I really am not that much of a partier, yet some people think that I am. On our last day at Miami, Jaden and I had a meal with two people we only saw very occasionally throughout the school year. They asked me how many days out of the year I’ve been sober, which kind of caught me off guard.

Maybe it’s because I go to a top party school in the US or because I’m in a sorority. Or maybe it’s because on the nights I do go out, I get really social. Because I get really drunk. And that’s just my drunk persona I guess.

But, to be honest, I never so much as tasted alcohol until the July after I graduated. And, even then, I probably only went to 4 parties that summer, and at school I don’t go out more than once a week. I’ve never gone out on a weeknight (besides GBD), and I don’t go out every weekend.

I’m a homebody for many reasons–mostly self-esteem involved–but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m not the kind of person who has more drunk days than sober days at college. And I’m certainly not the kind of person who would throw a party the second that her parents go out of town.

But when Sean came downstairs and said it’d be hilarious if I invited some friends over to party with his friends, I didn’t even hesitate. I just started texting.

Now, this is weirder than it sounds, because Sean and I have never really gotten along. In fact, he just recently told me that his friends know me as “the bitch.” This is in part due to my junior high days, as well as in part due to his exaggerations and the fact that none of them really know me, but I didn’t even give it a second thought. Instead, I just co-hosted a house part that comprised of the weirdest group of people.

We had Sean’s friends and mine, as well as some people I had never seen before, and others that just came and left before I even realized they were there. But it wasn’t a huge party by any means–and I’m fortunate. Nobody got hurt. Nobody called the cops. Nothing major happened.

I locked myself out of my room and lost my phone for most of the night. I found various hats and headbands to try on and I cleaned up someone’s pee. It was just your average party.

And we had all day Sunday to clean up–which we utilized. We swept and vacuumed and mopped and sanitized. We filled three trash bags and I assumed that Sean would be the one to take them to the dumpster. After all, he had been through this before. He’d already done this charade–I was the newbie. But he thought it was my job because we put them on the first floor, which was my responsibility. So we both went to bed figuring that we’d just take care of it the next morning, since our parents weren’t coming home until the afternoon.

Flash-forward to 10:40 the next morning, when my mom is yelling, “we’re home!”


I get a text from Sean.

Mom is home. 

Is everything good? 

I’ll take the fall for it

What’s wrong??

Beer cans downstairs


I’m just gonna say we were drinking while playing poker last night. 

Tell Sarah so she doesn’t say anything. 

Now, I was really impressed with Sean’s selfless offer, but my mind was still reeling with everything we might have forgotten. Are there beer bottles upstairs? Does the kitchen still smell like beer? Did anyone take out the trash bags??


So my parents finally arrive home after waking up at 5AM and driving the 6 hours from Canada, and the first thing they see are three trash bags that reek of alcohol and are filled with bottles.

And then my little sister comes barreling through, unaware of the scene she just walked into, and goes on to confess to everything that happened over the weekend.

Yeah, we couldn’t get to her in time.

But I think in the end, it’s better that they know it all. And I’m glad we can be done with the lying.

So that’s kind of the whole story up to this point. We got the expected disappointed speeches about how disrespectful this was and do we know how much trouble Dad, as a very well-known doctor in this town, could get into? And, of course, how we’re never being left home alone again.

But I feel like the story isn’t finished yet. This was just the beginning of what is supposed to be my last summer at home, and I think we might’ve just altered the dynamic in a way that can’t be repaired. And even though we spent all of yesterday cleaning, our parents have made it known that our punishment has yet to really begin.

So the true moral may be clearer in hindsight, but I still decided to ask my siblings what they think the lesson here is. My brother says he’ll never trust me with any ounce of responsibility ever again. My sister says she’ll never ever lie to our parents ever again. And I think it could be a lot of things. Maybe I should be more respectful, or more careful. Maybe I should just think things all the way through from now on.

But I certainly know I’ll never throw a party at this house ever again. Because it’s just not worth it.