I just don’t know how to tell him that.

The party at Murphy’s Hill is going strong when I get there. There are so many cars parked along the old lumber road, it feels like half the school must have come out to celebrate.

It’s a clear night. Cool. The almost-full moon glows in the sky, giving out a fair amount of light.

Derek points me to the keg when I walk up to him and a bunch of other guys. “But if you drink, you have to hand over your keys,” he tells me. “We’ve got designated drivers tonight.”

“Great,” I tell him. “But I don’t feel like drinking.”

He nods, like he understands. But he doesn’t. Not really. Everyone’s laughing and having a good time, and I want to feel happy, like I did right after the game, but I don’t.

All I feel is pressure.

Pressure to win the game. Pressure to choose the right college. Pressure to play and make my dad happy. Pressure to do right by Benny. Pressure to be the person everyone expects me to be.

It’s like I’m at one end of an old, rickety bridge between two cliffs, way up high. The bridge sways back and forth in the wind, and as I look out, it seems pretty much impossible to make it across to the other side.

If I go, what happens?

If I stand my ground, what happens?

Everything’s so mixed up right now.

“Hey,” I hear from behind me as someone taps me on the shoulder.

I turn around, away from the small group of guys I’m standing with. “Hi,” I say to Lauren and Stasia.

“Great game last night,” Stasia says. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks.” I feel like I should say more, but I don’t.

Stasia looks past me and waves at someone. “There’s Sam,” she says, smiling. “Think I’ll go say hi.”

“You know,” I say to Lauren before Stasia leaves, “I think I might go for a drive. You girls want to come?”

Lauren looks at Stasia. “You two go,” Stasia says. “If you need a ride home, Lauren, just be back here by twelve.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Stasia squeezes Lauren’s hand before she takes off. “Be safe.”

Lauren and I head down the hill.

“I didn’t drink anything,” I tell her. “You know, in case you were wondering.”

“I figured,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t think you were the type to risk my life like that.” I can feel her looking at me. Studying me. Then quietly she says, “Don’t worry. I trust you.”

It feels good to hear her say that. To know that someone believes I’m doing the right thing.

We get to my truck, and I go to her side and unlock the door with the help of the flashlight app on my phone. She hops in, and as I start to close the door, she puts her arm out. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Honestly? Right this minute, I’m actually doing pretty good.”

“Me too,” she says with a little smile.