-1Littlemissbad, I can see you're going to be a dedicated reviewer, and therefore I like you very much! I quite like Andy in this, because he isn't perfect. Normally I make him too perfect (unlike every guy I've ever met), but he isn't here.

I don't know why, but I found it really hard to do the second half of this. I left it out when I wrote this, so I've just spent the past few days struggling to recall all the parties I've been to. So basically, I am disappointed with this.

Also, from reading the hits/visitors thing (whatever it is) and who's added this to their alert list, I can see lots of you aren't reviewing! I know, I'm such a stalker.

If You Hate Your Friends, You're Not Alone

"Morning, morning," Tom says, breezing in confidently, and even kissing me and several other girls on the cheek. "I must say, it's a wonderful morning today, isn't it?"

"What's up with you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Guess who's made captain!" Tom announces loudly. Arrogant bastard. I see Andy coming in out of the corner of my eye, but unlike yesterday, nobody cares. They're all too busy gloating over Tom, who's basking in the attention.

"Oh goody," I say sarcastically, irritated by the sight of Andy and the memory of yesterday. "Now you're captain of the cheerleaders we can spend a lot more time together!" He shoots a glare at me; guess he's not in the mood for joking when he thinks it might spoil his glory.

"You're captain?" Lora, another cheerleader, who likes Tom, a lot, squeals, along with several other people. The rest of the football team in our homeroom start clapping him on the back. I don't know why everyone's making such a big deal out of this. It's not like it's a surprise. We all knew cocky, self-assured Tom would be made captain.

"This calls for a celebration!" Tom announces. I can see where this is going. The obligatory party, which Tom's probably been planning for weeks, months maybe. "I'm having party on Friday night, a sort of combined back to school and making captain party."

Mr. Benson comes in, and people make their way to their desks, but Tom throws his arm around my shoulders.

"I hope my favorite cheerleader's going to be there," he murmurs in my ear. He must have guessed I'm pissed with him for something.

"I don't know," I say, thinking about Grams basically grounding me yesterday. Not that me going to a party on a Friday evening would have been on the cards anyway.

"Aw, come on, you know it won't be any fun without you!"

"Oh fine, you twisted my arm," I say, figuring I can talk Grams around. Or at least climb out my bedroom window.

"Tell Tom congratulations," Andy says, sitting down in the desk next to me in AP Literature. I'm surprised to see him. I suppose I didn't have him down as an AP kind of person. After all, Tom isn't. He's always mocking me over all the studying I do.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhearing earlier…I don't think anyone could to be honest." I glare, and turn to face the front of the class, willing the teacher to get here.

"Jealous, are you?" I say loftily, opening my notebook, and he just laughs.

I did consider asking Grams if I could go out, but she was in such a foul mood at dinner that I figured it would be better, certainly easier, if I just sneaked out again. It's not like she'd have said yes to Tom's party anyway, although to be honest I'm not sure why I did either.

It's just like how I remember last year's parties; loud, dark and fuelled with alcohol. Sticking with this theme, I grab a shot of tequila from a table near the door. Knowing I have to drive home, it'll have to be my only one, but I down it anyway; it's supposed to last me, but I need it to get through this without losing it.

"Prue!" Before I know what's happened, Tom has grabbed my arm and is leading me through the kitchen and out into the garden.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist a party, especially one of mine…" He's standing too close to me for me to relax.

"Well I can't stay long…I have to get home."

"Why?" He asks, innocently enough I suppose, swallowing some more beer from a can in his hand.

"My…my grandmother…" Doesn't know I'm out? Get real, Prue. "She's not very well. I feel bad leaving Piper and Phoebe there alone."

"They'll be fine," Tom drawls, sitting down on a wall, and pulling me down too.

I let the loud music thump through my head, and take in the couples all around, making out, their hands all over each other, wishing I could have more tequila.

This really isn't me. Why aren't I at home studying or something?

"Prue!" Tom snaps, and I realize he's been speaking to me.

"Sorry. What?" I turn to face him.

"Sometimes you're so…" He trails off.

"So what?" I demand, feeling my anger rise.

"Weird," Tom says with exasperation.

"Weird?" I repeat, enraged, and I stand up. "It's better than being a complete dick!"

Tom smirks.

"That wasn't a compliment!" I add. How stupid is he?!

Tom continues to smile in his smug, self-satisfied way, and I give a cry of frustration and storm off, heading for the front door.

I knock into someone just as I reach the front door and the drink they're holding goes all over my top.

"Sorry…" The guy tries to say, as I pull my top away from me in disgust, the whole front of it soaked with beer. I just glare and push past him. Tom's friends are just as annoying as him, and just as stupid.

The drive home requires loud and angry music and I shove in a CD and roll down the windows.

I hate Tom sometimes, I really do.

"Prudence!" The front door opens. The light from inside is so bright in contrast to the inky night that I can only see a dark silhouette of the person standing there, but I know it's Grams from that shrill shriek she just let out to pass for my name that sets my teeth on edge.

Oh crap.

"Um, hi Grams," I say casually, like I haven't just been caught doing anything wrong.

"Hi Grams?" She echoes contemptuously. "Where have you been?"

"Out. I mean, I went to…" The library, my usual excuse, is shut…"A study group," I say finally, quite possibly the lamest excuse I could come up with.

"Do you think I was born yesterday?" She asks, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. "I can tell you're lying to me."

"But I-"

"Why did you sneak out then?" Okay, she's got me there, and she knows it. "Just get inside, Prudence," she says in a weary tone, and I slouch in. "I told you specifically that you weren't allowed out after what happened with Phoebe, yet you continue to disobey me! What kind of an example do you think you're setting for your sisters?"

"A normal one?" I retort, losing my temper. "You can't keep us locked up here forever!"

Grams' eyes flash dangerously. "I'm not keeping you locked up, I'm doing what's best for you. Five years from now you'll be thanking me."

"For what? Screwing me up?! I'm going to college next year, what do you think you're going to do then?!"

"College?" Grams spits. "You're not going to college."

"What?"

"I said you're not going."

"It's not up to you! If I want to go then I'm going to go!"

Grams steps closer to me and raises her hand, and for one absurd moment I think she's going to hit me, but instead she grabs onto my top and frowns at it.

"What's this on your top?"

I look down at the still-very-wet-with-beer top.

"Is this alcohol?" She demands, and when I don't answer, she shakes me. "Is it?"

"It's not mine, it was some boy's-"

"Oh what a surprise," she says, letting go of my top and pushing me away. "There were boys at wherever you've been."

"It's not like I has sex with them for god's sake," I mutter under my breath.

"Excuse me?" Grams says, her face livid. Now might be a good time to leave.

"Nothing…"

"How dare you answer back to me!" She says in a dangerously low voice. "In my own house!" She pauses, shaking her head at me, and then shouts, "I'm sick of the sight of you! Just go to your room!"

I start to head towards the stairs.

"Keys, Prudence," she says, stopping me in my tracks.

"What?" I ask in disbelief, turning around.

"Give me your car keys. You'll get them in the mornings before school, and I'll take them as soon as you get home. You are not leaving this house again without my permission."

"You're crazy," I mutter, pulling my keys from my pocket and throwing them into her outstretched hand.

Good thing I've got the spares.

If You Hate Your Friends is by Pretty Girls Make Graves.