I stood holding the cup in my hand, not drinking, just staring at it. The contents could be fatal when it was time for me to drive home. The red plastic cup containing a golden liquid also held my future. Everyone else was drinking so why shouldn't I? The answer was simple: I was only 16 and had to drive my drunken friends home. I couldn't be the cause of their death or anyone else's. Still I held the cup. Maybe one sip wouldn't kill me, but I couldn't take that chance.

The party continued while I wavered in my views - to drink or not to drink, what a terrible question. I set the cup down and talked with some of my friends. They asked if I wanted a beer. I said that I had one so I wouldn't ruin my social life or actual life. It was the hardest decision I ever made, but that night I felt good about not taking that first sip, knowing it could lead to more.

That night I drove home without any problems and awoke the next morning to hear about three drunk-driving fatalities on the road I had driven the night before. If I had had just a few beers, one of those accidents could have involved me. I never told anybody about how I felt that night. It was only a few weeks ago. Maybe I will tell my friends. I have plenty of time, I hope.