A Small Voice

Chapter Five

"A man that hath friends must shewhimself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than abrother." Proverbs 18:24

Rachel and I arrived with the party in full swing. The cottage, a quaint cedar A-frame with large windows and a weathered deck, faced a small lake, and the sunset cast a magical orange sparkle on each cresting wave. A bunch of dudes tossed a football, half of them with their shirts off, and young girls sipping wine coolers together pretended to have no interest in them while sneaking mischievous glances. It was like a scene from a frat movie, only this time I was in it.

"Come meet my friends," Rach said.

We followed a grassy, root-filled path to the deck. "Rachel, you made it!" one of the girls yelled.

"Hell, yeah I did, and I brought a boy! This is Daniel. We work together at Charlie's Coffee Shop. Dan, this is Cindy, Tina, and Lauren."

"Hi," Cindy said.

"Nice to meet you, Dan," Tina said.

"Hey," Lauren said.

They looked me over. "So, this is the Dan we hear so much about." Cindy said. "Well, you're definitely a looker."

I could feel my face turning red. "Nice to meet you, ladies."

They gave a sweet, collective "Aww," the kind of sound a girl would make if she found a lost puppy on the side of the road. I felt my cheeks flush even deeper.

"Sorry," Rachel said when she realized I was embarrassed. "It's just that guys from our school don't talk as politely to girls as you do."

I smiled at her. I wanted her to understand I was okay and didn't need sympathy. The only problem was the fact that I felt out of place. I had never been to a party, much less one with dozens of teens I didn't know. Regret seeped in, a feeling that I shouldn't have left my comfort zone, and I started to feel anxious and a little short of breath. I wished we were still driving in the Colt, just Rachel and me, listening to music.

Rachel seemed to sense my struggle. She grabbed me by the arm. "Come with me, Dan. These girls are molesting you with their eyes." Tina jokingly gave Rach the finger, and Rach whispered in my ear. "You need a drink."

"But I don't drink."

"I know, just this time, make an exception. You look really uncomfortable, and it'll help you relax." She led me to a blue chest filled with cans and bottles on ice. "You'll like this one. It tastes like lemonade and has just a bit of alcohol."

I would usually have said no, but my intuition told me her solution was my best bet. Panic was heading toward me like a fast moving train, and I knew from experience it would bring with it a full-blown attack.

"Okay," I said, taking the wine cooler and drinking the whole thing in two gulps. Rach looked at me with amusement.

"Maybe just one more, and you should be fine for the rest of the party."

"All right." I didn't protest. I opened another and sat on an old, paint-peeled wooden bench. It took me a bit longer to get the second one down, but not by much.

"Feel better?" Rach was holding back laughter. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. You just got so nervous all of a sudden."

"I guess I'm not great with new people." I laughed a bit longer than I normally would have. I looked up at Rachel's pretty eyes. They held such a genuine look. Her pouty lips were painted the usual vibrant red, and she was biting her bottom lip, trying not to crack up when despite our best efforts, we both burst out giggling at the same time. "Those lemonades are really good!" I wheezed. "I need one more."