A/N: Maybe no one noticed, but I'm absolutely the worst at updating/being-consistent... I really wouldn't expect it to change. I'm actually very surprised at myself that I even uploaded this at all... A lot of stuff just sits in my computer gathering dust because I don't have the guts to post anything... not only that but a lot of my stuff is written in random patches... and nothing relates... Ah well... Thank you everyone who has reviewed and put this on their favourites lists. Seriously. I really don’t deserve that. Anywhooo... E-N-J-O-Y!

Chapter THREE!

Over the course of the week, Quinn and I have “practiced” in the janitors closet (classy!) six times, that old classroom in the basement twice, the bathroom once, and behind the tree near the parking lot between every class during our eight minute break. We’re both very sneaky, and so far, no one’s caught us.

So I’m sitting solo in the cafeteria, with an awesome sandwich and a creme soda which I am determined to drink. I crank up my headphones and get to drinking, flipping through my biology text book like it’s the most interesting piece of literature I have ever read.

Thankfully, Jack comes over to the table. He slams my text book shut for me, and pulls out my headphones. He regards me with a fond, Jack-ish smile that would look retarded on anyone but Jack.

”Dude Seb, where have you been? I haven’t seen you since yesterday!” Jack says happily, but I feel like shit.

“Sorry man, I was, um, showing that new kid around. Quinn Josephs?” I say, distractedly sipping my soda, praying my face isn’t beat red.

“Wow, that sucks, who put you up to that? Was it Hagardon? She’s a bitch.” Jack said, stealing the can out of my hand to drink from.

I blink.

“Man, that kid is a dick! He’s in my Food’s class” Jack chuckles to himself, “Man, what a queer!”

 Well shit.

I decide that now’s a good a time as ever to stand up for my integrity.

“Seriously, come on, what’s wrong with that-“ dying a little on the inside”- besides, he’s not that bad. He’s kind of funny?”

Meek, Seb, very meek.

Knowing Jack, he completely ignored everything I just said, and chugs down more of my Creme Soda.

It’s times like these I’m glad Jack is the most clueless person I’ve ever met.

“All I’m saying is I’m glad I don’t have Gym with him or what ever. The last thing I need is him raping my ass in the showers, or something. Shit.” Jack pulls out his cell and check’s his messages. “Well my dearest friend, Amanda and I have last minute ‘party supplies’ to pick up, so if you’ll excuse me. I’ll see you at seven, right?”

I’m still staring in horror.

“Yo, Seb! Seven, right?” Jack practically yells, waving his hands in my face.

“Yes, seven, right. Bye.”

Jack leaves and I put back in my headphones and open back up my text book- but I’m not aware of doing either.

XXX

It’s six thirty and I’m sitting at the foot of my porch steps feeling sick.

Quinn was supposed to be here ten minutes ago to pick me up for the party, but he’s late. Which gives me more time to worry and fret over what Jack said at lunch.

There’s no WAY! we can go through with our plan now. It was stupid of me to even think- or hope- that it could work. Actually, if I didn’t feel like I was going to vomit if I opened my mouth, I would probably start laughing at how ridiculous it sounds in my head now.

I don’t even want to go to this party anyway. I look down at my backpack filled with Jack Daniels and some coolers I stole from my mom.

Stupid drinks.

My palms are getting sweaty

I wipe them on my jeans and glance down the street.

Jack’s face flashes in my mind, ‘man, what a queer’. This repeats it self a few times, much like it does in really cheesy cartoons and things.

With a groan I bury my head in my arms and wait.

Finally, about ten minutes later I can hear Quinn’s beat up car flooring-it down my street, music blaring.

He skids to a stop right in front of my house, and hops out.

“Man, I don’t know why it took me so long to find this place, I just realized my friend lives a block away.” Quinn says, shaking his head as I approach.

“Go figure.” I say as we get in the car. I’m glad that my depression is not showing through in my voice.

I think Quinn talked to me the entire ride to Amanda’s house, but I don’t remember a word of what he was saying. I was still freaking out over lunch time.

What the hell am I doing?

Do I want to ruin my life?

Apparently.

We step out of our car and I still feel like I’m going to be sick. Quinn doesn’t seem to notice though, and drags me through the door. We’re met by Amanda, which makes sense, because she’s kind of the host. She gives Quinn a strained smile (no doubt due to a few things she’s heard from Jack), and cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Hey guys, glad you could make it. You got drinks there, Seb? You can take them into the kitchen, I think Jack’s there.” Amanda yells at us.

The music is pretty loud.

And shitty

Quinn’s spotted someone he knows, and is now waving his arm off at them. “Dude, Matt’s over there. I haven’t seen that guy in months. Could you take this for me, Seb?” Quinn hands me his 40 of rum. “I’ll meet up with you soon.” He winks and ruffles my hair before disappearing into the crowd.

I sigh and start pushing myself through the mob to the kitchen’s swinging doors.

Jack’s sucking face with some chick... Hillary? That sounds good enough. I’m surprised I remember anything at this point. Anyway, they’re making some pretty nasty slurping noises, and I realize I can’t just stand here, or I’m going to vomit on my shoes. I do what makes most sense to me right now, and grab my bottle of whisky, and push my way back into the livingroom place.

I take a swig from the bottle in my hand, nearly die, and gravitate towards a relatively couple-free couch.

I suddenly remember that the drunker I become, the less this whisky will taste like cat piss, and chug a bit more back. On the plus side, I’m sure to look really badass (read: pathetic) drinking straight whisky.

God this shit is gross. Why do I bother getting drunk...

I glance over at some kid who appears to be getting the ninth degree from his girlfriend. She looks about ready to pull out all his vital organs with her bare hand. He’s laughing his ass off in a haze of drunken unawareness.

Ah, yes, that’s why.

I take another sip. It makes a pretty noise on the bottle as the whisky rushes to the top of the bottle and back down.

This music really is the worst.

Generic ‘party! yeah-lets-get-crunk-dude’ music.

Swish, clink, splosh. It’s getting better.

So I’m thinking this is more of a rec-room than a living room. If Amanda’s as smart as I think she is, she’ll have somehow barricaded her parents living room.

Swish, clink, splosh.

Oh god, I can’t believe how much my life sucks right now. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? What am I going to do? What am I going to do? What am I going to do? What am I going to do?...

Swish, clink, splosh.

Some couple comes tromping in, and throws themselves on my couch. The dude’s head is pretty much on my lap. For fuck’s sakes. I poke at his head with my bottle of Jack. Oh, well hahaha, what a funny little coincidence that is... Jack...and Whisky Jack... I’m sure there’s some sort of literary term for my situation, but I could really care less.

Clothes are in the process of being ripped off.

“Hey!” I yell, “Get the fuck off my couch!”

I contemplate smashing my bottle over them... but then I would have nothing to drink.

The girl gets up, and stares. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Get your fucking boyfriends fucking head off of my fucking... fucking lap. And– and go... fuck off or something!” Arrh! Angry drunk!

“Jesus, what a spaz.” The girl spits, pulling her boyfriend up. “Hey kid? Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go get laid. You’re so uptight.”

Cool. Yeah. Sure guys.

Swish. Clink. Splosh.

“Man, Seb, you don’t look so good.”

It’s Amanda. Amanda’s shown up to tell me how uptight I am for not letting a couple make out on my lap...

“Hah... yeah.” I say. Chug. Chug. Chug.

“So what have you been up to? I haven’t seen you lately.” Amanda says, with a fake, cheery smile.

I really should feel bad, I mean, Amanda has been pretty good friends with Jack and I since like, the ninth grade or something. I should feel bad for not talking to her for two weeks or whatever, but I’m too bust wallowing in self-pity.

“Oh, you know... this and that...”

Wow.

Lame.

Thankfully Jack and Hillary (Heather?) Show up to prevent me from sounding any more like a fifty year old man.

“Hey guys! Having fun!” Jack is in full party-jock-beerbong-and-pussy-mode at this point.

Amanda and I both make our nods of approval, which is all it takes to convince Jack.

He starts talking about all the ‘idiots’ who’ve shown up, but cuts himself off at the same time I feel someone’s arms wrap around my waist from behind.

Ah, fuck...

Quinn’s breath reeks of alcohol, as he pretty much yells into my ear.

“Seb! I’ve been lookin’ fer you alllll night!”

Great.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jack says to Quinn.

Quinn notices Jack, and beams.

NONONONONONONONONONONONONONOSHITNONO!

“Ah,ha,ha– dude! Just the guy I’ve been lookin’ for! Dude, man, we’ve, like, totally got THE BEST fucking news for you, bro—” Quinn sways on the spot. “Seb here is like, totally gay for you! He’s loooved you for yeeaaaars and years! I think he wants in your pants, man! You should definitely, like, take him up on that, you won’t be disappointed... ‘cause, ya know, he loves you!”

Quinn finishes his profoundly moving speech by grabbing my shoulders and shoving his tongue down my throat.

“Ew, what the hell? Gross!” Hillary squeals into the silence.

I wrench myself from Quinn and start blubbering out excuses.

“Jack, it’s not true! He’s drunk, he doesn’t know what–“ I look up at Jack and I want to die. Find a gun or a knife, and just kill myself, because there is no way I can continue living my peaceful, pastry-filled life after tonight.

Dismembered bodies strewn around the house could not have put a more horrified and disgusted look on Jack’s face, no matter how hard they tried.

A/N!

Ah, poor kid.

Anyyywhoo, this chapter sucks a lot of ass, in my esteemed opinion. Ha ha. But I hope it’s alright in terms of GETTING THE MESSAGE ACROSS EFFECTIVELY. In other words, I hope everyone can figure out what just happened. I suppose spending a bit more time re-reading and editing before I post would be a good idea, but whose to say what’s right and wrong... whoo look at me blabbing away. ‘Night.