Everything Changes-The Summer I Turned Pretty

Eleven

Belly's the first person I'm left with. Her and Cameron are talking in the living room, Belly holding a cup and Cam empty-handed. Some girls are singing karaoke and other people are pushing against me or falling into me trying to get back to the kitchen for more drinks.

I feel like an ignored third-wheel, so I look around the crowd for one of the boys. I see Jeremiah and wave over my head until he sees us. He waves back, then steps up to the karaoke microphone.

"This is for Belly and Cam Cameron," he says and winks at me. Jeremiah whispers something to someone with an iPad and the song Summer Lovin' begins to play. Jere sings along, his voice terrible but nobody cares because it's Jeremiah Fisher and everyone loves him anyway.

Belly is blushing and tries to leave the room, but Cameron stays, laughing. "Belly, you don't think this is funny?"

Her face gets redder, probably from frustration on top of the embarrassment but she stays until the song is over. Then Jeremiah walks up to us, asks how we're doing, and offers to hang out with me next so they could have some alone time.

He brings me outside to a beer pong table.

"The key to winning beer pong is being sober. Then you can actually hit your target," Jeremiah tells me and we team up against two other boys around his age. The others have been drinking, so Jeremiah and I beat them pretty quickly. Steven must hear the noise of our celebration, because he shows up by us next.

"What's up, man!" he says to Jere, bringing him in for a bro hug. Some of the beer in his cup splashes out in the movement. "Where's Connie?"

Jeremiah shrugs. "Who cares? You having fun?"

Steven nods and the two of them fall into some conversation about the girls at the party.

I survey the crowd, just as large outside as it is inside and full of mostly older teens or people in their early twenties. I feel younger than usual here, even though I'm used to being the youngest out of Belly and the boys. I jump when Steven touches my arm.

"Wanna meet some of my buddies from the club?" he asks me.

"Sure," I say, feeling somewhat thankful for the supervision that I'm required to havet. I wonder if Mom and Laurel made them agree to this or if they came up with it themselves.

The people Steven brings me to are a bunch of guys playing poker, some with girlfriends sitting on their laps. I step awkwardly closer to Steven.

"This your little sister you were talking about?" one of the guys asks him.

Steven shakes his head. "This is Kristin Fisher, but she might as well be my extra sister. I mean, who's the one babysitting her now?" His sentence ends in laughter, from him and everyone else.

I slug him. "Really Steven?"

There's a little guilt in his eyes, but he keeps the joke going. He has to protect his ego. "She's such a handful, even her own brothers handed her off to me!"

"Screw off," I say and walk away. Steven starts saying something but I flip him off and keep going to who knows where.

I find myself back in the house. Music is blaring louder than last time and it feels more crowded. The chances of me finding my brothers or Belly in this mess are slim.

"Good," I mutter to myself and look for the kitchen. "If I don't have a babysitter then I can't be monitored on what I do and don't do."

I never drank before. I don't particularly enjoy being around drunks, I don't like it when my dad and Conrad drink, and I also never felt the taste for it. I grab the first bottle I feel in the cooler, not sure if it's something good or not, but figuring I'll give it a try.

Some guy raises his eyebrows at me and offers his bottle to cheer me. Someone else whispers something about me being a Fisher. A girl asks me if I don't like hard lemonade. Gosh, I think, if I knew there was hard lemonade I would've taken that instead.

I pop off my cap and take a swig of the beer, feeling it burn my throat on the way down. I stifle a cough and force a smile at the people around me.

I decide I don't like the attention and try to squeeze myself past that crowd. Unlike my brothers, who have always been either popular or very sociable, I've always been on the more shy, quieter side. It's only around them that I break out of my comfort zone, and this was definitely not it.

Despite my wanting to disobey everything the boys told me, I agree that finding a bedroom to hide in isn't the best idea. I continue to float around the crowd, looking for a familiar face–my brothers, Belly and Cam, even a debutante–and slowly sip my beer. It doesn't taste very good, but I kind of enjoy the way it seems to relax me. Maybe once I finish it, I'll find myself one of those lemonades.

The crowd seems to dwindle suddenly, and I feel even more alone than I did when I was lost in the mess of people. I follow the direction some people are facing and go back outside.

The yard is dense with people everywhere and I'm wondering what's exciting enough to draw out the whole crowd. People are murmuring and above that I hear yelling. I push myself through the people to see what's going on.

"You think you had enough to drink tonight, buddy?" shouts a deep voice. I stand on my tiptoes to see over the heads of those still in front of me. He's older than most at the party, but still young. He must be in his mid-twenties. His bicep is wrapped with a barbed wire tattoo. I struggle to see who he's talking to, but when someone in front of me shifts and I get a clear view.

It's Conrad.

"Knock it off, man!" he slurs, stumbling and reaching for the tatted guy.

The man lays his hands on Conrad and shoves him away. Conrad yells something else, but I don't hear it over the sound of myself.

"Conrad!" I scream as he stumbles backwards. I shove past people towards my brother.  "Stop it!" I beg as I trip over people in my way.

I see Belly near the front, making her way to Conrad, calling out something. I rush to beat her to the front.

"Connie," she says. "Come here and leave him alone!" Belly emerges from the crowd and reaches out towards him.

Somehow I'm there then too, and I grab her arm and pull her back. "I got it," I tell her harshly.

I can hear both Conrad's and the man's heavy breathing, can smell the alcohol on their breaths, and can feel the tension that a physical fight is about to break out. I run between them,  putting a hand on both their chests. "Stop!"

The man shoves my hand roughly away. Conrad grumbles and swings and the next thing I know is I'm on the ground, the side of my face throbbing. I reach up to touch it and feel my cheeks wet with tears. I don't move because of the broken glass scattered around me from my beer bottle that I must have dropped.

"Kristin," I hear Jeremiah whisper. I turn my head and see him crouched next to me. I sit up and fall into him, a mess of tears dampening his tee shirt. He strokes my hair for a few seconds, then pulls me onto my feet. "Conrad!"

Conrad's standing alone now, the man with the tattoo already lost in the crowd. His hands are hanging limply at his side and his mouth is slightly open. "Jere...Kris...I–"

"Save it," Jeremiah says and grabs his hand. He pulls both of us through the yard, emptier now that it was evident that no fights would be happening, and to his car. "Get in."

"Jere," Conrads starts again once he's inside.

Jeremiah shuts his door and looks at me.

"Really? A beer? And why were you there, in the middle of their fight?"

Tears threatened again but I held them in. "You know what? Maybe Conrad's the one who needs a babysitter. Not me."

Jeremiah sighs. "Kris, please,"

"Stop it, Jere. I just want to go home," I tell him. He sighs again but doesn't argue. I sit in the back with Conrad this time, leaving the passenger seat empty. Jeremiah texts Steven and tells him to find a new ride, and we leave. Just the three of us.