Ruthie (from Queen of the Late Bloomers) Post #2 - "Social Suicide"

Ok, let’s get this straight.  I realize I’m no party animal, but I didn’t think I was a complete social retard.  For once, I’m thanking God that Kelli’s at church camp because she’d kill me for going to Chrissy Fletcher’s party in the first place, and she’d kill me again for using the word retard.

Here’s the short version of what happened the other night at Chrissy’s house.  First, the good news – I got invited to a party, which I took as a good sign, even though it was at Chrissy’s.  And going to parties is at the top of the list of my grand plan for climbing the high school social ladder.  

Second, the bad news – actually, the rest is bad news.  The whole thing was a colossal screw up to the 10th degree. 

It started with me not realizing the stupid Kool-Aid was spiked.  I should have known something was up because what teenager serves Kool-Aid at a party?  It’s so second grade.  So, thanks for that, Chrissy. 

And it ended when Mike caught me in the middle of taking off my slightly padded swimsuit top in order to play naked Marco Polo.  Big shout out to Trevor Miller for suggesting that game.  What a perv.    

It was humiliating enough that my older brother busted through Chrissy’s back gate and yelled at me in front of everyone!  But when I realized I was the ONLY girl taking of my top, I knew I’d been set up. 

Mike will not tell Mom.  I know this.  But, I’m seriously thinking whatever punishment she could dole out would be way better than the disappointment in my brother’s eyes when he realized I’d been drinking.  Mike even dropped the F bomb on me and then he said something about “the crap Mom goes through with Grandma Elle.”  At the time I didn’t really think about it because I was drowning in my own embarrassment.  But now I’m wondering what he meant and I’m too scared to bring it up.  Plus, I’d just like to forget the whole terrible night.

I can’t blame Mike, though. Even though I know he drinks sometimes with his friends, I’m positive he’s never been caught in a situation like I was at Chrissy’s.  And we both know Mom goes absolutely ballistic about drinking.  All because her brother died in a car crash.  He was 16 and drunk. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven him. But come on, it’s not like I knew the Kool-Aid was spiked.  And let’s remember, I don’t have a driver’s license yet, so I couldn’t have driven if I wanted to.   

The sad truth is: I know there’s no chance I would have gone to Chrissy’s party if Kelli had been home.  But man!  What are the odds I’d get invited to a party - at Chrissy’s or anywhere else - this early in the summer?    

Chrissy has hated Kelli since fourth grade when Kelli flipped a ketchup soaked tater tot in her hair.  And here’s the best part:  Kelli was sticking up for me.  At lunch, for no good reason, Chrissy announced to a new girl, named Maxine, that my dad died and I was still going to a shrink. And that’s when Kelli let the tater tot fly!  Unfortunately, Kelli got sent to the principal’s office, but I’m the one who got in trouble with my mom.  Go figure that one out.   

I’m smart enough to know the whole scene at Chrissy’s was a set up that resulted in social suicide, which I’ll be dealing with for the rest of my life.  But now I have to tell Kelli the second she gets home from church camp.  I can’t let her hear about it from some jack ass who wasn’t even there.  Maybe I should write to her, but what would I say in a letter? And I don’t even know if she can get letters at church camp purgatory.  Apparently, she’s supposed to be focused on the Holy Spirit.   

I really want to talk to Mike about it, but it’s clear he’s pretty much disgusted with me right now.  So, I’ve tried calling Grandma Elle, but she didn’t answer her phone.  And even if I wanted to talk to my mom about it, and hell would freeze over before that happens, I bet (after she freaks about the drinking and grounds me forever) she’d say. “Onward.”  It’s her advice for everything.  But, guess what.  There’s no moving forward after social suicide.