“It’s a big, raucous house party of drunken high-school students. Describe the scene in three ways: as one of the teens attending the party, as the police officer called to the scene, and as a parent of one of the teens.”
TEEN: I didn’t mean for it to happen. My parents were out of town so I thought I would have a few friends over to keep me company. I didn’t care that they brought alcohol. I was curious to try it. But after a few drinks we came up with the stupid idea of inviting more people over. They invited people as well and soon enough my house was crowded with what felt like the entire high school. I tried to loosen up and have a good time but people were getting into things they shouldn’t have, there was food and garbage everywhere, and at one point I found myself praying to the porcelain god. That’s such a weird saying but so beside the point. Anyways, what really sucked was hearing the siren and seeing the red and blue lights flashing outside my window. That’s when I knew my life was over.
POLICE OFFICER: Not another one, I thought as I slid into the driver’s seat. My partner, Malone, was already in the car waiting for me, shaking his head with a smirk. “Kids these days,” he said as if he wasn’t the smartass twenty-something sitting beside me.
“Mhm,” I agreed, starting the car. I didn’t bother with the lights and siren just yet. Breaking up an underage party wasn’t that pressing.
“You think living in a small town they’d learn by now,” Malone continued.
I sighed and shook my head. “It’s living in a small town that makes them feel invincible. They think just because their parents know the sheriff they can get away with anything.”
“But it’s kinda true. How many kids have you seen brought down to the station? We’re not really going to cuff John White’s girl, are we? When has she ever done anything wrong?”
“Tonight,” I said, turning on the siren and lights as I turned the corner onto the White’s street.
PARENT: “We’re going home now,” I said, throwing clothes into my suitcase as I glared at my husband.
“But Anne,” he objected, still lying on the bed. “We just got here. This was supposed to be our weekend.”
“Yes, but then our daughter threw a party and probably trashed the house.”
“I don’t think Jill is at fault here. Not our little girl.”
I stopped packing and rested my hands on my hips. “That may be true but the cops were called, John. What’s if they arrest Jill? I can’t imagine my baby sleeping in a cell.” My eyes burned with tears and I quickly wiped them away.
“Hey,” my husband said, getting off the bed to wrap me in a hug. “We’ll go back, okay? We can get away another time.”
“Are you sure…?” I asked, looking up at my husband’s comforting smile.
“I’m sure. Now, let’s go break Jilly out of jail.”