The Institution

Chapter 5: Party on State Street

Luke Wellington is a junior running back on the football team. He lives in a house with four other guys on State Street which, according to Freya, is party central. It only took us ten minutes to walk there from the stadium, and by that time the celebration was already in full swing. As we wandered up the street I could feel the ground trembling beneath my feet from the sheer volume of the music. Students wearing blue and white were hanging off of the balcony and the front porch. They were all clutching bright red plastic cups.

Believe it or not, I've never been the "life of the party" type of guy- I think I mentioned the whole "reading textbooks for fun" aspect of my life before. At social gatherings I prefer to hide in secluded corners, it makes it easier for other people to pretend that I don't exist. My high school classmates were always more than happy to oblige with this notion, but convincing Rachel to follow suit was whole 'nother ball game.

"I still don't think this is a good idea for me to be here," I hollered to Rachel over the pounding bass of the rap song. "I don't even know these people."

"But you know Arthur!" she shouted back, before she grabbed my hand. She dragged me up the porch steps. The door was already open, so we walked inside.

It was a madhouse. It was dark, and there were flashing lights. Music pounded against my eardrums and drummed in rhythm with my heart. College students were everywhere; it was a blur, there were too many faces, it was too much to take in. I gripped Rachel's hand tighter for fear of losing her in the mob. I had to admit, I was feeling a little scared. There could be drugs here. Underage drinking. Someone might get pushed down the stairs and break their neck. The cops could come. I could be arrested!

The moment we stepped inside Freya was accosted by three other boys. She must have been friends with them because as soon as she saw them she shouted a greeting. She hugged two of them and the third shoved a red cup into her hand. She was shepherded away into the nearest room where everyone was dancing. My heart sank- I wanted to follow her, but Rachel was already steering me in another direction.

We ended up in a kitchen. It was just as packed in here as it was out on the porch. Empty beer cans were scattered across the floor and there was a table at one end that held almost every kind of alcoholic beverage you could possibly imagine. Red plastic cups littered the counter space and there were handfuls of crisps smashed into the linoleum from an upturned basket. They crunched beneath my feet as I followed Rachel to the table.

"What do you like to drink?" she asked me.

This is probably a good time to mention that I've never had an alcoholic beverage before. I didn't want to admit that though so I just I told her I wasn't thirsty. She ignored me and shoved a beer bottle into my hands.

"I shouldn't," I immediately tried to hand it back to her. "I'm underage."

"Half the people here are underage," she laughed.

"No, really, I don't think it's a good idea-"

"It'll be fine! Live a little, Ethan!" she exclaimed, as she took a swig from her own bottle.

I know what peer pressure is, but I experimentally took a sip anyway and choked. It burned on its pathway down to my empty stomach, which roiled unpleasantly. I hastily grabbed a handful of potato chips from a nearby basket and stuffed them into my mouth. I left the beer bottle on the kitchen counter.

Another girl came stumbling into the kitchen then, and Rachel shrieked and flung her arms around the girl's shoulders. The girl was clearly already drunk; she was swaying, her eyes were bloodshot and she could barely hold her head up.