BooksBarbecue
Back The House Party
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. April 2008
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. Author’s Note
  55. Acknowledgments
  56. About the Author
  57. About the Publisher

“They called yesterday morning. They found the guy—that’s why I was so upset. They said I have to decide whether to press charges. My parents want me to, but I don’t know. Part of me just wants to move on. But the police said that since they have the pictures, there’s a good chance he’ll take a plea, and there won’t have to be a trial or anything like that.” She paused. “I know I’m not supposed to think this, but I still feel a little bit like it was my fault. I’m the one who took the ecstasy. I made myself a target.”

Will shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I could have drowned,” Maddie said, talking almost to herself. Her voice sounded drowsy. “I could have drowned in the canal. How stupid would that be?”

“Pretty stupid,” Will said, taking her hand. “Look, Maddie, if you need to get away from here, you should go,” he said. He only wished that he could do the same. But any hope of that had been extinguished when the police had turned up the garage door opener in the back of his truck. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Maddie’s eyes were closed now. Her breathing slowed, and he was pretty sure she was asleep. “I’ll miss you, though,” he said quietly.

He sat by her bed for a few more minutes, thinking. He made up his mind. He would take the plea deal. It would mean, he knew, losing out on Princeton. But it was better than risking a year or more in a jail cell, an idea that had seemed unimaginable to him a few months ago. When his sentence was finished, he would get away from here too. He couldn’t bear the thought of staying in town, nursing old wounds and drowning himself in beers at the local brewery, like his brother. He wouldn’t be heading to the Ivy League, but he could start over somewhere. One party, he thought, was all it had taken to derail everything. He wasn’t going to get away with it, but he knew he would eventually move past it, scars and all.

44

Trip O’Connor stubbed out his cigarette on the ground next to the hay bale he sat on and rolled another. He had to make a decision, and this time there was no easy answer. His lawyer had been clear: He should fight the charge, or he would serve his suspended sentence along with additional time. The more difficult question was how they were going to pay the lawyer, while still keeping up with the mortgage on the farm. Trip didn’t need a fancy college degree to know that the math just didn’t add up.