Memory Lane

Chapter Thirty Seven

"We love the things we love for what they are." - Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Thirty Seven

By 9:00, the party is in full swing. Surprisingly, no one had trouble with Quinn's directions on both the appropriate attire for the party nor how to get here. The entire junior and senior class does their job in treating this like a student-run prom; every girl is wearing a floor-length gown and almost every guy is wearing either a suit or a dress shirt and nice pants. It makes me wonder if they even had photo-opts.

"How much alcohol did you manage to get, anyway?" Allen asks as he fills up his cup with the concoction Quinn put together in one of the large orange Gatorade coolers.

"I got three handles of Vodka. Should make, like, five or six coolers of drinks if I make the mix right. I'm just hoping that's enough... No clue how many cups that'll make."

Kendall glances at the coolers, pursing her lips. "Six coolers that are- what? Five gallons each? 128 fluid ounces per gallon, so that makes..." She pauses, scrunching her nose. "Like, 640 fluid ounces per cooler, times another six gets us..." her eyes close for a moment, "3,840 fluid ounces total."

Allen adjusts his glasses and glances at his cup. "The average solo cup holds about 16 fluid ounces. So, that's... 240 drinks total. And that's only if every person fills their cup up to the 16oz line, too."

"That will definitely be enough," Kendall says.

"Especially since the junior and senior classes combined are nearly 150 students, and not everyone is going to show up tonight," Allen finalizes.

I just stare at the two of them. Blink. Stare again. "You just did all of that in your head?"

"Yeah?"

I frown. "I'm still trying to multiply five times 128."

"Math team, remember?"

"Anyway," Jesse pulls us away from the math lesson. "How did you manage three handles, Quinn? That's nearly a hundred dollars for liquor alone."

"Then the decorations, your dress, everything else... Quinn, this had to have been expensive," I add. 

"Birthday money for the last three years, remember?"

"Still, do you want us to chip in?" I offer.

"Absolutely not."

Allen chuckles, lifting his cup. "Cheers to you, Quinn. I can't believe you pulled this off."

Despite the lack of a need to drive, I have still chosen to opt out of drinking tonight. For the last couple of months, I have been going to these parties without drinking and have been having a great time regardless. So, instead of lifting a cup filled with a mixed drink, Jesse and I raise our glass bottles of root beer that Quinn was kind enough to get for us.

"Really, Quinn. This is amazing," I agree. "I have to admit, I wasn't sure this party was going to come to fruition."

"You guys have such little confidence in me," she mutters, gently elbowing the two of us. "This is our eighteenth celebration! There was no way I wasn't going to make it work."

Then, she shares a look with Jesse and a confirmatory nod. He lifts his drink in thanks before taking a casual sip. I eye them, pursing my lips behind my bottle.

"Oh my God," Kendall suddenly exclaims.

At the entrance to the party, in walks Stalker Shay herself wearing a dress nearly identical to mine. Really, it can't be that rare to find another solid black dress with a V-Neck, so I shouldn't feel surprised. Next to her, chivalrously holding his arm out for her to daintily rest her hand on, is Sandy Hair Steven. He's sporting a pair of nice dress pants and a white button down, sans jacket. He looks nice, but nowhere near as good as Jesse.