AKA... The Bad Girl

Can I go Pee Yet?

© Copyright 2013 AddieMaria Addie Maria

All Rights Reserved

_________________________________________________________

"Drink! Drink! Drink!" They chant as I chug down my fourth beer. I can feel the fizzy liquid roll down my throat.

I take one last gulp and slam the bottle on the table. I won.

Sam Worthington; who challenged me to this drinking contest barely even finished his third.

Worhington was a funny name.

He sets his beer down and smirks at me. He probably just challenged me to get me drunk so he can get in my pants.

I make my way up to him and get very close. I can even smell his axe that he genourously put on.

He leans down to kiss me, I pass and whisper in his ear, "Baby, if you wanted me should've just asked." I step away and look at his face; priceless.

I smirk. Then I turn around and walk out of the kitchen using the walls and other drunken people to get myself steady. Four beers can do a lot when you chug them down in two minutes. I go towards the dance floor.

I start dancing with any guy who comes up to me. I'm not a slut; I don't sleep with just any guy. Okay maybe I was a bit of one. But to be honest I was just more of a big flirt. As the bass drops in the song I put my hands up and dance with all of the other sweaty drunken teens.

Until I hear the sirens... Who the hell called the cops?! It isn't my first time being at a party that cops came, but this was where I was going to stay tonight. Why me?

I run towards the back door trying to make sure my drunk self doesn't fall over. The cops couldn't have come before I drank all of that beer?

'Well that's life Andrea.' I tell myself.

I try to push past all of the screaming teenagers. Many of them running around like crazy trying to find a way out. Which makes the screams even louder and my thoughts blurrier.

As I try to crawl under a pack of teens trying to open up a window I know that way more than just a couple of cop cars are here.

I guess that's what you get when you live in a rich neighborhood.

Once I get out of that crowd I stand up and run towards the back door that is only a few feet away.

Then I trip on a shot glass. Fuck.

I try to get up but those four bottles of beer are holding me down. Everything just gets more spiny and I now the alcohol is fully kicking in. I can't focus. I hear footsteps and screaming.

It takes a while to realize that I'm the one screaming.

When I finally get my thoughts back it's too late. Two cops have already cuffed my hands and I'm in a cop car.

Oh life.

Next thing I know I'm in a police station sitting in a small cell waiting for my 'parents' to pick me up. I say 'parents' because there my foster parents. We aren't exactly close.

My 'mom' Samantha, is a biotch. She's very uptight and likes to buy herself many nice things. She's only doing foster care for the money. Like most.

My 'dad' Burt is actually a pretty cool guy, when he isn't drunk off his ass. He lets me drink whenever I want. So I consider him one of my favorite 'dads'. And he never abused me so there's another plus. But basically like his wife, he's doing this for the money.

I don't mind though, it's not my first foster home where my 'parents' couldn't give a shit about me. My real parents didn't care about me either.

The cell I'm sitting in has one long bench in it where about five of us teenagers at the party sit. I'm guessing there's more in other cells.