It was in March, nine months after I turned 16. Three months after Kyle stopped wanting to see me. Still an open wound, but slowly started to get better. Honestly, after everything, I was thrilled when Alexa asked me to go to a party. I wanted to try to move on and I was ready to meet someone new, maybe someone closer to my age.
Already dark out, the trees zipped past us like mangled limbs twisting into the night sky. The Durango’s tires crunch over the freshly graveled back road. The air crisp and cold, still riding on the coattails of winter. Barely warm enough for us to be out that night, probably a sign we never should have been.
After picking up Alexa, I drove us to the huge party at her sister's boyfriend's house. She reached into the back seat and handed me a wine cooler. Cracking it open, I chugged half way down. The carbonation tickled the back of my throat and deep into my stomach. Alexa picked up her Grape Pucker bottle off the floor. We passed it back and forth, each taking shots on the way there.
“I’m so pumped to be out of the house,” I said, practically bouncing in my seat. “Are you sure your sister’s boyfriend isn’t going to mind that we stay the night in his RV? I just don’t want to drive home and crash a car my parents just bought me.”
I’m already anxious about staying in a place I didn’t know. She shook her head at me and coughed from the liquor burning her throat.
“Hell no, Bryan is super cool with it. If Bethany ends up coming, she can stay there too, but I doubt she will,” Alexa made a face at her statement. I gave her a pointed look.
“You know she doesn’t like to drink that much, and could you imagine her at this party? She’d be super uncomfortable.” I laughed out loud imagining Bethany’s smallish figure looking lost in a huge crowd.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. Turn down this road. It’s the third house on the left,” she said, pointing in the direction for me to turn. When we turned down his road she sat up straight in her seat. “Holy shit balls that’s a lot of cars.”