Something that I broke...

            In high school, I would not describe myself as popular or even remotely close to that kind of status. In all honesty, I could have cared less. I had my close best friends and they were all I needed to be happy. In my high school, your status was determined by if your parents were both rich enough and neglectful enough to let you throw huge parties at your house. These parties consisted of a bunch of dumb teenagers unable to control or handle even a sip of alcohol. I was way too busy to go to any of these being a three-sport varsity athlete with four AP classes. Also my parents were extremely strict. For the most part, I did not have any interest either because my friends and I saw the facade behind these parties and were much more content with going to concerts downtown and eating tater-tots and our favorite restaurant on a Saturday night. However, junior year, one of my really close friends threw one of these parties and instantly became the most popular kid in class. With that popularity, he pretty much cut the rest of us out of his life and stopped talking to us. As hurt as I was about the whole event, I became curious as to what was so great about these parties and began to think that maybe I was missing out on something.

            During my junior year, my brother transferred to a boarding school in Idaho. My parents went to go visit him often, which left me home alone on many weekends. I really enjoyed this time alone in my house because I got to make my own dinner and blare music throughout my whole house. One weekend, my friend Jackie pointed out that I was missing out on an extremely obvious opportunity. I needed to throw a house party. My curiosity around these parties kicked into full gear as we planned for an epic party at my house when my parents were in Idaho. We invited all of my friends, all of the “cool” people at my school, and pretty much everyone who went to the public school in my neighborhood. Everyone was so excited for the party and I started to see the fun behind it. We planned a whole excuse as to why Jackie had to spend the night at my house, so neither of our parents were suspicious. The plan was quite flawless. We bought snacks, planned on taking people’s keys at the door (we were responsible people), and had one of my wealthy older neighbors bringing an appropriate amount of alcohol. Finally, I could be like my friend who had moved up on the social ladder. Around thirty minutes before the party, I received a call from my dad. I answered just expecting it to be him checking in, but immediately he said “you about ready for the party you are going to throw in thirty minutes?” I froze inside and immediately knew the trouble I was going to be in. Apparently my friend Savannah did not realize this party was a secret so she told her mom. Her mom texted my mom asking if Savannah could bring any food for the overnight party. My dad had already called Jackie’s parents and they were on the way to come get us and lock up our house so no one could get inside. I had to text everyone that could possibly have been invited that it was over. Turns out about thirty people still showed up to my dead and dark house. I broke my parents trust that weekend and even though that was a terrible thing to experience, going to school the next Monday and being known as the girl who “tried to throw a party, but failed miserably” was also a real bummer. A few weeks later I even went to one of these infamous parties and it ended up being one of my most boring nights of high school. It took me breaking my parents trust and embarrassing myself to realize who I was. I am a girl who does not need alcohol to make friends and memories. Savannah, who spoiled my party, turned out to be one of my closest friends still to this day. We laugh about that night and I thank her every time for telling her mom because honestly my house would have been trashed. We both realized that our friendship is more important than putting out a fake image. Sometimes breaking thinks can be good.