Underage Drinking

Imagine killing your best friend. Imagine smashing him into a telephone

pole, crushing his bones and organs and making him bleed to death. Imagine

the pain and suffering he would go through. Imagine then going on trial for

his death, facing his family and friends and the hateful stares as you walk

in the courtroom. Imagine a verdict of guilty and being sentenced to thirty

years in prison, thirty long years to sit alone and ponder how you could have

been so stupid to kill someone you love.

How would a night like this have begun? It probably began like the night

of a typical American teenager. You would go pick up a carload of your

closest friends and head to the party scene. You have a few drinks, maybe a

beer or two or a few shots, but never enough to make you tipsy. Or so you

think. You jump back in the car, music blaring, headed to another party or

maybe even home. Your best friend says he know a shortcut, so you follow his

directions and turn down a narrow road. You speed up, in a hurry to hit that

one last party before curfew. All of a sudden there is another car in the

road, high beams on, blinding you. You brake and swerve, trying to avoid an

accident, but you end up swerving too far, running right into a telephone

pole on the side of the road, smashing in the left side of the car and your

best friend. You wake up in the hospital. Your parents are by your side and

you ask where your best friend is. They say he was killed in the ac...