Tolerance

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“That party on Saturday was insane. Did you see Amy? She got wrecked.”
“Yeah, I heard she got pretty crazy at Austin’s. Didn’t she make out with, like three people?”
“Dude, it had to have been at least five.”
“Jeez. I’m pretty sure she ended up puking too, man, she was out of control.”


They didn’t know I was walking right behind them. Monday mornings, always played out the same, reliving the memories from the weekend. We’d sit in study hall laughing at how funny everyone had been at wherever the party was, and, believe me, I was always one of the craziest. I mean, I’d been doing this since freshman year; it was nothing new to me. But this had never happened before. I had never actually heard people talking about me while I wasn’t right there laughing with them. It was a weird feeling. I knew they meant no harm; they were two of my best guy friends. I wasn’t hurt or angry or upset, but suddenly I knew how people saw me. The first person to call for plans; the one they could always count on to make the night fun. The party girl.


I wasn’t always like this. Private school since kindergarten, good relationship with my parents, decent grades; never had a reason to rebel. The day I was thrown into high school everything changed. I broke out of my shell, talked to everyone, made a ton of friends. I loved high school. I never really cared what people thought of me, I have a group of friends who will always be there for me. It wasn’t until today that I realized how everyone who didn’t know me would remember me. This was the reputation I had created for myself, whether I meant to or not. Sometimes I wonder if it all would have ended up differently, had I made a few decisions differently. But, it’s a little to late to think about that, anyways. This is who I am now, and I guess I have no choice but to own it.


I come up between them, hook my arms through theirs, and lean my head on one of their shoulders.


“So where’s the party at this weekend?”





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