July/August's Monthly Mediator writing challenge. Enjoy and learn to read the labels on bottles (or learn the hard way like some of us!)

"Come on. Have one drink with us. Just one."

I knew all of the statistics on peer pressure. I knew all of the stats on teenage drinking too. In fact, I was well informed of the stats on teenage drinking in eight other developed nations. Having read many scientific studies on the loss of brain cells a night of drinking could induce, as well as the percentages of teenage injuries that occurred as a result of underage drinking, including, but not limited to alcohol poisoning and death, I could spit these facts out to anyone who wanted to hear them.

Yes, I knew the facts. But the facts simply did not detract from the actuality that, for once, just once in my short life, I wanted my big brother to think I was cool. So, after swallowing down the nerve-induced vomit I rising in the back of my throat and ignoring all common sense, I stammered out a weak, 'S-s-s-sure.'

Brad looked mildly surprised, yet slapped me on the back and turned me to his friends and announced, 'For one day only, David is joining the land of the Cool.'

In the background, several of his wrestling buddies chuckled and hooted while their girlfriends laughed lightly and whispered amongst themselves.

It was 11 am on the first Saturday of the summer break. I would be leaving for camp on Monday and I knew Brad would be spending his summer in school, trying to pass the many classes he had failed and, when not slaving over homework, he would be helping dad install a hot tub. In fact, mom and dad were away at a home reno convention three hours away, promoting dad's show and looking for the perfect hot tub for the back deck. They left before 7 am and weren't expected back until close to midnight. Suze and Jake were at work at the Pebble Beach Hotel and Golf resort and I was planning on heading out to the library to get a head start on writing an undecipherable computer code. I planned on winning first place this year in the camp's annual competition.

I ran down the stairs and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the living room full of Brad's friends. I looked twice at the clock, wondering what a group of teenagers would be doing up at 11 in the morning on the first Saturday of the summer break when most of them wouldn't get up before 4 pm if they didn't have to.

'What's everyone doing here Brad?' I asked as he came out to the kitchen when he saw me appear.

'Well, there's no way that I can have a night time party with mom and dad always hanging around,' he answered. 'So I decided to have one during the day. Oh don't look at me like that,' he said, responding to the wary look I know I gave him. 'The house will be clean and everyone will be out long before anyone gets home. No one will ever know that anyone but us were here, right David?' Brad's voice took on a warning tone that I had heard many times before and had long since learned that it was in my best interest to heed his warnings. Unless, of course, I actually wanted to be pounded on in the middle of the night or find some of my computer programs 'accidentally' erased.

'No problem Brad. I was just on my way to the library. I'll head over to Alex's house afterward and have dinner there.' I began trying to make my way around the various bodies sprawled around our living room watching the big screen t.v. Some of them hadn't even changed out of their pajamas. They must have stumbled over here immediately after waking.

'Why don't you stay and enjoy the day with us?' Brad asked. He had followed me into the living room, calling out just loud enough that everyone had stopped talking and turned to stare at us. Without needing a mirror to look in, I knew my face was redder than the shirt I was wearing. "Come on. Have one drink with us. Just one."

And so that was how I found myself drinking a shot of Jack Daniels straight with 15 pairs of eyes all glued to me, waiting for my reaction. While there was much debate over what my 'first real drink' should be, Brad's friend Wayne helpfully suggested Jack Daniels.

'If he can live through his first shot of JD, then he can survive almost anything. Besides,' he grinned and winked at Brad, 'it's sure to put some hair on his chest. Maybe even his balls.'

A lot of hooting and hollering ensued, and though I had never done a great deal of research into the different shades of crimson a person could turn as a result of embarrassment, I was pretty sure I had just turned them all.

A shot glass was put in my hand and filled right to the top. I steeled my nerves and willed myself to neither spit it out nor throw up on myself or anyone else.

'3…2….1…GO!' Everyone counted down and I knew there was no way I would ever get out of this one without experiencing humiliation that would be sure to follow me around the halls of the Junipero Serra Mission Academy in the fall.

I threw my head back and drained the glass in one second flat. I immediately regretted the 'do it quick like ripping a bandage off' strategy I had employed. The liquid burned my throat as if it had been set on fire before I drank it. I coughed and sputtered, still willing myself not to puke.

'S-s-s-m-mooth,' I choked out when I knew I could talk without projectile vomiting. This sent the group into peels of laughter.

'Nice work buddy.' Brad thumped me on the back pretty hard and I had to work on not choking again. 'Why don't you stay with us a while?'

Brad was inviting me to hang out with them. I wondered if I had misheard him, if somehow, that one small shot had already affected my hearing.

'Ooookaay,' I hesitated. 'I just need something to wash down that drink.' Brad went to sit on the couch and I ran to the fridge and grabbed the first drink I could find—Mike's Lemonade. Hopefully it would take the taste of whiskey out of my mouth.

Still nervous that I had misunderstood Brad's invitation, I was relieved when he looked up and said to his friends, 'You probably all know David. David, this is everyone.'

He proceeded to point out and name everyone. He ended with the girl on the couch closest to where I stood. Her name was Sarah, his teammate, Sean's, little sister. She gave me a little wave and motioned to the empty seat beside her. I sat down on the edge of the couch, muttering a quiet 'thanks' and chugged half of my lemonade to erase all traces of liquor on my breath.

I had decided my best course of action would to pretend to be invisible. If no one paid much attention to me, I could not embarrass myself or Brad, thereby securing a potential future invitation to another one of his 'parties'. Or, at the very least, maybe he would actually say hello to me at school and call me by my actually name instead of 'geek', 'dweeb', or the one he said under his breath thinking that I couldn't hear, 'loser'.

Some of the girls were talking and giggling to themselves while the guys were talking about future wrestling matches, the best local beaches for waves and the amount of beer they would drink when the season was done.

I wondered what it would be like to be a part of a crowd like this—the 'popular' crowd. I have some really great friends, and we all have our love of science and computers in common. But we didn't talk like these guys did. Maybe we were still at an awkward age. I found myself wishing that for even 10 minutes, I could have a fraction of the confidence Brad and his friends did.

The boy named Sean broke my thoughts. 'Now we're talking. Babewatch is on!'

All male conversation ceased as they gazed, slightly slack-jawed at the screen. Well, everyone but Brad and his friend, Brody. They continued talking to each other, heads close together.

The shouting that occured when Pamela Anderson arrived on screen up nearly deafened me.

'What I wouldn't give to get my hands on those!' Sean yells. The guys catcalled words of agreement, some of them receiving a shot in the arm from their girlfriends.

'You know, despite the human male species preoccupation with breast size, studies show that no single breast size is superior to the other when it comes to breast feeding. An 'A' cup is just as capable of successfully nursing a child as a 'D' cup.' NOOOOOOO. I did NOT just say that out loud. Aaaaaaarrrrrr. What was I thinking?

Everyone stopped and looked at me. There was a second of silence before Brad quietly mumbled, 'David likes to read a lot.'

The guy sitting closest to the t.v., Will, saved my day when he laughed and said, 'Yeah but Pam's size is just about right for feeding me!'

The girls groaned and the guys launched into a series of rude commentary that lasted for the rest of the show. I made a hasty retreat to the kitchen for another lemonade. It was quenching the thirst in my throat, but I could still feel the heat of the Jack Daniel in my belly. I hoped another cold drink would settle it.

Mercifully, none of the guys made any comments to me when I returned to the living room. Flipping between the 'Baywatch' marathon and several sports channels, everyone was engaged in conversations. Well, everyone but Sarah. She turned to me as soon as I sat back down.

'So, you're, like, pretty smart, right?' She had a soft, shy voice. I turned to look at her and actually noticed her for the first time. She was really really pretty with bright blue eyes and shoulder length, blond curly hair. She had a lot of freckles across her nose and a dimple on the right side of her mouth when she smiled. I knew she went to my school, but hadn't really noticed her before since she was a couple of grades ahead of me.

'Uh..um..well, yeah, I guess.' One word answers. Speak as little as possible David. Do not put your foot in your mouth again.

'I've seen some of your science fair projects at school…'and Sarah was off and running. She talked really fast, a lot like Suze, but her voice was so melodic, it sounded a little like music.

I found it a little difficult to follow what she was saying. Between her fast speech and the speed at which she switched topics, from science to books to movies, I was lucky to insert even my one word comments here and there. I hoped what was answering made sense. My mind wandered as I began to wonder if she would mind the 2 years age difference between us.

'Can I get you a drink?' Good job David, I thought. You said more than one word without screwing up.

'Sure, I'd love a diet Coke.'

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I reached over and gave her hand a squeeze before I got up.

'No problemo.' Ohh. That was a little lame. I hoped she didn't notice that I walked into the door frame as I went into the kitchen to get the drinks.

Grabbing another lemonade and her diet Coke, I felt light headed when I stood up. The room spun for an instant, but it quickly stopped when I grabbed the counter.

I slowly made my way back to the couch and handed Sarah her pop. Actually, I accidentally dropped it in her lap. Luckily, it wasn't open.

'Oooppsss. S-s-s-sorry about that,' I laughed. I started giggling and I couldn't seem to stop myself.

Luckily, Sarah thought this was funny too.

'I can be a little clumsy sometimes too,' she admitted.

This made me laugh even harder. I was trying to catch my breath when one of the girls screamed out 'Change the channel. CHANGE THE CHANNEL! That ghost show gives me the heebie jeebies.'

The boys started laughing and began launching into stories about the girls' change room at school being haunted.

'David believes this house is haunted,' Brad told the group. They all turned to look at me.

'Yesh itsh true.' My words weren't coming out quite right. My mouth felt very slow. 'Suzshe knows it is too.'

Brad got up out of his chair, walked across the room and stood in front of me. 'How much have you had to drink?' he demanded.

I layed back on the couch. The room was spinning a little again, but I wanted to make sure that everyone knew I wasn't crazy. Our house was haunted.

'Noooo Brad. Itsh trooo. Suze talks ghosts.' I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt. 'Jush don't tell her I told you.' Wow. I felt foggy and sleepy.

Sarah stood up to answer Brad. 'He only had the one drink you gave him. He's been drinking lemonade the rest of the time.' I saw her point to the three empty bottles beside the couch.

Brad pulled me up off the couch, keeping a strong hold on my shirt. 'Oh man! Those are alcoholic drinks dude! You've had, like, four drinks in 2 hours. I am dead if you don't get sober before everyone gets home!'

'I'm fiiiinne.' Ooppsss. Maybe not. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Brad threw my arm around his shoulder and started walking me out of the living room.

'Bye David.' I heard Sarah's voice sing to me from the background.

'You're beeyoootiffulllll!' I shouted.

Laughter picked up again in the background. Brad chuckled under his breath. 'Easy there Romeo.'

I stopped moving my feet and turned to Brad. I tried whispering, but it seemed hard to control my volume.

'You have to lissstenn Brad. Suzshe does talk to ghosts. One lives in her bedroom. A ghosht named Jesshe. He's friends with her and he even talked to meee….' I could feel myself fading fast.

Brad started me walking again. 'Wow, Suze has you snowed. She's been letting a guy sneak in her room and has told you it's a ghost.' He laughed. 'That's kinda low, takin' advantage of you being so gullible. I'm almost proud of her for pulling it off this long. Now that I know…..'

We reached my room and I could hear my bed screaming for me. Brad flopped me down on it and I could feel a soothing blackness coming over me. I opened my eyes before it took me away.

'Secret. Don't tell. Pleash don't tellll….' I couldn't form any more words. I was done. Just before I mercifully fell asleep, I felt Brad's hand tap me twice on the cheek.

'Ya did good, little dude. Not bad at all. You didn't even puke.' Brad's voice seemed further and further away. 'And now that I know about Suze's boyfriend..'

My last conscious thought was that Suze was going to kick my butt. But hearing Brad call me 'dude' was 100 percent worth it.

A/N Mike's Hard Lemonade is just that--some lemonade that will kick you in the head if you have more than 3. Trust me!