House Party by Eric Walters Page A

expected, but they’d all been nice.
    â€œI don’t know how I feel,” I said. “I guess just numb. I can’t believe any of this happened. I can’t believe it happened.”
    â€œI’ve seen worse,” she said.
    â€œWorse than this?” I gasped.
    â€œFar worse. I’ve been to places where sinks have been smashed, toilets ripped out, walls broken, televisions stolen—”
    â€œI stopped somebody from taking my father’s digital camera,” I said.
    â€œYou won’t know what was taken until you and your parents check out the whole house. I wouldn’t be surprised if lots of things have been stolen.”
    What an awful thought.
    â€œAnd we can all be grateful that nobody was seriously hurt,” the officer said. “There have been some real tragedies at parties like these. Broken bones, head injuries…there have even been deaths.”
    â€œDeaths?” I said.
    â€œIf you have hundreds of teenagers fueled by alcohol, with nobody to put on the brakes, there’s no limit to how bad things can get.”
    I thought about that girl who had been cut by the flying glass. I wondered where she went, how badly she had been hurt and what would have happened if that brick had hit her in the head or if the glass had flown up into her eyes.
    â€œIs that girl in the ambulance going to be okay?” Jen asked.
    â€œShe’ll be fine. Alcohol poisoning. I talked to her. Stupid kid had never drunk before in her whole life, and tonight she chooses to down a whole mickey of whiskey.”
    The officer made a face like she was disgusted, and my stomach did a flip. The alcohol in that punch was more than I’d ever had before. I could only imagine how Jen was feeling.
    â€œShe’ll be treated and released, probably tomorrow morning,” the officer said. “I don’t know what will be worse—the way her head is going to be feeling or facing her parents. And speaking of facing parents, we haven’t been able to get in touch with your parents. Nobody is picking up at your grandmother’s house.”
    â€œThe phone is in my nana’s room and she’s hard of hearing. If she took out her hearing aid, she probably can’t hear it ringing. She must be sleeping through it,” I said. “What about my father’s cell phone?”
    â€œNobody is picking up—it says the customer is not currently available.”
    â€œI guess my father turned his cell phone off.”
    â€œWere you able to get in touch with my mother?” Jen asked.
    â€œShe should be here soon,” the officer said.
    â€œDid she say anything?” Jen asked.
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    I had a pretty good idea. I wanted somebody here, but I was afraid of what Jen’s mother would say, or what she’d think, and what she’d do. There was no telling how much trouble we were going to be in.
    â€œIt wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I said. “We just invited a few people.”
    â€œThat’s how it usually starts,” the officer said. “A small gathering with a few people.”
    â€œHonestly, that’s all we invited. We didn’t even know most of those people. You have to believe us!” I pleaded.
    â€œI do believe you. What happens is you invite somebody who mentions it to somebody else on their MSN, or they sendout an instant message, or some people make a few phone calls, and it just keeps building and building until it gets out of control and it can’t be stopped.”
    â€œThat’s what happened. We tried to control it but we couldn’t.” I started crying again. I’d been crying on and off the whole time.
    The officer put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s over and there’s nothing you can do. What we have to do is look at what will happen next. We can’t just leave you here by yourself. We need to be able to leave you and the house in the hands