Where We Begin

Chapter 9 - I'm Not Invited To This Party

July 4th, 2002 - Busta

Hours after my talk with Buddy, I was still sitting around the house. This was definitely not the big change I promised I would make, but hey, at least I left my room and made it down to the den, and swapped my video games for cable TV. Baby steps.

I actually had been pretty psyched about my talk with my brother. I really thought we might have a good ol' fashioned Busta/Buddy night out, but there was no way I was going to that party. Wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. Couldn't pay me a million dollars. Not if it was the last party on Earth.

My mom popped into the room. "Simon, sweetie, can you give your brother a ride to that party? Ivy and I are going out tonight."

"You can't be serious." I glared at her. 

"Very serious. Just because you refuse to make plans doesn't mean the rest of us have to," she said sternly. "Don't you see a problem here? I'm supposed to be catching you sneaking in from parties, not encouraging you to go to them."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not invited to this party."

"Your brother says everyone is invited." 

"Trust me, I'm not." 

She let out a heavy sigh. "Whatever you say. Just drop him off."

"Do I at least get to take the BMW again?" I asked hopefully. 

She took the keys to her Camry out of her purse, tossed them over to me and went back to the kitchen. I turned off the TV and followed her to find Aunt Ivy and Buddy standing around the island too.

"We are meeting some friends in Camarillo for dinner, but will probably go out for a drink afterwards. We might be home late, but I expect you boys home by 11," my mom said. "And by expect, I mean it wouldn't be awful to be surprised for once." 

"Have fun boys!" Aunt Ivy called, as they both headed out the door.

I turned to Buddy. "Are you ready to go? I'd like to get this over with." 

"Are you sure you don't want to come? I mean, it's going to be a huge party. Maybe you won't even see Taylor," he suggested.

"And if I do, she will probably tear my head off in front of my entire new school." 

"The old Busta wouldn't care about that. We used to sneak into plenty of places we weren't supposed to be. Now you're scared about some girl yelling at you? Kinda lame, if you ask me."

Buddy was straight up challenging me, but he had a point. I got up and started heading to the back staircase. 

"Hey where are you going?" he called after me.

"The new Busta isn't scared of girls either, but even he knows that to crash a party, he shouldn't be free balling in sweatpants."

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later, we were parked on the corner of Hollywood Ave. The street was packed with cars and you could hear the music and voices all the way down the block. This was beginning to feel like a really bad idea. 

"You coming, or what? My friends are already here," Buddy sighed. 

"You go ahead, I think it's better if I go in alone. Lay low." Or I could turn this car around, go home and lay very low. In my bed. In the dark. Forever. 

Buddy shook his head at me. "You better not chicken out." 

He got out and headed toward the party. When did my baby brother become cooler than me?