This isn't Happening!

Unwanted Party

Katrina's POV :

"No, I'm serious. I don't want to go!" I've had my fair share of parties in the last week and a half. "Please. Just this last time. After this, I swear, no more parties." He tries to persuade me. It wasn't happening. He always convinced me to do bad things. It was like he was controlling me and my life. I felt my dignity shrinking as I was giving into his words. "Okay! Whatever. Let's go.. Hurry, before I change my mind." I huff. I don't know if it's because I'm head over heals in love with him, or I just want to get away from my bratty step-sister. I grab my fairly large coat out of the coat closet by the front door, and snatched my keys off the slightly rusted metal hook as we head out of the door. "We're taking your car ?" Brent asks. He clearly doesn't want to take my car. "It's just a regular old Toyota. What's wrong with it ?" I ask, defensively. "It doesn't look good on this image that I'm trying to keep." He remarks. "Oh. And what kind of 'image' would that be ?" I asked, saracastly quoting the word, image. "Well I mean, I'm going through different stages, but this one is a mix between 'bad boy' and 'college prep'." He says, more meaningful then it should have been. "What do you suggest we drive then?" I ask, impolitely. "You're right. Whatever. Let's just go." He scoffs.

****

"Take a right here." Brent says. I follow his directions to the over-sized mansion in a rich, snooty neighborhood, just off of the expressway. It takes us nearly 15 minutes to find a parking space. What's up with seniors and their need to throw full-out parties every other weekend? We get out of the, "red piece of junk" Brent calls it, and walk quickly up to the oversized glass door. I suggest on knocking but Brent just opens the door, inviting us in himself. He finds one of his many friends and disappears. He always does this. That, or ends up getting wasted, which is beyond my approval and he knows it. I start out to find Chelsea, my closest friend since about fifth grade. She lives in this neighborhood, so I know that she's got to be here somewhere. I step over discarded beer cans and bottles as I make my way to the kitchen. I finally spot her near the back sliding door, with a cleanly shaved guy, near his mid 20's maybe. She is indeed a gravedigger. She's been that way since sophomore year. I'm not absolutely agreeing with it, but she's old enough to make her own decisions right ? A walk right up to them and she starts to introduce me. "Oh hey. This is my-" "I'm her best friend, Katrina. And you are ?" "My name is Derick." He says, reaching out his hand for me to shake. I gently shake his hand. You can feel the awkward tension rising in the air as everyone stands there in the chatter of the rest of the partygoers. "Well, I'm gonna get me and drink and find Brent. It was great to meet you." I say, offering him a small smile. "You too." He calls as I'm making my way to the table of alcoholic beverages. 'Text me when you make it home!" Chelsea calls out to me. I know I'm underage but my dad used to let me take sips of his beer when he was drunk. Ever since, I have an occasional drink here and there. I decide on some Smirnoff with a dash of sprite. It's the first drink that I've ever tried, thanks to Brent, and I haven't completely hated it. I chug the whole thing before realizing what I'm doing. I'll admit, I'm a crazy drunk. One drink is plenty for me. I push through the crowds, in search of Brent or one of his friends. I finally spot him sitting on one of the couches in the lounging area, eagerly watching an intense game of beer pong. I don't have enough coordination for that terrible game, courtesy of my mother. I can feel a small headache coming on, most likely from the loud heavy metal music playing throughout the gigantic house. I finally make it to the couch and plop down on the cushion next to him. "Oh, hey. I was going to come find you and tell you that we're going to leave soon." Brent says slowly. You can tell he's had a few drinks himself. Well, darn it, I was hoping he would drive us home, but I see that's not going to happen.