"I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way." - Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Three

Aside from my original reasoning to go to the party, I agreed to come because I truly do thrive off of meeting new people. To me, there's nothing more boring than being cooped up all alone with no one new to talk to. Living with my grandmother in her retirement home was not the most ideal location, however I found a way to talk to people. Turns out, elderly people love getting to tell their stories. I think they just want someone to talk to, and I really loved sitting down for dinner with my grandmother's friends and getting to know them.

"Since I still don't have a car," Allen says as he grabs the keys from their little bowl next to the front door, "we have to take my moms. Don't worry, though. I'll be our DD, I don't need to drink tonight."

Before I let Allen know that I was going to come with him, I laid out a plan that made me feel comfortable going at all. The one thing that is important to me is that I drive, which of course means no drinking, but I doubt Allen will put up much of a fight. I assume that with high schoolers finding someone willing to be the designated driver is not easy.

"Actually, would you mind if I drive?"

With the front door already open, Allen pushes open the old storm door with a loud creak and holds it for me, sending me a confused look.

"You know you don't have to, right? I don't mind. I already told the others I could drive them home."

I stop when I reach the bottom of the porch steps, causing Allen to stop with me. The fall air whips around us, the light from the moon and stars illuminating the sky. It was a dark, cloudy sky the night of the crash. If there had been stars like this to light the night...

"Really, I'd prefer to drive," I say with a smile, holding my hands out for the keys.

Something in my expression must give away more than my words, because Allen stops arguing.

"Okay, but only because this isn't my car," he jokes. "I'm saving up for her and once I get my baby, no one is touching her aside from me."

They keys jangle in the air as I reach my hand out to grab them, sending him a wary look. "You've already personified your nonexistent car?"

"And named her."

I continue to stare at him, raising a brow.

"Sabrina."

I avoid rolling my eyes at him, unable to hold back my snort of laughter and we get into his mom's car.

"Well, at least it's not named after a Pokémon."

As Allen descends into the car, his legs uncomfortably smooshed in the small sedan, he glances at me with a sideways look.

"She is named after the gym leader in Saffron City."

"And yet you're popular," I mutter as I start the car.

Allen laughs, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Instead, he goes on his phone and I begin to back down the driveway and head to the party with his direction. Driving at night is always harder. It makes me wonder why they pave roads black. Why not white or yellow or something easier to spot when the sun isn't shining?

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear Allen clear his throat unnaturally and in what I assume is a way to get my attention.

"About the stuff you mentioned back at the house," he begins as my eyes dart between the dark road and him, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything..."

I wave him off with a reassuring smile, "No one made me uncomfortable. I just think we would all live a bit easier if we acted like the accident never happened."

"Does that go for people at school, too? You know, acting like the accident never happened?"

"Especially them. I don't want to become the girl with a tragic past."

Headlights in the other lane help illuminate the road while staying a safe distance away as I turn off of the main road and into another neighborhood that looks nearly identical to Allen's. More colonial-era houses, more hundred-year-old trees, and more darkly paved roads. At least each house is brightly lit; beautiful porch lights on nearly every house help the moon and stars to make the night less dreary.

"People are going to wonder why you moved here," Allen reasons. "What are we supposed to tell them?"

The car lurches along the road, getting closer to the house at the end of the road where the party must be in full swing already. The bass gets louder the closer we get, so much so that I can feel it rattling my bones even from the safety of the car.

As I park behind the last car in the row, I turn the key and send Allen a sly grin.

"Leave it vague. Doesn't everyone love a good mystery?"

With that, I begin getting out of the car, bracing my legs to lift me up from the low-to-the-ground seat with minimal wincing. Tonight, people get to meet me as Laura Laurier. Not as Allen's cousin that moved in with him after she became an orphan.

Allen doesn't put up any argument and we begin our walk down the road and to the house. My excitement begins to bubble to the surface as Allen gives me a quick rundown of his friends and girlfriend so that I'm not going in blindly. Once inside, I'm pleasantly surprised at how close this party is to everything the movies portray.

It's a packed house. People are wearing all sorts of different styles; some girls wore small dresses, others wore jeans and a t-shirt, and some are even dressed as though they're headed to the gym after downing a few shots. Everyone has a red cup in their hand, and if they don't, then they have a small clear cup with equally clear liquid that I know is not water.

The house reeks of spilled alcohol, cheap cologne, and stale weed. But even still, I take a deep breath to soak it all in. Anything beats being stuck at home with my thoughts, smelling the meatloaf that Aunt June burned to a crisp earlier this evening.

I follow Allen through the old, clearly never updated house. The floors are delicate hardwood and every time alcohol splashes down on them I have to fight away a flinch. The walls are hiding what I'm sure are countless stains in the retro, flower wallpaper that covers the from floor to ceiling, showing the separation with dark brown trim.

"Henry, a senior on the baseball team with me, lives here!" Allen calls out to me over his shoulder. "His parents are out of town on some mission trip for the week, so it worked out great!"

As we make our way through the entrance and weave into the living room off to the right, Allen is saying hi to nearly every person that we pass.

Who knew playing Pokémon and collecting coins could get you so many friends?

We stop in the middle of the living room next to the coffee table where one girl with incredibly long blonde hair stands awkwardly footed, dancing on top. I can't help but watch her, my brows pulling together in confusion at her movements. Most girls just sway or bob to the music, but she is flailing her arms out to the side, moving them whimsically and not at all to the rap music playing from the speakers in the corner.

"It looks like she's doing some sort of ritual?"

Allen grabs a Solo cup from a passing friend and laughs, "That's Quinn for you."

Then, without warning, he reaches up and grabs one of her arms to tug her down. Her eyes open and she snaps her head over to us, seemingly ready to yell until she sees that it's Allen gently holding her arm. Instantly, her scowl turns into a huge smile that brightens her narrow sapphire eyes and she jumps down from the table, stumbling a bit on her skirt that is so long it nearly touches the floor.

"Allen! I was in the middle of a very serious dance," she says, and I can't tell if she's joking or not until Allen laughs.

"That's what you call that? Whatever it was, it scared everyone away."

"Rude. Truly, Allen, just rude," Quinn says, crossing her arms though clearly not actually offended, and then her gaze shifts to me and her cheeks break out into a big smile.

"Oh, hi! I'm Quinn!"

Allen smiles, ruffling up my hair a bit as he introduces me. "Quinn, this is my little cousin: Laura!"

"I liked your dance!" I say, straining my voice to be heard above the music.

"Great! Let me teach you!" She grins, taking my hands and pulling me back up onto the table with her before I have the chance to even blink.

Allen easily steps up on the table with us, standing there as he surveys the crowd while Quinn holds surprisingly tightly onto my hands as she shows me the movements she was doing earlier. Instead of being weirded out by the situation, I'm instead enthralled by how sturdy this coffee table is to hold three of us.

"What's this dance called?" I ask.

"No clue! My uncle taught it to me after he got back from a fishing trip to Alaska!" She says with a carefree laugh. "It's great, right?"

"Have you seen Kendall?" Allen asks her, squinting as he looks around. He places a hand on my shoulder to support himself as he cranes his neck to try and look around the corner without falling down.

Then, within seconds, the table somehow doesn't fall apart when another person jumps on, pushing me closer to Quinn who finally lets go of my hands when she nearly falls and has to grab onto Allen to support herself.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

I hear a shrill voice shout aggressively from behind me, but the table is not nearly big enough for four bodies so I'm unable to spin around and see who it is.

"There you are!" Allen shouts, and from the corner of my eye I see his arm wrap around a petite body to pull it closer and give the rest of us more breathing room.

Finally, now that I'm not squished between someone shouting and Quinn, I am able to maneuver my body around to see a small girl pulled tightly against Allen's body. Her jet black hair is pulled into a high ponytail and her beautiful dark brown, rounded eyes are zeroed in on me. I recognize her to be Kendall and send her a huge smile, but my expression falters when she doesn't return it. No, she continues her heated glare that has me cowering backwards into Quinn.

"Kendall, this is my cousin! Laura!" Allen introduces.

Within seconds, Kendall's glare drops and turns into one of guilt as she catapults herself out of Allen's arms and into mine. If it wasn't for Quinn behind me, I would have stumbled off of the coffee table.

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you!" She rushes out, hugging me tightly.

"O-Oh! That's okay," I say, giving her a small pat on the back.

"I just saw some girl up here with Allen and you are absolutely beautiful so I got jealous and then stormed over here and forgot all about the fact he said his cousin was coming with him and-" she cuts herself off, pulling away so that she can look at me. "I am so sorry."

Her eyes look close to filling with tears and her breath smells like a bottle of Svedka, so I attribute her mood swings to the alcohol she's had and choose to laugh it off. It's clear to me that Kendall is a nice person, just a tad too drunk.

"It's okay! I'm not really into the whole incest thing, so nothing to worry about."

Quinn and Allen both nearly spit out their drinks and begin laughing, while Kendall squeezes my arms and pulls me back in for a hug.

"You are such a nice person," she says into the hug, her words slurring a small bit.

When the stench of weed and sweat got too strong, I found my way to the kitchen to try and find some water to drink. Instead, I found a small cooler filled with Kool-Aid that seemed like the better choice to keep my energy up with some sugar.

As I walk back to the others, my eyes are drawn to the front door. When we walked in it was simply the entrance, but now that the night is getting late it has turned into an exit for those that had a bit too much fun. What catches my eye is the attractive guy standing next to the door, seeming to check everyone's sobriety levels as they make their exit.

As someone goes to leave, stumbling over absolutely nothing but themselves, he pushes off of the wall and steps in front of the drunk fool. My eyes follow the movements of his arms as they cross his chest, making him seem even taller than his dark jeans and black shirt do.

The drunk classmate tries to plead his case, pulling his keys from his pocket with a thumbs up. But the tall, dark haired guard places his hand out. And with nothing but the narrowing of his eyes, he has the drunk kid deflating and giving up his keys to stand by the door as he waits for either a sober parent or sober friend to come to his rescue.

I tilt my head as I watch the drunk kid stand patiently by the door, not even trying to argue his way into leaving. As I move my gaze back to the new owner of the keys, my body stiffens when I lock eyes with him. Then, his calculating gaze drifts down to the cup in my hand as he leans back against the wall, taking his attention away from me to watch the rest of the crowd.

Shaking off the feel of his gaze, I continue my walk back to the others who are now dancing on the couch instead of the coffee table. When I reach them, I carefully step up onto the last cushion, ignoring the pain in my legs with my pants fabric brushes harshly against my scars.

"Do you guys have a bouncer... for people leaving?" I ask, glancing back by the front door.

Kendall nearly spits out her drink she finds my statement so funny, reaching over to squeeze my cheeks as she mutters about how cute I am.

"I guess you could call them that," Quinn says with her own laugh, "We have someone at every party stay by the door to make sure no one drives home drunk. It's like an unwritten rule: if they stop you, you give up your keys."

"We rotate who it is at every party! Last time it was Allen," Kendall says, then she scrunches her face, "Wait- who is it this week?"

Allen joins in the conversation, "Jesse."

"We love when it's Jesse's turn!" Kendall cheers, throwing her hand in the air so quickly that some of her drink spills out and gets all over the couch.

Allen just laughs and takes her cup away, placing it on the stand next to the couch as she profusely apologizes to no one in particular about spilling her drink.

"Having Jesse be the designated bouncer, as you said, is the only way we can get him to come out to these parties anymore," Allen explains.

I take a sip of my Kool-Aid and help Kendall try to clean up the mess of beer staining the white couch cushion. Since then, the party has felt more energized. I've been dancing with both Quinn and Kendall, jumping back up on the coffee table when Henry wasn't looking, and have even belted out the words to some songs that I definitely do not know.

Eventually, the exhaustion hits and we all decide it's time to call it a night. As we head to the front door, my mind doesn't feel as sharp as it should. I chalk it up to exhaustion and being stuck in a house filled with various teenagers smoking weed and plenty of vapes to fill the air.

When we approach the door my eyes stick to the guy from earlier, now able to match a name to his sharp, handsome features. Jesse. His head is lolled back, resting against the wall until we walk up when he pushes off to greet us. He's even taller up close.

"Hey man," Allen greets, the other girls slightly slurring their greetings as well.

"Who's driving you guys home tonight?"

His voice comes out raspy, but not scratchy, and with plenty of authority to have me straightening up.

Allen steps out of the way and gestures to me, "That would be my baby cousin, Laura."

Jesse's gaze lands on me. I'm slightly stunned; no wonder I couldn't make out the color of his eyes from across the room earlier. It's either muted by the hazy air or he truly has steely gray eyes. Within seconds of looking at me, those steely eyes narrow and he looks back at Allen.

"I'm serious. Who's actually driving you home?"

"He just said who. I'm the designated driver tonight," I speak up.

Jesse turns fully towards me now, his dark brown hair looking fluffy yet slightly disheveled as it rests just barely too long atop his head.

"Do you even know what a designated driver is?"

The crude tone of his voice destroys all thoughts of attraction.

"Excuse me?"

"Designated Driver: noun. A member of a group who abstains from drinking-" Quinn begins from behind us, her eyes half closed and words coming out in a jumbled mess.

"I know what it is, thank you Quinn," I say, giving her a quick smile.

"I don't think you do if you're standing here telling me you're about to drive," Jesse says, his tone seeping judgment.

Then he uncrosses his arms and places his hand out, just like I saw him do earlier in the night.

"Can I help you?" I ask, staring down at his outstretched palm.

"Keys."

"No?"

His eyes narrow again and jaw clicks, "I don't know who you think you are, but the way things work around here is we don't drive when we've had something to drink at a party."

"I'm Laura Laurier" I say, for some odd reason thinking it was the perfect comeback. "And I haven't been drinking."

"Wait! That's your full name? That's so cute and rhyme-y," Kendall gushes from behind us.

Jesse rolls his eyes and next thing I know, my keys are taken from my hand. "Well Laura Laurier, you aren't driving tonight."

Something about the way my name rolls out of his mouth makes my blood boil, so I snatch them back.

"You have no right to take my keys. I told you I haven't been drinking!"

"Are you kidding me?" Jesse scoffs, "I saw you down two cups earlier."

"Yeah, of juice!" I argue.

"Are you that ignorant?"

"Uh- Laura?" I hear from behind me.

I move my head just enough to see Allen, Quinn, and Kendall snickering loudly in a horrible attempt to keep their laughter at bay.

"What juice?" Kendall asks between her fit of giggles.

"The juice from the cooler in the fridge," I say, eyeing them cautiously. "It was fruit-punch Kool-Aid..."

That causes their laughter to get even louder and I cross my arms over my chest, pouting at them. "What?"

"That's juice alright," Allen agrees.

"Jungle Juice!" Quinn bursts out, her laughter so hard that she begins to snort. "Laura, you're drunk!"

My heart drops into my stomach and my face pales at the realization. No wonder I've been so bold and energized the past hour. I also skipped dinner, so even just one cup full would have made me tipsy.

I close my eyes tight to avoid cringing at myself, trying to prolong turning around to face Jesse to avoid those steel eyes filled with judgment. Slowly, I turn back to face him, wiping my expression free of any embarrassment. He doesn't look nearly as amused as the others. His lips are in a stiff, straight line with no inclination of flinching in even a hint of a laugh. He doesn't say anything. Just places his hand back out for my keys.

I cross my arms in defiance, lifting my chin to help me appear taller.

"If you can't even recognize that juice in a cooler at a party has alcohol, you shouldn't offer to be the designated driver. Or even come in the first place," he says, "now give me the keys."

The alcohol in my system causes me to be more defensive than usual and I cross my arms. "Why do you have to take my keys? I'm obviously not going to drive, but Allen and I need these to get inside his house."

Jesse rolls his eyes, "Since none of you are sober, I'm driving you home."