Chapter One of Bush Party

    I didn't want to go out that Friday night.  I almost got killed at the 
last bush party and I still had bad dreams about it.  So I had a problem
when the phone rang after school.
    "Troy," the voice on the line said, "how're you doing?"
It was Colin, a guy who was with me the night of the accident.  Since
then, we had drifted apart.
    "I'm okay," I answered.  "What's up?"
"The usual, nothing special,"  he said.  "Haven't seen you around lately.
Things all right?"
    "Sure," I said.  "I've been busy though.  Got a job at Food Mart four
nights a week."
    "Great.  Making bucks and all that.  Hey, what are you doing tonight?"
Yeah right,, I thought, here it comes.
    "Not much," I said.  "I've got the night off.  Maybe I'll rent a video."
"And stay at home?" Colin laughed.  "Boring!  Look, there's a bush
party tonight, out by the river.  Want to go?"
    "No, I don't think so."
"Aw, why not?"
    "I don't feel good about doing that stuff anymore."
"What stuff?"
    I took a deep breath.  This wouldn't be easy.  "You know, drinking and
getting stupid.  That stuff."
    The line was quiet for a second.  Then Colin made a disgusted sound.
"I don't believe it.  You used to be the biggest party animal.  Nobody could
down a beer faster than Troy.  Hey, I saw you get wasted so many times, it-"
"That was before, Colin.  I'm trying something new."
    "Like what?"
"Like not drinking."
    "Never?"
"Maybe."
    This time he was quiet a lot longer.  I could hear him tapping on
something.
    "People have been asking about you," he said finally.  "They miss you."
I missed the old crowd too.  Sometimes I saw some of them playing pool
or at school, but never at parties.  I hadn't been to a party for months.
    "This will be a good party," Colin went on.  "It's out at the river.  Lots
of people, good times.   Nobody says you have to drink anything."
Most of my time was taken up with school, the part-time job, and
working on my car.  Maybe I was getting into a rut.
    "Okay," I heard myself say.
"All right!" Colin said.  "You won't be sorry."
    After supper I drove over to Colin's house.   I relaxed as soon as I got
into my car.  Red, low, and hungry for pavement, the '87 Mustang was made
for the highway.   A drive out to the river would be good for the 'stang.

    Colin jogged to the car as I pulled up.  He got inside and checked out
the interior.
    Hey, nice set of wheels," he said.  "How long you had it?"
"A few weeks.  The old one finally died."
    "The Brown Beast?  I'm surprised it lasted this long."  He laughed.
"I'll never forget the night you rolled it."
"It wasn't funny."
    He looked sideways at me.  "Hey, you're not letting that bother you?
The accident was almost six months ago."
    "We could have died,"  I said.  "I could have killed the people in that
other car too."
    "Troy, it was an accident.  You didn't mean to do it."
"I was drunk," I said.  "And stupid."
    Colin didn't answer and I put the car in gear.  The accident flashed
through my mind, the way it did in my dreams.
    We had left the bush party at the lake to get more food.  It was late,
dark, and I had at least a half dozen beer in me.  Enough booze to make me
think I knew what I was doing.
    I came around a curve, fast.  The dirt road was narrow, and I didn't
see the other guy's headlights until the last second.  Somebody in my car
yelled, "Look out!"
    I cranked the wheel hard and we shot off the road.  We just missed the
other car and flew into a field.  The last few seconds seemed to be in slow
motion.
    My old Dodge bounced once, and came down sideways.  Then it tilted
and I knew we were going to roll.  We went over on the passenger side, and
didn't stop.
    The car rolled onto its roof and I heard a boom and crash as the back
window blew out.  The car slowly fell over on my side and finally stopped.
    That was the dream I had too often.
Now Colin turned toward me.  "Nobody got hurt.  You're making too big
a deal about it."
    Colin had sure acted like it was a big deal that night.  When the car
had stopped moving, he threw open a back door and jumped out. Beside the
car, he dropped to his hands and knees and puked his guts into the weeds.
I decided not to remind him about that and we drove quietly for a
while.  We left the city and Colin pointed to a freeway exit.
    "Turn here," he said.  As I did, he asked, "What happened to Megan?  I
never see her anymore."
    Megan was the girl I used to go around with.  She was a lot of fun,
and could outdrink me and just about anybody else.  After the accident, I
decided to quit, but she didn't.   Finally, we broke up.  We didn't have
anything to share anymore.
    "I don't know where she is," I said.  "She dropped out of school.
Someone told me she moved back East, some place like Hamilton."
    Colin shook his head.  "You two were always together.  I used to think
you were perfect for each other."
    "So did I."  Thinking about her made a lot of stuff come back.
"You know," I said, "she was the only girl I ever really loved."
"Yeah?"  Some guys, like Colin, don't like to talk about love.
    He shifted, uneasy.  "Well, maybe you'll meet a girl at the party tonight.
Someone just as good."
    I didn't think so.  Before she had gotten so strung out, Megan had
been the best.  Nobody could ever take her place.
As things turned out, Colin was right.
    I would meet a girl at the bush party and fall in love again.  But there
was a catch.  First, she and I would have to face death together.

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