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It was a Friday night like any other. The game had just ended and there was lots of excitement in the air.

We’d won the last playoff game and were headed to the finals to meet our old nemesis and everyone was on a high.

As head cheerleader it had been my job to plan the after party this go round. I was nervous because I’d heard a few whispers about some kids who were planning to bring alcohol and pot on the down low.

Something everyone knew I would never condone. My dad would have my ass if I ever got involved in something like that. I guess you can say I was a good-two shoes. I knew the rules and stuck to them.

One of the reasons I had as much freedom as I did and was allowed more leeway than most of my peers is because I’d built a relationship of trust with my parents over the years.

They knew they could depend on me to be honest and to do the right thing. So I was always very conscious of the choices I made and how they may reflect on them.

“Jill, have you heard anything more about Sean and those guys bringing stuff to the party?”

“Would you chill? Everything’s gonna be fine. No one’s gonna mess up your party.”

There was something in the way she said it, something I’d been noticing more and more lately, but I brushed it off as just stress. I would never believe that my best friend was jealous of me.

I was the only one of my clique who had aced the SATs and had a solid acceptance to one of the top schools in the nation.

It wasn’t that I was smarter than everyone else, though I did hold my own. But I was the only one whose parents pushed me harder and farther and was actually there to see me through.

High school had never been the party central most seemed to think it was, not for me. My daddy still helped me with my homework at the kitchen table and when he had to go out of town on business mom picked up the slack.

In short, I had parents who cared when so many others didn’t. They’re the kind of parents who are there for every game.

Who still take me to the dentist and to doctor’s appointments, while most of my peers were practically raising themselves.

It was only after Brandon moved back, and we became inseparable that I started noticing some resentment towards me among my friends.

But again I put it off to the fact that I no longer spent as much time with them as I had in the past. We were going to be apart for the next four years since none of them were going to the same university. But I figured we’d see each other on break.

That night I was in too much of a rush to get home and get dressed. Brandon had been waiting for me next to his car, the new star running back.

We were both too excited and hopped up on teenage love to care about anything else but each other and the night ahead. Neither of us had the slightest clue that the night would end in disaster.

He’d dropped me off at home and because of pressure from my friends we had agreed to go to the party separately. He would arrive with his friends and I mine but we’d leave together.

Things had started off nicely. Jill had come to pick me up. She was already in a party mood on the way to pick up the others.

I hadn’t had any time to eat at home so when she offered me the diet soda I gulped it down. I was in the middle of complaining about her crazy driving when the first wave of nausea hit me.

I told myself it was just nerves about the night ahead. I do so hate being the odd man out. Always being the voice of reason. Only Brandon seemed to appreciate my old fashioned ways as the girls called it.

I grew tired not long after and by the time the others climbed in the backseat every little sound was like a bullhorn going off right next to my ear.

Brandon hadn’t shown up yet by the time we got to the home where the party was being held, and the others went off to greet some of our friends.

I knew the house like the back of my hand. It was Beth’s, one of my best friends. I slipped up the stairs and into her bedroom thinking I’d get a quick lie down and beat whatever this was that was bugging me.

The next thing I remember it was morning and I had the worst headache of my life. I rolled out of bed not knowing where I was, stumbling all over my feet. It took me a while to figure out where I was, but everything else was fuzzy.

There was no one in the house, which still showed signs of the party from the night before. Had I been drinking? That didn’t make sense.

Sure I was excited the night before but I never drink, I’d promised mom and dad that I never would. Not even when I go off to college.

I stumbled out into the sunlight and rummaged around in my bag for my phone. I called Brandon first but there was no answer.

My next call was to Jill who came and got me and took me home. She was bubbly and talkative the whole way, but it was hard for me to think.

Each time I asked about me at the party she’d somehow change the subject to something else until I gave up. When I got home I dragged myself into the house, avoiding my parents.

I took a quick shower and fell into bed for what seemed like hours. When I woke up later outside my window the sky was dark.

I picked up the phone to call Brandon but again it went to voicemail. That was strange. Where could he be? We’ve never gone this long without getting in touch.

There were dozens of missed calls and texts on my phone, but it only took one to bring my world crashing down on me. The image on the screen was one I never hope to see again.

So powerful was the impact that it had sent me flying off my bed into the bathroom to throw up. Once I got myself cleaned up my first thought was of Brandon.

I ran across the street to his place and banged on the door, but his mom answered and said he wasn’t there.

I felt sick as I walk crawled back across the street. Mom called out to me but I gave her some excuse and hid in my room with the covers over my head.

That’s when the shakes started and I felt like I was losing my mind. What had I done…?