You're Not The Only Professional Party-Crasher in Town

Chapter One

Of course you've crashed teenage parties before, but this time it's different. Not only because you're just going for a bit of a snoop instead of planning full on pranks to trick the drunk, but because your wise and most trusted companion isn't here to laugh with you.

Yes, that's right, Thomas got invited out with a girl, it's like he actually has a life. You squirm closer to the side of the train-seat as another man decides to squeeze himself in the middle, pressing himself against you. You scowl at the man and try your best to not feel violated.

That's another thing that will be different about tonight, you won't have your usual get-away car that belongs to Thomas. Yes, that's also right, you do not own a car. You use your mother's car but of course you're not stupid enough to use it for this and besides, you're only allowed it on weekends, Friday not counted, since she's at work practically all night every night.

The only thing you know about this party is that it's an Eastbay party, which means it will be in the poshest area of the East-side and there will probably be some top-notch alcohol too. The only problem is that to go to one of these Eastbay parties is you actually have to be invited, however, you're a party-crasher and everyone knows party-crashers do not need an invitation. Besides, everyone will be pretty drunk by now as it's almost eleven-thirty at night.

As soon as the train rattles to a stop, you immediately exit the carriage and vow to never ever use public transport ever again. Every time that man's face comes into vision you shudder and hope your future self makes better decisions next time.

A breeze blows on the back of your neck so you tug up your black hood, of course you're not dressed appropriately and if this wasn't an alcoholic filled party then you would surely stick out like a sore thumb, but with everyone intoxicated, it doesn't matter. No one will care about your choice of jeans or jumper, they're all going to be falling on their faces or asses; maybe in their own vomit if you're lucky.

You hear the music before you spot the house, and you're right, this is a very fancy house probably belonging to a very fancy person who's very fancy parents are out of town for the weekend. You slide along the wet-slicked grass and head for the side of the house. They won't notice your arrival if you go in through the front door like every other ordinary person but it's more thrilling to enter through a window. You climb up the side of the house with the help of a conveniently placed pipe with metal bits sticking into the walls. Your steps are small and relatively light but you're not worried, you've done this thousands of times before.

You reach the top and sneak in a glance, thankfully no one is in the room. You remember back to a time when there was no other choice but to enter through a window where a couple were hooking up, quite radically too. They squealed and shouted but most of all, they were naked and laughing hysterically. Luckily they were intoxicated and possibly high.

After prying the window open, you push it up and roll in, landing softly on the floor. You stay in a crouch for the moment just in case and then you slowly rise to your feet and choke back a gasp as you come face-to-face with a blonde-headed and brown-eyed boy that gives you quite the suspicious glare.

"Can I help you?"

You blink, frozen in fear, "You're not drunk."

"Thanks for the observation."

You walk up to the boy who stands in the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. You glance over his shoulder and see people walking by, or more like stumbling by. "I was just leaving." You try to step past him but he blocks the entryway.

"You came in through the window."

"I needed some fresh air."

"There's no balcony."