My name is Josh. I am 1.78 tall, so I wasnt the tallest around, but I can’t complain. I regularly attend the gym, so I am fit. I have short blond hair, green eyes and all together am not bad…not bad at all.
As for my social status..well, it wasnt great back then. I studied programming and hung around all sorts of people, but many people disliked me. It might have been because of my honesty. I was never afraid to say what I thought.
At the age of 17 I though it had to be the best year of high school ever, but it didnt stop then. A year would have been too short a time for all that happened.

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Part 1

Driving my car, thinking about god knows what, I almost missed my friend Steve’s house. He had a big party going on, parents away for two weeks and all. I looked for a place to park, but there were way to many cars, so I ended up parking two streets further. I got out and started walking back to the house.

Even though I was still not close, I could hear the music. Not as loud as I would have expected, but loud enough. Up on the lawn in front of the house was my best high school friend Steve.

‘Nice party you got goin’ here, mate’ I shouted on my way to him. As usual, he already had a chick next to him, looking like she would hump him right there and then. ‘Lucky bastard’ I thought.
‘Oy there, Josh. You comin’ so late? The hell have you been?’ He stood up and went my way.
‘Just the car. I ran out of gas half way here.’
‘Like Im gonna believe you that. Maybe if a squad of cheerleaders needed some gas and offered to blow you for yours.’ he laughed. He then lead me inside. Even though the house was huge, there were so many people it seemed seriously small. Everybody was talking, laughing and in cerain areas – dancing.
‘How many people did you get here, you crazy?’ I stood amazed.
‘I am not counting them, I am busy with other stuff.’ He said motioning in the direction of the girl with him. I laughed and asked for drinks. He directed me to the kitchen, winked at me and returned to focusing on the hottie. My feet led me to the place where most of the alcohol resided. Around me were cans of beer, there even was a keg, but my interest was elsewhere. In the harder stuff. I had my tastes for good stuff developing from a seriously early age. It had something to do with me going to a private school. I went through a couple of cabinets and finally found the better stuff. I grabbed a bottle of single malt whiskey and, having no alternative, poured some into a plastic cup.

I wasted no time and drank a bit.