In this imagine you will be with regular ol'Tom and he will NOT be famous, also this party is taking place in a high school age range.
You could hear the sounds of teens laughing and having a good time; while some were sipping wine coolers, dancing, getting so drunk they forget their own name, or like me and my best friend Blake, sitting back to watch it all happen.
Although we were all doing different things, we didn't know is that in a few hours hours, all of us would be doing the same thing.
Running from the police.
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The party was in full swing, loud music practically shook the house, and the lights so dark you can barley see. Every few minutes I had to reach my hand out and touch Blake's arm to make sure that the party didn't sweep her away from me-and leave me talking to myself in a dark corner.
For a minute Blake and I stopped the flow of conversation, taking our time to watch everyone. My eyes focusing on a small boy in-particular, who was too drunk for his own good. His forehead has visible sweat dripping down and his face was turning green.
He was stumbling over his own feet he tried grasping the top of the mantle beside him for support. Family pictures decorated the top and so did a circular vase that looked like a black cookie jar. Above the cookie jar had a large portrait of a old lady, giving a rude look to anyone who dared glance up at her.
Sliding his hand over the wood of the mantle, he successfully knocked every picture on the ground; the glass in the frames now having small series of spider-webbed cracks. His hand bumped into the vase, but it hadn't fallen off with a light brush like the pictures.
Noticing he hadn't heard a crash yet, curiously he peeks on the shelf. He sees the jar he reaches over and picks it up, putting his ear to it as if it could speak. He swayed on his feet and opened up the jar.
Gasping, I watched as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the jar, a gray cloud exploded all over his face and hands. He looked like the chimney sweep from Mary Poppins.
I slowly turned to Blake, wondering if she was watching what I was. Blake's hand was clutching her face to stop the sound of laughter from escaping. I stared at Blake the whole time she laughed, clearly not as amused as she was.
Blake wiped her eyes, finally calming down from her laughing fit. Blake giggled once more before opening her mouth to comment on was just happened, but her eyes drifted to the windows. Blake left her mouth hanging opening and her eyes got so wide she scared me. Even in the darkness of the room, I was able to see the whites of her eyes.
I was about to ask her what was wrong, but then I saw bright red and blue flashing lights on the wall, streaming in through the window.
Not even five seconds after I realized what was going on the door slammed open, tiny pieces of wood flew through the air. The door was kicked with such a force that I'm sure the door knob was shoved into the plaster of the wall.
Blake grabbed my hand and turned around, most likely heading for the back door or even a window, my blood thumped throughout my body and I could hear my pulse in my ears as we pushed through random people. Everyone was still in shock but Blake wasn't, she was ready to flee the scene.
