"

"Absolutely not. It'd make us look foolish."

"Please? I have to know what's going on in there, and you're getting all uptight again."

"I'm not uptight. I'm curious too, obviously, but just because it sounds like a fun, rowdy event in there, it doesn't mean that we're invited. There are a million reasons why someone would—" I trailed off. "Well, we need a story, don't we? Isabel's gonna run with mine otherwise."

He nodded. "Inspiration isn't just gonna hit us out of nowhere. We need to search it out."

He was right. Again.

Of course, I was also right that asking permission to see what was going on in a private event was unprofessional, but if I didn't come up with some cool click-grabbing story, Isabel was going to keep getting every ounce that she could out of my story with Corey.

"Ryan, we can't do this. I really have to stick to my strict morals, because if I don't, I might as well just write about Courtney when she specifically asked me to not write that story," I said. "Do you see what kind of precedent that sets for what kind of reporter I'm going to be? It leads me down I path I don't want to travel."

He nodded. "I understand. You may be uptight, but you're a better person than me."

"I'm not uptight."

He gave a half-smile, half-grimace. "Don't lie to yourself, Layla. But it's fine. We can always find something else, or you can just take the L and be able to sleep at night."

"Thank you."

Just as I was about to turn around, the thumping hard rock beat died out, and it was replaced with a new one that was just as intense.

Thunderstruck. "Is that AC/DC?" I said. "What kind of weird, loud cult activities are going on in there?"

"Right?" Ryan replied with wide eyes. "We gotta check it out."

I nodded. "We do."

In a banquet hall on a college campus on a weekday evening, nothing about the loud music made sense. We really had no choice but to at least check out what was going on just inside the doors.

"Can I help you?" a man asked at a table. He must have been checking names as people came into the hall.

"We're with the Badger Herald. Layla Gaudreau and Ryan Hoffman," I said.

He nodded for us to welcome ourselves inside, and as we walked past, the heavy music continued to get louder, and my curiosity grew with the noise.

"That was easy," I said to Ryan. "Almost too easy. You don't think someone's already here to report on whatever this event is, do you?"

"I feel like me and you generally know what's happening. I mean, you're pretty much going to be the next Isabel once she graduates."

"Well, that's what I want. Lots of things can change in a few months, though," I said as we came up to a dry erase board with Let's Go Badgers Football! written on it in red marker with little cheer pompoms drawn next to it. Cute.

"It's all for the football team. That makes much more sense," Ryan said.

Did it really though? "The season's not over yet. Why are they having a banquet now?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. Probably to relive the good times this season before we get absolutely demolished by Alabama."

While that semifinal game normally would have been our type of story to report (it was probably why the man let us in right away with no questions asked), I didn't even know if I wanted to go. The last one should have been a joyous occasion, but it was anything but. Why would I put myself through that again?

Because the show must go on, Layla. That's why.

I opened up the door to the main banquet room, and the beat of the music rang through my hand through the metal door handle.

At the front of the room, there was a screen playing some highlights from the season, from big hits to big passes, timely touchdowns to game-saving tackles. Of course, it was difficult for anyone on the offensive line to show up on such a reel except by chance, but that never bothered Corey. He preferred not having the attention on him. Well, except for that one time.

Ryan and I were both known well in the locker room since just about every starter had answered a few of our questions before, and I knew most of them by name and face as well. However, it seemed like every player had a date to this banquet, as the already crowded hall was filled with men and women.

"Well, do you want to just wait right here until something good happens?" Ryan asked. "That way, if anyone else is here, they won't catch you talking to Corey like earlier this week."

"Sounds good," I said, but I was already scanning the people to see who and what I could find that could be an article.

Corey was easy to spot in a crowd, but when that crowd was just as big as him, the task was a little more difficult. In the light of the video of the highs of the season thus far, I caught a glimpse of his face, and on either side of him was a girl, and one of them seemed to have his attention.

He said something, and she laughed. Why? He wasn't funny. The two of them stood up and walked in our direction at the back of the room. I ducked away behind the corner on the other side of the door before they could see me, and Ryan did the same. I wasn't sure if he knew why, but I appreciated the solidarity.

"Who the hell is that?" The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them, and if I knew Ryan, he was going to answer my rhetorical question.

"Maybe that's his sister," Ryan said.

"I know his sister. She doesn't look like—" I looked up and down her body. She obviously wasted too much time in the gym and the tanning salon. Gross. "She doesn't look like that."

"Layla, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

I interrupted him. "You don't have any reason to be sorry. That man didn't even get me a ring to propose to me in front of a stadium of people, and now he has some—" I trailed off before I could call her any names I would regret. She might not have been a slut whore skank bitch.

But she probably was.

"Can we go? I don't want to look at that slut whore skank bitch anymore," I said.

As we turned to go back without any inspiration for an article, that fact—and nothing more—sure stung a lot worse than it should have.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hello! Thank you so much for reading! If you catch any mistakes, please let me know. I'm in a rush right now and I didn't proofread it all that well, so I apologize for that. Thanks!

So for today's question, what is a song that gets stuck in your head a lot?

For me, it's Hotel California by The Eagles. I don't know how it got started, but for about three years now, it seems like it's always playing somewhere in my mind. But there are definitely worse songs to have this problem with out there.