You look around, and see you are in a living room full of people. You see your best friend, Maya, talking to your friend, Jillian. They look over and see you.
"Hey, Kim, you made it! Awesome." Maya says.
"I guess I must've passed out or something. I don't remember getting here." you say. You look down at you watch. It's 9:00 pm, on Friday night.
"Yeah, Nick drove you over. I guess you fell asleep on the way." Jillian says.
Oh, yeah, I remember that. "You say." So, you, Maya, and Jillian talk to each other.
"So, where's Nick?" you ask, wondering the whereabouts of your older brother. He was a junior, 17 years old. This was his friend Xander's party.
"I don't know, probably playing basketball outside with a few of the guys. Want a drink?" Jill asks, holding out a plastic cup. It is small, and is filled about halfway.
"Is this beer?" you ask, a bit alarmed.
"Calm down, K. It's good." Maya says. You look at the cup in your friend's hand.
"No, I'd get in so much trouble." you say.
"Oh, come on, Kim. You're in high school." Jill says. A couple other friends join you three. They are all pressuring you to drink the shot.
"No, I'm good." you say. You give into the peer pressure after a couple more minutes. You reluctantly take the shot. Then, your friends drop their cups. You look up to see Nick.
"Kim? You're drinking beer?" he asks.
"Nick, I swear, it's-" you start, as your brother grabs your wrist. He is easily 26 inches taller, and a whole lot stronger. He takes you out to his truck by the wrist. You try fighting your brother the whole way, but it's useless. He opens the passenger side door, and lifts you onto the seat. He buckles you in, and shuts the door. He gets to his side, and gets in.
"Kim, I'm telling mom what happened." he says, as he pulls out of the driveway. "No, please don't tell mom, she'll kill me. It was one shot." you say, crying.
"I'm telling her, Kim." he says. You scream, and sob, pleading with your big brother.
"Fine. I won't tell mom." he says. You burst into thanks.
"If you do something for me." he says.
You look up at him. "What?" you ask, voice shaking.
"You know that sleepover coming up?" he asks. You were having a sleepover at Jill's house the next weekend.
"Yeah." you reply.
"You have to dress like a baby." he says. Your jaw drops.
"Nick, you can't be serious." you say.
"I am." he says. You sigh. Either Nick tells your mom that you had some beer, or dress like a baby at one of your best friend's parties.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author