A/N: Sorry about the wait guys, and this one's kinda short.
Chapter II: Seventeen
We pulled up to the house, and within five minutes Chavo was making out with God knows who, and my brother was doing something incredibly stupid—like drinking mass amounts of beer through a funnel and a hose. The music was terrible; of course I'm only into Johnny Cash and the Boss. I stepped out onto the patio to try and get away from it, no such luck. I was hoping I'd eventually bump into my friend Sherry. She's a cheerleader with an attitude problem, so she usually ends up at parties like this.
I could see Mike and Ivory on the other side of the patio. This girl, Melissa—Sherry can't hold a candle to her—came out and started talking with Mike and Ivory…or rather talking with Mike and to Ivory. Seeing her with him started to make my stomach turn, so I went inside to get a drink or something.
I passed Chris Comer in the stair well with his girlfriend. She was up in his face yelling something like, "Don't you 'But Baby, Boobie' me." I shook my head with a slight laugh, passing the dance floor on my way to the kitchen.
I got myself an iced tea then realized I really needed to use the bathroom. I went down the hall to in time to see Melissa slip out of the powder room, so I ducked right in after her and wound up facing a half-dressed Mike Winchell.
At first my brain was going, "Oh la, la' as I stared wide-eyed. The in started to click what Melissa was doing in here with him. Then I just got mad. I looked up at him and he looked back at me in surprise. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. For myself and for him, and then I just said the first thing that came to my mind:
"You slut!" By then my brain had stopped working and it was just my feet storming away. I bumped right into Sherry.
"Hey baby, what's up?" She asked me. I shook my head.
"I don't feel so good," I told her. "Could you give me a ride home?'
"Sure sweetie, what's the matter?" She asked. I looked back at the bathroom in time for Mike to come out, fully dressed now.
"Mike Winchell?" Sherry asked. "What about him?" She passed. "You like him." She gave me a look, like I were crazy. "Personally I wouldn't go with him for all the money in the world."
"Why not?" I asked.
"That boy ain't right in the head," she told me.
"You shouldn't talk about people that way," I reminded her. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
"I'm only talking to you, honey," Sherry told me. "Come on let's get you home."