Party’s Over



I sat at the kitchen table looking down at my food. I was hungry, but I could not force myself to eat one bite of the scrambled eggs or toast my mom had prepared. My head throbbed with a dull, annoying pain. I knew the cause of this headache and knew better than to mention the pain to my mom. She sat pleasantly in the sunshine across the table from me. She nibbled away at her eggs until the phone started to ring. She pushed her chair back and meandered over to answer the phone. I stared at her with fear and anxiety. She answered the phone, and her facial expression changed in an instant. Her face filled with anger and turned as red as raging fire. She screamed, “ Gregory Reed.” I knew I was caught.

Friday nights were always the same. I would return home after wrestling practice and head right to bed. It was my senior year of high school wrestling, and my path to the state tournament was promising. I cut 24 pounds to reach my desired weight class, so I was always fatigued. However, last night was a similar to nothing I had ever experienced. It was the final day of school before Christmas break, and I received a two-week break from wrestling. I decided to attend the party my friends were dying to host. I figured we would just hang out, play some video games, and throw around the old pigskin. I was utterly and completely wrong.

After practice, I showered and dressed for the party. I wore my favorite blue and white V-neck with faded blue jeans, and I put a little extra splash of Old Spice cologne. I was trying to catch the eye of my longtime crush, Rachel. I scurried out to my Jeep and drove to my friend Jim’s house. Excitement ran through my veins. This was the first time in weeks I had done something wild and invigorating. I arrived at Jim’s, walked to the old oak door, and knocked three times. I heard scampering coming from inside, and Jim answered the door. “Hey Greg, come on in. We’ve been waiting,” Jim welcomed.

I entered and followed him into the living room. My good friend and other members of the basketball team lay sprawled out across the floor and furniture. They all gave me vigorous a greeting. The girls, including Rachel, chatted in the kitchen. I took my spot on the dark leather couch next to Sam. He offered me a Mountain Dew, but I had to refuse due to my wrestling diet. I looked around to scout out who was all attending this party. I saw all my friends except Travis. “Where in the world is Travis at?” I questioned. “ I thought he would be here.”

“Oh, he will be here any second. He had an errand to run,” Sam mentioned.

In that moment, Travis stomped into the room. He was carrying one large black and red backpack. I could tell by the formation of the bag it was completely stuffed with round and square containers. Travis had a large grin on his face. It was the type of grin one gets when pulling off a mischievous scheme. I guessed what was in the bag, and uneasy feelings began to creep into my stomach. “Travis, did you get it?” Jim piped in.

“Yeah, I got it. My parents will have no clue,” Travis answered.

Travis went to the center of the room, directly in front of the television. He dropped the bag and knelt down beside it. Everybody, including Rachel, surrounded him while he slowly opened the largest pocket of the backpack. A gasp escaped from every person in the room. I counted six bottles of hard liquor inside the tattered red and black bag.

I was not sure how to respond. At first, I thought it was a joke. Maybe it was fake, non-alcoholic juice. When I took a closer look, I noticed the unique packing of liquor bottles and knew it was not a joke. I got nervous not know what to do. I was desperately digging through my memory, trying to remember the classes we had in school about this type of situation. Teachers always gave examples, and we went through all sorts of role-playing situations. Nothing I had learned seemed to be assisting me at that moment. I was being sucked into a black hole and did not know how to get out.

Travis, Jim, and Sam traveled to the kitchen, returned with a handful of plastic cups, and opened the first bottle of Scotch. I sat back down on the couch. I was hoping to sit in the background and stay out of drinking. Underage drinking was illegal and against my school’s athletic code. Most importantly, my mom would kill me! Rachel noticed me retreating to the couch. She gracefully stood up and pranced over to me. She looked quizzically at me, as if she had just been asked a brainteaser. “Greg, aren’t you going to have any?” she asked.

“No, I do not think I should. You know I have to keep my weight under control,” I replied, trying not to diminish my manliness.

“Oh come on, it is not that bad. You have two weeks to cut back down. Just have one drink. It will make you feel better,” Rachel insisted.

I could not reject. I would appear as a wimp if I refused a drink. Plus, a drink or two might help me loosen up and be more relaxed and confident around Rachel. I gave in, saying, “Alright, give me one.”

I felt the alcohol burn down my throat. The smell was nauseating, but I kept drinking. Everyone around me was cheering and egging me on. It felt incredible. The amount of adrenaline pumping through my body equaled bungee jumping off the Empire State Building. I craved more of the feeling. I hammered down drink after drink, until I became dizzy and obtained a gut retching feeling. Rachel and I went outside to get some fresh air. Sitting on the porch swing with the icy, wintery breeze blowing through Rachel’s beautiful blonde hair was the last thing I remembered.

“Gregory Reed,” my mom screamed. “Living room, now!” My mom did not need to say anything. I knew what the phone call meant. She ranted anyway.

“You know who just called?” she screamed. I was too afraid and embarrassed to speak. She continued, “That was Travis Olson’s parents. Their liquor cabinet was raided, and they caught Travis coming home drunk this morning. There is no sense lying to me because I already know the answer. Last night at the party, did you drink?” she demanded.

I had no choice. I could still smell the alcohol on my breath. I could feel my life crumbling from under my feet. My future was over, and tears started to form in my eyes. I eventually whispered, “Yes Mom, I did.” I spoke quickly hoping my mom wouldn’t understand. I tried to relieve some quilt by adding, “I know it was wrong, and I do not know why I did it.”

“Well I hope you had fun. It will be the last time you are allowed to have any. I am going to tell the authorities, along with the school. I know how much you were hoping on going to state this year, but you kissed that boat goodbye last night. If you think you are leaving this house for any reason besides school and work, you are wrong. Now, you are to sit here while I get this taken care of.”

Rivers of salt-water ran down my cheek. I pictured the moment I agreed to take my first drink, and wished I could take the moment back. I knew wrestling was over, my chances with Rachel were shot, and my mom would never trust me again. No amount of excitement could ever make up for this pain. I knew my party