It was a cluttered sleep. Sometimes I felt like I was actually awake and repeating the events of the night. I was on the dance floor and in Valerie’s basement and on Rachel’s lawn, but this time I knew what would happen in the end, so I tried to make things turn out differently. A couple of times I woke up and took a few sips of water before dropping back into sleep. As the room got lighter I could hear Ben’s and Janie’s voices, and then Rachel telling them to be quiet because I wasn’t feeling well. I was grateful to her but also uneasy, and I knew, even in my sleep, that there were things to take care of when I woke up.

Finally, I pulled myself out of bed, dreading the day in front of me. My head throbbed and a bitter taste filled mouth. White pills in hand, I made my way to the bathroom, my head pounding with each step. I swallowed the pills, gulping the water greedily. Then I washed my face, scrubbing at the remains of the makeup, and brushed my teeth three times until the acrid taste left my mouth. I stepped into the shower and stood gratefully in the hot steam, soaping every inch of myself as if I could wash away all that had happened. Back in my room, I pulled on my blue jeans and a sweatshirt, my wet ponytail dampening the hood. My new blue dress was draped over the chair, and I lifted it tentatively. It was a mass of wrinkles and stains. I thought about how much money I had paid for it, and how excitedly I had slipped it on the night before. Then I heard a light tap on my door, and opened it to see Rachel standing in the hallway.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. I tried to remember if I had seen her last night. Then it came rushing back: Rachel leading me from the front lawn to my room, helping me change. Shame filled me.

“I’ve been better,” I said. Then, in a small voice, I added, “I guess I didn’t keep my head on my shoulders.”

Rachel nodded, wearing a serious expression. “Sam’s out with the kids,” she said. “Can we talk?” I stepped back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She sat beside me.

“We have some things to figure out about last night,” she said. “I’ve been on the phone with Josh’s parents.”

“I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know there was going to be drinking at the party. But, still, I should have said no.”

Rachel sighed. “Your parents trusted me, and I let them down. We both let them down.”

My chest tightened. I hadn’t thought about my parents. I looked at Rachel. “Can we please not tell them about this? They’d be so disappointed in me.” I didn’t say what I was really afraid of, that they would make me come home.

“I need to think,” said Rachel, her voice cautious. “I don’t see how I can keep this from them.”

“Can we check with Aunt Beth,” I pleaded, “and see what she says?”

“Maybe, but first we have to deal with everything else.”

“Everything else?” I asked.

“The car,” Rachel said. She sounded impatient. “Josh’s parents are pretty angry. They’re bringing it in tomorrow to see how much it’ll cost to fix.”

“What happened to the car?” I asked.

Rachel looked at me with surprise. “When Josh pulled into the driveway, he crashed the car into our garage door. You don’t remember?”

Then it flooded back. Josh driving too fast, a banging noise, the feeling of being jerked. “Oh, no,” I said. It came out like a moan. “Oh, we really messed up.” Rachel was quiet. She didn’t disagree. “Did we damage the garage door?”

“There’s a dent,” she said. “Sam had to do some work to get it to open. I’m going to call someone tomorrow to find out what it’ll take to fix it.”

Then I knew what I needed to do. “I’d like to pay for the garage door. You can take it out of my wages.”

Rachel put her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll talk more later,” she said. “The important thing is that neither of you were hurt.” I nodded, feeling awful. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get some food into you.”

In the kitchen, I watched Rachel slice a bagel and set it in the toaster oven, and tried to piece everything together in my mind. Josh had crashed his father’s car because I had made him drive me home when he was tired and probably still a little drunk. He was distracted because I was sick, so he wasn’t paying attention to his driving. And I was sick because I had been drinking. Everything that had gone wrong last night pointed back to me. It was all my fault.

Rachel set a plate on the table with a toasted bagel spread lightly with butter. She also brought me a glass of orange juice and a mug of steaming coffee. Nothing looked appealing to me except for the juice, which I drank with mighty gulps. Rachel sat on the chair beside me. “I know you probably don’t feel like eating, but it’s important to get something into your stomach.”

I took a small bite of the bagel and chewed it slowly. I turned to Rachel. “When you were taking the pictures of us before the dance, I was so happy. I can’t believe that a night that started out so nice could end this way.”

“I know,” Rachel said. There was kindness in her tone, and I was grateful for it. “There are some lessons that we have to learn the hard way.”

I spent most of the day in my room, dozing into restless naps, listlessly turning the pages of a book, drinking big glasses of water. I wrote a long letter to Kate describing what happened at the dance. It felt a little better to pour the words onto the page.

Josh called late in the afternoon, and I grabbed the phone, anxious to hear his voice. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“A little.” I took a breath. “I shouldn’t have made you take me home last night.”

Josh didn’t answer right away, and I could picture him shaking his head, his face unsmiling. “There were a lot of ‘shouldn’t haves’ last night.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to say something that would make me feel better. When he didn’t, I asked, “Can you come to dinner at Aunt Beth’s tonight?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not going to be allowed out for a while.” Then he added, “Tomorrow we’ll find out about all the damages, so I’ll see you when I come over to talk to Rachel.”

I hung up feeling worse. The reaches of my blame felt endless. When it was time to go to Aunt Beth’s house for my regular Sunday dinner, Rachel said she would drive me. Beth greeted me at the door with an excited expression on her face, which changed to a question when she saw that Rachel was with me.

“Hi, Beth,” Rachel said, after my aunt ushered us inside. “I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes before your dinner, if that’s okay.”

Beth turned to me. “Your uncle is in the den watching baseball. I’m sure he’d love some company.”

Uncle John got up from the couch and greeted me with his usual hug. I sat in an armchair and tried to pick up the threads of the baseball game. I felt Uncle John looking at me. “Is everything okay, kiddo?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I wasn’t very Amish last night.”

Uncle John gave a tiny laugh before saying, “That’s all right. Some of my best friends aren’t Amish.” He turned off the television and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Something about his calm voice made me want to tell him what happened after the dance. He winced when I got to the part about Josh crashing the car. “It could have been a lot worse,” he said. “I think you and Josh were lucky.”

“I know,” I said. “But I don’t feel very lucky right now.”

“Well,” he said, “you haven’t had too much experience. I guess you weren’t prepared for how those nights can turn out.”

Just then, I heard the front door close, and I knew that Rachel had gone. I followed John into the kitchen. Beth was standing at the stove, and she turned around when we came in. “It sounds like you had a rough night,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and walking toward me.

I nodded, blinking back tears. We all sat down at the table, and I waited to hear what Beth would say. When she spoke, her voice was breathy, like she was talking and sighing at the same time. “I don’t know what we should do about your parents. I’m in a tough situation now.”

I looked down. “I don’t want them to know about this.”

“You know,” said Beth quietly, “I really fought to get your mom to let you stay here. And to let you go out with Josh. I’m beginning to wonder if I might have been wrong.”

I shook my head, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Aunt Beth. I wish I could start over and do it better.”

Her hand stroked my back. “I know.” She was quiet for a while. I sensed that she and John were glancing at each other over my head, having a conversation without words, like my parents do. Finally Beth spoke. “It may not be the right thing, but I’ll feel better if we don’t worry your parents about what happened.” I looked up at her. She was watching me closely. “And I have a feeling that you won’t ever find yourself in that situation again.”

“Never,” I said.

“Okay, then. They don’t have to know.”

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “Thank you,” I whispered.

A few minutes later we were eating dinner, the food filling me in a comforting way. Beth turned to me and said, “So tell us about the dance.”

I looked at her, confused. “You’ve already heard about it.”

Beth shook her head. “No, I’ve only heard about what happened after the dance. I’m thinking there are also some good parts of this story. Can we hear them?”

I shrugged. “Do you want to?”

“Of course we want to,” said Uncle John. “We want you to be able look back on the whole night—not just how it ended.”

I smiled and let the memories of the dance fill my head. I took a breath and started to tell my aunt and uncle about the night. They leaned in eagerly, and I told them all the good parts.