Chapter One

When I was fifteen I was at a party and got drunk.

I remember that night clearly or—at least—the events leading up to it. It was the last day of school. We were finally free, at least until September. And there was always something exciting about summer vacation—two months free from math and reading. Everyone was talking about the big party that was going down at Harding Miller's house later that night. "It's going to be huge!" Someone called out, as they thrust out brightly colored flyer's in every direction, rushing past to make sure that everyone got one, including me. I stared down at the blue flyer in my hand and wondered what it would be like to go to a real high school party. This had been my first year, but I had yet to do anything crazy or wild like that. Maybe it came from an overdose of teen movies, but I really believed that I was missing out on something amazing. As soon as I ran into my best friend Casey McKay, I proudly displayed the flyer for her to see. Like me, Casey had yet to go to a party.

"We should go." Smiling, I held the flyer up for her to read. The words BOOZE AND BABES were displayed proudly. Obviously, we were not the target audience, but I knew it could still be fun.

Casey was quick to snatch the flyer from my hand, and give me one of her famous disapproving looks. "Oh Bailey," she protested loud enough that a couple girls glanced over, "no." Casey had been my best friend for years. We had become best friends because we were the only kids on the street at the time. It also helped that our parents had been good friends since before we were born. It was like we were destined to become friends. "You can't seriously think about going. It's a drinking party." It was her typical negative tone. Casey was a good girl and she didn't go to high school parties. She looked down on those who drank beer and stayed out all night. I should have known she wouldn't throw on a sexy outfit and celebrate the end of school. For her, tonight was going to be a typical Friday night: teen movies, popcorn, and falling asleep by midnight. While I had been fine with that before, now it just seemed boring.

"Come on Case," I coached, hoping that she would crack. A night out of the house would be fun. "We should. We don't have to drink." Grabbing the paper out of her hands, making sure it didn't rip, I held it up towards her. Silly gesture, but maybe it would work. For some reason, I would have tried anything to do something different for once. "It says nothing there about having to drink."

Casey shot me a warning look, "I'm. Not. Going." With a flip of her short brown hair, she let out a loud and tired sigh. Trying to convince her was pointless, and she was trying to tell me that. Casey was stubborn, and she was holding her ground. There would be no fun tonight. It was then I realized then how different the two of us really were. Most of our lives, I thought that we were exactly the same, and that was why we were friends. Standing there, realizing how much I wanted to break with convention, I felt nothing like her. What could have been wrong with a night of music and people we never talked to? Politely, I smiled in her direction. "We should just watch a movie or something." She offered.

"Yeah, maybe," As much as I didn't want to ditch her, I didn't want to do that for the millionth time. We were teenagers now, high school students. There should have been some excitement in our lives. "I should really get going, I don't want to be late." There was distance between the two of us now, even bigger than the physical distance. Casey gave me a smile, not noticing it. And then I was gone, making my way through the rest of our classmates. I'm sure most of them didn't feel held back by their friends. They got to have fun.

Slipping past my parents after school, I ran immediately upstairs to my bedroom. It had been my fifteenth birthday present. I still remembered the day I walked up into the attic—mom had sent me there to look for something—and there was a bow on the door. A present for me, my own little apartment, separated from the rest of the house. Standing there, in the middle of chaos, I glanced at the reflection looking back and questioned what to wear. With hands shaking from excitement, I examined the options. I didn't want to look like myself. Rather than being Bailey Addison—good girl—I wanted to be seen as someone new, different. Sexy.

"Bailey."

Rushing out of my bedroom, I stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. Mom was standing at the bottom, her hand covering the end of the phone. "What?" She had flour on her apron from cooking, and I wondered what we were having for supper. Truth was, though, I was so excited I wasn't sure I would be able to eat anything. This was going to be the first real adventure of my teenage life. Skipping down to the end of the stairs, I grabbed the phone from her hands and gave her a smile.

"It's Casey." Mom said as she tuned to walk back into the kitchen. Turning my own body I lowered my voice. My hope was that Casey would forget to call, or forget that I was supposed to call. I guess it was time for me to come up with a good excuse. Finally I would get to use my freshman drama skills.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, and then: "You never called me, about tonight." Letting out a loud sigh, I wondered why she had to sound dramatic all the time. Everything was so important, so vital, and when something was bad it was just too bad. Sometimes, the way she acted, it was almost like it was a burden being friends with me. I always had at least one flaw that bothered her. I didn't call, or I wanted to go out. There was always something that I did wrong. "I thought we could rent She's all that. It's been a while since we watched it." Suddenly, I felt the guilt rising up. It would have been so easy for her to just come to the party. "Bailey?"

"Hi." My voice was loud, shrill almost, and I rushed through the words quickly. "I can't."

Casey paused again. Suddenly I felt worried that she knew I was lying, "What do you mean you can't?" Now she sounded angry, very angry. Casey hated when people stood her up, or broke plans. Whenever it happened there would be a dramatic sigh and for weeks she wouldn't let it go. Even knowing I would hear up this for a while couldn't stop me. I didn't want to be a bad friend, but I needed a night out. "Bailey." She repeated, exasperated. I was panicking, unsure what to do. If I were a real best friend I would have just gone over to her house, and watched chick flicks with her all night. But she was making the choice to stay home, not me. I was tired of sitting on her couch and watching movies ever Friday night. It was my life, my night, and I wanted to have fun with it. We were growing up, maturing. Wasn't it about time we did something more with our currently boring lives? "Bailey!" Now Casey was almost yelling her voice filling the line. I was being a very bad friend.

"I'm here." I spoke up after a couple moments of silence. "And I can't because…" I paused and made sure no one could hear me. My parents were still in the kitchen fixing supper. This wouldn't work if they found out about my evil plan. Finally, I knew what to stay. "I'm sick."

"Sick?" She asked hesitantly, as though she could see right through my excuse. "You seemed fine earlier. At school I mean." Yeah, it seemed pretty unlikely that I would go from excellent to on the verge of death in an hour, but I had to hope she believed me. It didn't matter that I was fine, better than fine.

"It just sort of popped up." I lamely responded, letting out a pathetically fake cough. Karma was going to come back and cause something bad to happen. Lying was never good. But she just didn't understand how important this was to me. And I knew if she knew the truth, she would have looked down on me like she did everyone else. "I'm sorry."

One second. Two seconds. My heart raced and I silently prayed that she believed my sorry attempt at an excuse. I never was good at lying. Three seconds. Four seconds. I was about to break down, confess everything, when finally Casey spoke up. "It's okay." She spoke in her most sympathetic voice, softly now. She believed me. God, I felt so guilty for lying, but it was just something that I had to do. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, try and feel better. We'll go to the beach tomorrow or something." And then she hung up, leaving the line empty. I had gotten away with it, she believed everything I said. I could go to the party now.

Returning the phone to its cradle, I rushed back up to my bedroom to finish getting ready. My excuse later, when my parents asked, was that Casey and I were watching movies at another friend's house. There were no questions from them. It was, after all, our Friday night ritual. And like that, I was home free and out into the night without a care in the world except about having a good time. My only hope was that Casey wouldn't call, or that they wouldn't call to try and find me. Slipping into the shed, I removed my overcoat revealing the halter top and low cut jeans I had picked out. It was sexy, and unlike anything else I had worn before. If my father had caught me in that, he probably would have grounded me for life.

Harding lived on Canard Street, a good ten minutes away from my house. The streets were quiet, eerily so, and as I walked through them alone all the bad things that could happen flashed through my head. My fears subsided, however, as I made it to his house. The lawn was decorated with half the school, drinks in hand. There was a low pound of music coming from inside, and the faint sound of someone getting sick. It was almost like a scene from one of those teen flicks.

"Hi." One guy said, smiling at me as I walked up the driveway past him. I smiled, in my soft polite manner. This wasn't so bad. I don't know why Casey cared so much about bad things happening.

Walking into the house, I was surrounded by vaguely familiar faces. Some people I recognized from my classes, but for the most part it was like I was stuck in some foreign land where I didn't belong, and knew only from passing glances at photographs. As I stood in front of the bar, I met with eyes asking why I was there. I tried to shake the unwanted feeling off, hoping that maybe someone would be nice and come up to me and say "hi". Sipping on some beer, I tried to relax. The beer felt cool in my hands, but the bitter taste was hand to swallow. I'd only ever tasted wine before, and hadn't expected it to be so gross. Whenever they drank in the movies it was an awesome experience. Maybe I wasn't doing it right.

"Hi."

I looked up from where I had been seated, squished on the couch in-between a couple that was making out, and a guy passed out. "Hey." I said back, sipping my beer and hiding my distaste for it. The boy standing in front of me, I later came to learn, was Dylan Walters. At the time though, as I sat on the couch, he was just the first person that had talked to me since I arrived. That made him special to me.

Dylan smiled at me again. There was a warm in his smile, and I felt like curling up beside him. "Having fun?"

"Sure." I answered unconvincingly. I sounded like a lost little girl. "I mean, I'm trying to. I'm not used to this whole scene." Leaning forward, I lowered my voice slightly, feeling embarrassed yet safe at the same time. "I don't really know anyone here."

Dylan extended his hand to me, and I took it immediately. Pulling back, he lifted me from the cushions, and I tripped over my own feet. I could already feel the buzz from the beer. The room was spinning slightly. "Come on." He offered, lacing his fingers through mine. "I'll introduce you to some people." With a beer in my hand, I followed behind him to another group of people. Dylan held my hand tightly, protectively, and I wondered if every party went as well as this. Suddenly that unwanted feeling had disappeared. When I finished my beer, downing the last gulp quickly, he was swift to replace it with a pleasant tasting substitute. I could still taste the bitter alcohol, but it was soothed with the taste of orange juice. When that one was finished, it was replaced with another. I knocked them down my throat in record speed, enjoying the way it slid down my throat without burning.

"You have fun?" Dylan asked with his hand resting on my lower back. I nodded in return, finishing my drink.

The rest of the nights are mostly flashes. Even now, thinking back on it, I have to try hard to remember exactly what happened. One moment I was fine, enjoying the party, and the next minute I was out of it, the world spinning, and my eyes blurring it. Arms wrapped around my waist, and the voiced echoed in my head. I guess I was dancing wildly, grinding up against Dylan. Either I don't remember, or I've blocked it from my thoughts. And one point, I remember losing my balance, falling backwards, and Dylan catching me. His arms held me close. Leaning in, I found myself kissing him, thanking him for catching me. When he kissed me back, I didn't know what else to do except to keep going.

My grandmother use to tell me that any one moment can change your life. I never believed her, telling her there was no proof for that. It all sounded way too "After-School-Special" to me. But that night, that one moment after I kissed him, changed my life forever.

The next morning I woke up, alone, in a stranger's bed. My head was aching, and as much as I tried I couldn't remember what happened. It was until later when I was walking home that things slowly started to come together. For weeks after that I would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, realizing the things I had done. It was too late then though. By the time I had realized what happened it was already around. Everyone knew that I had gotten drunk and had sex with a boy that I didn't know. Dylan didn't help me, telling every that I had come on to him, had led him upstairs. It didn't help that I didn't remember. But I knew that wasn't something I would do, because I was a good girl. Dylan had to be making everything up.

None of it mattered anymore.

Suddenly I was no longer Bailey Addison, good girl that never did wrong, but a slut who got drunk and had sex. Even Casey—my best friend—joined in on the taunts and the whispers. I lost my friends, my virginity, any hopes for a normal high school experience. Eventually, I stopped caring about anything. It occurred to me that if people were going to whisper about me, why not give them something to whisper about. I cut my hair to my chin, messily, and stopped copying the outfits that Casey wore. My skirts were always too short now, and I started partying and drinking more often. It numbed my emotions, it numbed my memories, and for a couple hours I could pretend that I was someone else. Eventually I found myself surrounded by people who lived the same way—drinking and smoking and sleeping around—and stopped caring what anyone else thought.

Two years have passed since that fateful night.

I imagine that if I looked back on pictures from when I was fifteen, and compared them to myself at seventeen, I wouldn't recognize her. My hair hangs flat against my face and I've lost more than just baby fat. The sweet and innocent girl that once existed is now dead, nothing but a shell of her former self. I guess that it was just easier to be the girl that everyone thought I was. It wasn't like walking around in sweater sets, getting straight A's, was going to change what everyone already thought was true. The least I could do was prove everyone right.

It started with another party.

Standing in the middle of a living room, a pint of vodka in my hand, I was listening to the people around me. Another party, another drink. It never got old to me. It felt strange to be back in the same place that earned me my reputation. Harding Miller's house hadn't changed much in almost 2 years. I imagined that if I were to go upstairs to the bedroom it would be just as it was that night. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I gulped it back, the taste familiar to me. It burned the back of my throat and my nose, so I drank more. Eventually I would stop tasting it at all. My friends had told me to meet them here around seven. They were running late. The music was loud, pounding in my head, and I was impatient. I knew what people were thinking as they watched me; is she going to get drunk? Who's she going to sleep with now? I stuck my middle finger up at one girl who was staring at me. She sneered, then turned to her boyfriend and whispered something. I'm sure it was something along the lines of 'don't go near her', but who knew. It had long stopped bothering me, or so I pretended.

My eyes darted around still looking for Riley's friendly face. Riley Wilson was one of my best friends now. Like was my fashion, we met at a party. I had stumbled upon her throwing up in the bathroom and offered to hold back her hair. It was such an unusual circumstance. Who could say that they met their best friend while they had their head in a porcelain bowl? There was just something about Riley that drew me to her. She walked through the hallways with her head held high, and an "I don't care" attitude. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't be like her. There was a confidence there that I just couldn't touch. But I faked it well enough.

It was her house that I hid at when my parents gave me a hard time about partying, or my grades. It was her who would walk with me, getting high in the middle of the afternoon, instead of studying or dealing with life. But now she was late, leaving me alone in a sea of angry faces. I wanted nothing more then my best friend at my side. Spinning around, I probed the room to no avail. Riley was no where to be found. Unscrewing the cap, I knocked back a shot. It still burned, but I didn't bother caring. I needed to feel a buzz, anything that softened the looks from the people around me. Gulping back a little bit more, I made my way towards the kitchen. Maybe Riley had gone out for a smoke.

It wasn't until I bumped into him that I noticed the guy standing off to the side. Licking up some spilled vodka, I looked over in his direction. "God." My voice was loud and annoyed, until I realized he was incredibly cute. I thought I recognized him from one of my classes, but it was hard to tell when you barely attended them. "Sorry," I said, my voice softening. Already my mind was spinning and I knew how this was going to go. With a glowing smile, he brushed my shoulder. "Really," He would have been another perfect notch on my belt, a boy who would come to call me the same names as everyone else.

"It's okay." He said smoothly. The look in his eye told me exactly what he was thinking. As slutty as it sounded, I had seen that look many times before. There was a way a boy looked at you when he wanted to get into your pants. "So," he started. "Are you here with anyone?" It would have been easy to say no, and go off and try and find Riley. I would probably spend half the night alone, walking around searching for my friend. Or I could go off with him and do what I was known for. As much I knew I would regret it in the morning, I couldn't stop myself. This house had been the location of my new awakening. I couldn't let it down now.

"No one."

And like that, it started again.

It was always the same thing—a smile, a kiss, his hand taking my own—and like that I continued on being Bailey the drunken slut. I couldn't escape it and I couldn't fight it. I walked up the stairs with him. His name was Logan, and he wanted to share a joint with me. He chose Harding's parents bedroom, and he presented the joint that had been tucked into his jacket. I figured it was just an excuse to get my upstairs. Lighting it, inhaling, he passed it in my direction. I watched him carefully, his mannerisms the same as those boys that had come before. He wasn't special, or new. He was just another boy that I would make another mistake with. It was fate; I couldn't escape it. My life was a never ending cycle of never ending boys. They all wanted to be another one of my regrets, another one of my mistakes.

I was standing by the window, inhaling the smoke in as he made his way towards me. In an instant, he plucked the joint from between my fingers—wasting a good escape—and leaned in closely. Before I could stop, or protest, I felt his hands wrap around me, his lips kiss me, and I tried to just relax. Here we go again, I thought, my eyes still open as his tongue explored my mouth, here we go again.