Dear Spartyers,

           Welcome back to the castle for the final push. There’s nothing better than a week of 12oz curls in warmer climates to give you a taste of summer. But with spring break in the books as just another blurred memory it’s time for me to come out from hiding behind my computer.

           My name is Molly DeMellier. I’m a sophomore journalism student, party regular, and your Spartan Spy. I’ve been exposing you all year, but in my two years at Castleton I’ve caused my fair share of mayhem as well.

           I have ended many nights running from Castleton’s overwhelming police force. My inebriated stumbles have ruined countless shoes, been the source of reoccurring bruises, and the cause of my shattered iPhone screen. I’ll even admit to being the girl to take intoxicated tumbles out of chairs in Huden.

          There have been many times when I have missed my opportunity to run and have had to find ways to keep myself from getting a ticket. From the woods to back bedrooms and closets I feel like I’ve hidden almost every place imaginable.  There was even a time I was caught giggling while trying to hide in a shower by an of-age Spartyer trying to relieve himself.

         As one to never deny a drinking challenge, I once won a game of shot for shot only to come out of my blackout eating chocolate chip pancakes the next morning with my parents in Birdseye Diner. From what I can recall of that not-so-sober breakfast with Mom and Dad, it still shocks me that they weren’t even upset until I told them they should be proud they raised such a champion.

       It was about that same time I began referring to my blackouts as time travelling because it seemed less degrading to say so often.

        In my other extra-curricular activities I’ve gotten myself into prank wars that tended to escalate rather quickly. I tested out my marketing and advertising skills by making fake flyers selling my friend’s car. I considered the ad a success until it was retaliated by slipping the world’s hottest chili pepper into my drink. I’ll spare you the details and say my stomach didn’t respond well to anything for days.

       My nights as the Spartan Spy may have come to an end but my tendency to walk on the wild side won’t ever fade. Between my drunken mayhem and sober mischief I’ve made memories here with some of the most incredible people I have ever known. I have come to find that even what starts as the quietest of nights always has a story to be told when morning comes around.