textfiles/stories/partya.txt

	I'd like to tell you a story.  It happened on a Friday last October,

 when the leaves were turning colors and the air was getting a bit crisp;

 you could feel it deep in your lungs some mornings, like an early warning

 that winter was coming.  I remember it as one of those few days of the

 year when you could dirve around all day with your car window open, but
 
 you'd find yourself choosing to wear a sweatshirt or at least put on a light

 jacket instead of just the usual summer t-shirt.  It was midafternoon, and

 I had just gotten home from school.  My mom and dad were both at work, and

 my older brother Sean wasn't due home for another five weeks - he'd been off

 at college for two years already.  Not counting the dog, I was the only one

 home.  

	Well, I saw her pawing at the patio door and I let her out to do her

 thing and scamper around in the back, careful not to let her roam too close

 to the Sillman's yard.  They stopped liking her ever since she discovered 

 their tulip garden.  Mr. Sillman came out and was yelling on and on about how

 there should be a law against keeping Rottweilers, but that's another

 story.  Anyway, I was just moping around in the back when the phone rang.

	I got it right after the third ring.  It was Nate.  We'd been friends

 since the ninth grade.  He's an interesting character.  It seems as if he's

 got connections everywhere.  You could go anywhere in the state and ask 

 anyone of any importance, "Do you know Nate Brenner?", and you'd probably

 get a yes reply.  Anyway, he asked me if I wanted to go to a party with him

 that night.

	"Sure," I replied.  "Who's havin' it?"
	
	"I dunno.  A girl I work with told me about it.  She said it'd be

 pretty good.  You want me to drive?"

	I think I should tell you about where Nate works.  He's got the

 coolest job in the world.  For someone our age, that is.  He's a writer

 at our town paper.  That means he gets great wages for writing about things

 like the new mall's Grand Opening, and maybe take a picture or two.  The
 
 hours are pretty unstructerd there, and it's much cleaner than working at
 
 some Burger Hell, like some guys.

	"No, I'll drive."  I had just gotten a new Chevy Type 1O the week

 before, and I felt like showing it off.  Restaraunt work really isn't all

 that bad.

	I pulled into his driveway at about seven-thirty.  I waited about

 three minutes and was just about to go up to the door when he came out.

 "So where to? " I asked.  We stopped at the drug store for beer and he then

 gave me directions as I drove.

	It was in an area a little more south of us, where there were less

 houses and more trees.  Even though our destination was only fifteen minutes

 away, the frequent pickup truck and occasional barn was quite a contrast 

 from the housing developments and neo-Victorian architecture that was so 

 familiar to us.  "We're in hicksville now," Nate joked.  He was fiddling

 with my tape box, playing his favorite selections on the stereo.

	We had stayed on the main road the whole time, and I was wondering

 where to turn off.  "It's right off the road... paper says 8269, so it should

 be coming up on your left," he said.

	We saw an old metal mailbox with the address and pulled into the 

 gravel drive.  There were two huge maples on the right of the lawn, bursting

 with autumn color.  The house was a brick 7O's ranch, and from where we were

 parked you could see through the bay window into the living room.  It was

 papered in some beige print.  I saw a lot of real earthy, light colors, but

 couldn't make anything out.  Well, we got out and walked up to the front door,

 passing about six or seven other cars, including an avocado green Cutlass

 that looked like it was at least fifteen years old.  We didn't have to wait 

 after our knock, someone opened the door for us right away.  It was some 

 girl who looked like about nineteen.  He brown hair was braided and ran down

 just below her shoulders.  I noticed the faded Guess jacket and printed blue

 tank top right away.  "Hi," she drawled out in a long, seductive sort of
 
 way.  "Hi," Nate replied.  "Uh.. is Cathy here?  She invited us."  "Cathy?

 I don't even know her.  Sorry."  We proceeded in anyway.  I was carrying our

 beer, Coors by choice.  The house was fairly neat and uncluttered inside.

 I saw right away that the living room was purely art deco, including a green


 painting abouve an alcove, and a black ceramic cat on a glass flower stand,

 forever staring into a goldfish bowl.  We passed this girl and her two 

 friends, of whom I can't even recall what they look like, and went into

 the kitchen.  Nate was looking for Cathy and I was voluntarily following.

 There was a stereo on somewhere in the house, for we could hear some good,

 hard music being played.  I recognized it as Def Leppard's "Pyromania" album.

 In the center of the tidy kitchen was a large walnut table, and about six

 people, all a little older than us, were gathered round playing poker.  Full

 and empty beer bottles were scattered all over the place and it looked like

 they were having a good time.  One of the guys was wearing a Boston Mills 

 ski sweatshirt, which I recognized as I had gone skiing there the year

 before.  The two girls that were there, both about twenty or so, looked

 like they had too much to drink: their actions were kinda slow and their

 eyes were sort of red and glazed.  As Nate and I would say, they were

 getting the glazzies.  They didn't seem to notice us, so we strolled down

 a few steps into the family room.

  	The place gave off an indescribable air of comfort.  The soft, brown

 carpeting, dark wood paneling, two big, plushy sofas next to a large

 bookshelf stocked with Reader's Digest and the like, and a large-screen TV

 all contributed to this.  There were two people sitting by the back door 

 talking quietly in the shadows, and we took a place on the sofas to start on

 our beers.

 	There were a few bowls of nuts here and there and as we drank we tried

 throwing them up in the air and catching them in our mouths, frog-style.

 Needless to say, most of the time it failed, and we stopped before the floor

 was TOO littered.  The music was kinda loud, so we turned down the sound on

 the TV and watched MTV to it.  It's really a lot of fun.  After about a half

 hour of this and beer, a short brunette approached us.  She was wearing a

 mauve paisley top and jeans, or something like that.  "Nate!" she exclaimed.

	Nate seemed a bit jostled by this.  "Cathy!  How are you?"

	"Good!  You?"  They exchanged other such niceties before walking off.

 "I'll be back in a while," Nate whispered to me.  I knew they'd be gone for

 some time, talking and whatnot, so I checked out the television situation.

 Changing the music videos, I discovered that a great movie I had been very

 fond of was on.  I turned up the volume to combat the music in the background

 and started anouther beer.

	I had just gotten into this movie when I heard someone coming down

 from the kitchen.  It was the girl we saw at the front door.  She took a seat

 next to me.  "So, how are you?" she asked.  "Alright.  Want a beer?"  "Yes, 

 thanks."  She eagerly took one.  I introduced myself and discovered her name

 as Lisa.  We talked for a bit, and I remember her asking me if I wanted to

 take a walk with her outside.  "Sure, " I eagerly replied.  She seemed like

 a really nice person at the time.  Well as we were getting up, I saw a tall,

 dusty haired guy, about her age, approach her.  "Let's go, honey."

 "Alright," turning to me, she sweetly said, "bye!"  Nice girl, I thought as

 she marched off with him, hand in hand.  He looked like such a jerk!  At

 this point I just wanted to leave.  They were still playing cards as I walked

 through the kitchen.  One of the girls was asleep in some guy's lap, and the

 other one looked like she was about to go out at any time.  The ceramic cat

 in the living room was a lot uglier than when I first saw it, and I was

 getting mad looking for Nate.  Some guy in a faded concert shirt gave me a

 half-drunk beer.  "Thanks," I sarcastically muttered as he walked by.  I

 remember finally finding him in the basement with Cathy, playing quarters.  I
 
 joined in for a few minutes, but Nate could tell that I wanted out of there so

 he told her that he had to go.  "See ya later," I cheerily said to Cathy as

 I rose.  They followed me up the stairs.  The clock in the hall read twelve-

 thirty.  Nate gave Cathy a hurried goodbye and we left the house.  In the

 driveway I saw the guy in the concert shirt get into the old Cutlass.  A few

 shouts I couldn't make out were made to a small cluster of people on the

 lawn, and he drove off.  Similarily, we got in my car and pulled out.  I had

 my window rolled down the whole way and was enjoying the country air.  I had

 to drive with my brights on because it was so dark with all of the huge trees

 looming overhead and no streetlight around that it was impossible to drive

 without them.  We were silent the whole way home.  By Nate's mellow radio

 selections I could tell that he was getting tired.  Around some bends on a

 roadside clearing on my side of the car, I saw about five sets of glowing,

 green eyes.  Deer.  I still didn't feel like talking, so I didn't mention

 it to Nate.  Lisa was still running through my mind as we pulled into Nate's

 drive.  He said something like "Call you later," and got out.

	That was about all that happened that night.  I never saw Lisa or any

 of those guys again.  Cathy went away for school so it's highly doubtful that

 Nate would even get invited to another one of those parties.  Even if he did,

 I probably wouldn't go.  It's not that those people aren't interesting, but

 since then, I've met others just as neat and besides, it's not good to live

 in the past, right?