All Of Me

1

I didn't really want to be there, but Tripp talked me into it. "It's the last party of high school, you gotta go, Brookie." He pleaded outside my house.

Tripp was popular, but he wasn't like that crowd. He was the only person that talked to me my freshman year after moving to Georgia from Texas. And as a senior, he was still my only friend; my best friend. Girls didn't like me, and I wasn't the most attractive girl. I had medium long wavy blond hair, and I was thin. I was quiet. I was average.

Tripp wasn't. He was tall, muscular, and had thick dark hair.

Everyone loved him, and he was nice to everyone. Not often could a person mingle with popularity and the norms and still be accepted by both. But he did it with ease. He entered the room and everyone seemed to light up.

I just lingered behind, not really wanting spotlight. Tripp moseyed over to Josh and his group, the other players on the football team, and Chelsea, Josh's sister, kept a close eye on Tripp from across the lawn. I rolled my eyes a little and stood at Tripp's side. Josh didn't acknowledge me, but a couple of his friends gave short waves, probably recognizing me from school, or just from usually being with Tripp.

You'd think that would get me some brownie points.

I felt a tap on my arm and turned to see Chelsea Smith. She wore a soft pink chiffon dress that rested above her knees, and her hair lay in soft blonde curls around her shoulders. Blue eyes searched mine for...something. She smiled. "Hey, Brooke." She looked me up and down. Boots, old jeans, and a plaid button-up was probably something she wouldn't be caught dead wearing.

I smiled at her though, and she grabbed my hand. "Come hang with us. Tripp won't go anywhere." She rolled her eyes a little and led me off to where her friends sat by the in-ground pool.

The music seemed to be getting louder in the back yard around the pool and garage. Chelsea sat down and leaned back into a beach chair, and her friends, Kim Wong, and Sarah Holloway, also sat in like chairs.

They smiled at me and I eased onto the side of a small white chair beside them. They were all beautiful. I suddenly felt awkward; even more awkward than usual.

Kim spoke, "So are you two dating?" Referring to Tripp and I, I assumed. I glanced his way, and shook my head. "No, just friends." Darn my Texas drawl. Kim just nodded, not looking like she bought it. People always assumed we were dating just because we were together a lot.

"You don't have any feelings at all?" The average sized ginger spoke from the other side of Kim. Before I could answer, Chelsea shh'd them both. "Don't be rude." She reached into the cooler beside her and handed me a beer. I shook my head, "I don't usually drink." But she shoved it at me.

"It's the last party of high school. Come on." I thought for a second before I took it. Those words kept getting me to do things I didn't want to do. But I took it anyway.

I kept an eye on Tripp, and still managed to somehow communicate with these girls as they talked about shopping and boys. I wasn't really into dating, or shopping. Maybe if Tripp or I were to date someone, the rumors would stop.

They handed me another beer; and then another. In just a few minutes, I had six beers, and something in a red cup that smelt awful. I started to feel woozy and stood to go find Tripp. But my legs were weak and my head hurt. Some people yelled as I lost my balance and fell into the pool.

I was terrified, I couldn't swim, and I couldn't get enough control of myself to try. Suddenly, I heard another splash, and felt arms around me. I was out of the water and being carried to the garage.

"Are you okay?" My vision half focused in on Tripp who was knelt in front of me. Some people stood around me laughing, and I nodded. "She can use my room to sleep it off if she wants." I heard Chelsea say.

Tripp snatched the towel from her and sternly said, "She doesn't drink, how many did she have over there?" She mumbled something as Tripp picked me up and carried me into the house.

Something was a little different about him as well. Not walking as sure and steady as usual, his eyes looked glassy, but that could've just been me in my drunk state. He carried me into a dimply lit room, painted purple from what I could tell, and cleaned to a T.

He laid me down on a soft bed and ran the towel over my hair and clothes. "You okay?" He asked softly. I nodded and that's the last thing I remember before I succomed to blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up the next day in bed, in my house, and completely confused. My head was pounding even worse than the night before, and I wobbled a little when I tried to stand.

I stumbled to the light switch and flicked my light on. The light seemed so much brighter than usual, and made my head pound even harder. My clock said 7am, and I had to get ready for school. I got ready, in sweats and a tshirt, used make up to cover up the black bags under my eyes, and walked out of my room, closing the door behind me.

My mom was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. I stopped in my tracks halfway down the stairs when I saw her. "Brooklyn, would you like to explain why Tripp brought you home this morning, hung over and staggering to your bedroom?" I could tell by her voice she was trying to remain calm.

My father was killed when I was 15. He was drunk and drove into another driver head-on. They were both killed. Which is mostly why I never drank, I hate that I let peer pressure get the best of me.

Especially girls I didn't even really know, and had never really liked me. And it was all a blur anyway.

"Mom, I- I'm sorry." I stuttered. She put a hand on her forehead and crossed her other arm over her slender body. She looked like me, only older. "Brooke, you know it was wrong. Please, please. Don't drink. You were lucky to have Tripp. Who knows what would've happened. At a party with all those boys you didn't know?" Her sentence stopped, leaving the rest to my imagination.

I finished my trot down the stairs and embraced my mother. "I'm sorry. And I promise it won't happen again. I was just an idiot last night." I released her and she squeezed my shoulders, nodding. "Go to school before you're late." And with that I walked past her, out the door, and saw my sister Paige, already standing at the end of the road.

She was two years younger, and eons prettier. If our mother knew of half the things Paige does, my hangover would be the least of her problems. Hopefully the last three weeks of school would go by fast.