Helen Hild

The Party

The night starts out like any normal Friday.
Then your friend makes a suggestion.
They want to go to a party across town.
You’ll get in trouble if you go with them.
But they’ll hate you if you don’t.
It’s a lose-lose situation.
You agree to go and hope for the best.
Some random kid offers a ride over the phone.
Your friends agree and you wait for the ride.
His black car sneaks around the block.
You jump in the car, ignoring your instincts.
Five minutes later you’re at the party.
The door opens and you inhale quickly.
You know you don’t want to be there.
But you’re the only one who knows that.
So many temptations surround you.
But you’ll never do anything.
Health class has taught you well.
Instead you run into the bathroom.
And pretend like you have something to do there.
People start to bang on the door.
You have to get out and face them.
Now you look for something else to do.
You found that something; hide.
Red and blue lights outline the window panes.
It’s time to play the riskiest game of hide and seek.
You’re quickly found hiding in the kitchen.
Which isn’t too far from the bathroom.
You make the worst call to your parents.
They have never been this disappointed.
How could you let them down like that?
The second your front door opens,
You run up to your room with
Tears streaming down your face.
You cover your shaking body with covers.
You can’t face them anymore.
Your reputation is out the window.
They will never trust your innocence.
They will never trust your story.
They will never trust you, period.
Those days are over.
I hope it was worth it.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.