PARTY CENTRAL : Youth: What is there for bored Simi Valley teen-agers to do? Too often the answers include drinking, drugs and unsupervised revelry.

It’s a few minutes after the final bell for the week at Royal High School in Simi Valley, and seniors Will and Jason are sitting on a cement bench in front of the administration building, totally cool.

“You boys been in class?” a woman asks as she briskly strides by toward the office.

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Will answers. The woman disappears into the building and the door closes behind her.

“Totally bogus,” Jason says.

Will tosses his baseball cap a few times in the air as students pile out the gates toward the parking lot, packed now with parents waiting for car passenger doors to fling open and for books to be tossed onto the back seat.

From the side of the administration building stream clusters of girls, most wearing T-shirts and jeans, T-shirts and skirts or T-shirts and leggings. They gather on the sidewalk with a group of boys. Except for the occasional sweat shirt with “Stussy” or “Gotcha” written across the front, the guys too seem to have no need to dress to impress.

Will finally spots the friend he’s been looking for: a tall, skinny boy in Levi’s and a backward baseball cap who saunters over.

“It’s, like, on Angela Street,” his friend says. “It says it’s going to be a killer.”

Jason makes a fist of victory and pumps it a few inches in front of him. All riiight.

The “it” his friend refers to is a flyer circulated surreptitiously around the school earlier in the day.

“BITCHIN PARTY” the flyer announces in large letters. “Beer. Babes. Band.” And then, in smaller letters at the bottom, “$5 at the door.”

If the party is typical, according to law enforcement agencies, between 100 and 300 teen-agers will show up at a rented house, or one in which the parents have left for the night. Other parties, which they say are given less frequently, are ones where the parents will be home, collecting a portion of the proceeds from junior’s friends.

Cars will line the street, a bouncer may stand at the door to make certain everyone pays and, depending on the size of the crowd, anywhere from $500 to $1,000--minus the cost of a keg or two of beer--will be raised by the person throwing it.

Parties, they add, where it’s not unusual to find 13- and 14-year-old girls mingling with guys in their 20s, guests who spotted the flyers at Moorpark College.

This is party time, Simi Valley style.

“You live in Simi, you gotta party,” says Jason, who, like all of the teen-agers interviewed for this story, spoke on the condition that his last name wouldn’t be used.

“Well, you don’t have to,” counters Will, who holds on his lap two books, both with make-shift covers constructed from grocery bags. “I mean, you could stay home with your parents.” His tone of voice suggests that this option is right up there with cleaning out the cat box.

“But if you’re still in school, or if you’ve just graduated, it’s a big thing,” Will says. “It’s like, ‘Let’s go to parties, let’s go get drunk, let’s find something to do.’ ”

He pauses for a moment, and then shrugs his shoulders. “What else is there to do around here but party?”

The question isn’t just being asked by teen-agers. It is a mantra, one that will be repeated over and over throughout the city during the next few days. By parents. Police. Probation officers. Family therapists. Youth group leaders.

Everyone will acknowledge that teen-agers everywhere just want to have fun. But unlike other cities in the county, which have organized activities, youth centers and under-age clubs, Simi is a bedroom community with little to offer restless youths.

They will talk about the lack of a safe site where Simi teen-agers can go; about a youth center that has been on the drawing board for nearly a decade, but which now is being held up by litigation; about the problems faced by parents trying to counter the allure of the alcohol and drugs often available at the parties.

And all will ask the same thing, for slightly different reasons and from slightly different perspectives:

What else is there for teen-agers in Simi to do?

Friday, 6:45 p.m.

The one-story house on Angela street is dimly lit. Outside on the front lawn, several teen-agers sit cross-legged or lean against a tree while Mike, whose party it was to be, stands near the curb to give recent arrivals the bad news.

A red pickup truck slows in front of the house. “It’s busted,” Mike says to the four boys inside. The flyer was intercepted earlier in the day by someone in the principal’s office, he explains, who then contacted the police.

It wasn’t the first time. “We intercept the flyers from time to time on campus,” David Jackson, principal of Royal High School, says later. “We notify the police whenever we do.”

What that means for Mike is a keg of beer on his hands he expected to be reimbursed for. “The cops showed up at 5, before it even started,” he says. “They said we’d all be busted if we party here.”

Now the group in the pickup truck must consider its options.

Mike says he thinks there’s something happening on Ahart Street. At least, that’s where the last car was headed.

Mike, 19, says he’s had a lot of parties at his house before. He’s renting the place with a couple of friends. He works in an insurance office during the day, but it’s not enough money to go to college, which is what he says he’d eventually like to do. For now, the parties are a way of getting quick cash for everyday necessities.

“See that truck?” he asks, pointing to a midnight blue, late model Toyota in the driveway. “I got that by partying.”

For every party that gets broken up by the police, says Jim, a senior at Apollo High School who occasionally gets paid to be a bouncer at the parties, there are plenty that go undetected. “There are two or three of them going on each week,” he says.

But there isn’t just one kind. This, the teen-agers say, is important for a visitor to understand. They then give a lecture in Partying 1A.

There are “underground” or “rave” parties, which charge for admission but don’t use flyers to advertise. Instead, prospective party-goers are directed to a prearranged spot--the 7-Eleven or the Quick Stop Market--where someone stands out front and tells them the address. At raves, the teen-agers explain, the appeal isn’t just the music and beer.

There’s also the latest drug of choice: LSD.

Then there’s the type of party where the parents aren’t just home, but actually sponsor it. One teen-ager says he has a friend whose parents are out of work. When their son throws a flyer party, he says, the parents take half the money.

Mike is joined on the sidewalk by several more friends who want it known that the parties aren’t just for kids who want to drink or use drugs.

Shelley, a pretty, immaculately made-up 15-year-old who is dressed on this chilly evening in jeans and a polka-dot tank top, says it’s the only place to meet your friends.

“If you can’t, like, go to people’s houses,” she asks, “where are you supposed to go?” And then comes the mantra: “I mean, what else is there to do around here?”

Saturday, 10 p.m.

Simi Valley Police Sgt. Gordon Weeks is headed east on Los Angeles Avenue and makes a left onto Tapo Canyon.

It’s slow tonight. The most exciting call so far was about loud music coming out of a condominium, where a man in his 30s had a handful of friends over for his birthday. The man was polite and apologetic when Weeks appeared at his door, immediately turning down the stereo.

Still, he was handed a citation by Weeks that any party-giver in Simi Valley receives when visited by the police.

“If we don’t have to come back within 12 hours, just tear this up,” Weeks told the man.

Until two years ago, just about any party could have gone on until a neighbor called the police. Even then, says Weeks, the police could only intervene if the neighbor was willing to sign a formal complaint--which many were reluctant to do for fear of retribution.

“It was a lot worse then in terms of the violence,” he says.

“There’d always be a few troublemakers who’d have too much to drink and then it would get nasty. We’d sometimes have 10 patrol cars to break up just one of these parties.”

In 1990 that changed. Simi Valley passed a party ordinance--which addresses everything from excessive noise and alcohol violations to inadequate toilet facilities for the number of people in attendance. It also carries with it certain fines and penalties. Except for civic groups, flyer parties that charge admission are illegal.

With the passage of the ordinance--which also has been adopted in several other cities, including Thousand Oaks and Oxnard, and is being considered by at least one city in Orange County--police can now cite any party-giver and hold him or her financially responsible for the manpower cost of breaking up the party.

Weeks isn’t altogether unsympathetic to the teen-agers. Most of them, he says, are “really nice kids who are just trying to have some fun.”

“What is there for them to do?” he asks. “Isn’t that the question all teen-agers ask?”

But the problem with the flyer parties, besides their illegality, is that party-goers often don’t know each other, he says. Usually there’s alcohol or worse. There’s more of a chance for violence. And property is often in shambles after the kids leave.

Nowadays, though, Weeks says the person calling the police is just as likely to be the party-giver.

“The people pay their money, and then once the alcohol runs low . . . they call and say their party has gotten out of hand,” he says. “Once they have their money, the sooner it breaks up, the better.”

Wednesday, noon

It’s lunchtime at the Simi Valley courthouse, and the county probation department is sponsoring a brown-bag seminar called “Keeping Teens Out of Trouble.” It is attended by 11 people; all but one of them are women.

The attendees sit a few seats apart, their briefcases or purses placed on the chairs beside them while they munch on sandwiches. Most stare straight ahead at a table, covered with the confiscated belongings of other people’s teen-agers.

There is a baseball bat with nails pounded into the end, which its designer will later explain was constructed for “self-defense.” A crudely fashioned spear, made from three feet of aluminum pipe with a kitchen knife inserted into the end. Buck knives in various sizes.

Taped to the edge of the table are plastic zip-lock bags, filled with different amounts of white powder or dried, green stems. In the middle of the table is a plastic pipe, which is passed around for parents to smell.

“This is to give you an idea of what the drugs and weapons look like,” says Michael L’Ecuyer, a probation officer with the county.

L’Ecuyer, whose hip but conservatively coordinated attire calls to mind a character out of “Miami Vice,” is giving the talk with fellow probation officer Debbie Canada. Sitting in the corner is an 18-year-old former gang member named Luis, who is there of his own accord to answer parents’ questions.

The purpose of the talk, L’Ecuyer says, is to alert parents to the telltale signs that their kids are involved with drugs, alcohol or gangs.

“Are they chewing gum or using mints when they come home? Are they sleeping all day? With marijuana, they’ll have slowed reactions and be glassy-eyed. With cocaine, a lot of them get into shoplifting or burglary to support it. But methamphetamine is becoming more popular in the area because it’s cheaper.”

Also increasingly popular, according to Canada, is LSD. “We’re seeing a lot more LSD now than in previous years,” she says. “Acid is definitely back.”

One mother, who looks as if ice water has been thrown in her face, asks about the flyer parties. She says her daughter insists there’s nowhere else to go. The mother wants to know first if the parties are safe, and second if there are any other options for teen-agers in Simi.

“The flyer parties have been around for a while, but having parents throw them is new,” Canada says. “That by itself is scary.”

Linda White, vice president of operations for the Simi Valley Boys and Girls Club and one of the 11 people in attendance, interjects her own experience: “We’ve had parents come in and we asked them what they were doing while they were unemployed, and they said, ‘Throwing parties, mostly.’ They say it’s easy money, and all they have to do is make sure the kids leave.”

L’Ecuyer shakes his head. “Most of what goes on is drinking,” he says. “A lot of the kids go to them because their friends are there, and then they end up drinking. Obviously, there are better places for kids to be. But right now,” he adds, “Simi has no teen center.”

Canada nods in agreement. Then she, too, speaks the mantra:

“Right now, the kids really have nothing to do,” she says. “It’s a real problem here.”

Another parent raises her hand and directs a question to Luis, who until now has been sitting quietly in the corner. If there were a place like that, the parent asks, a place where kids could go that was just for them, would he go there?

Luis thinks for a minute. Then he looks up.

“If there were a weight room and pool tables and music, yeah, I’d go with my buddies,” he says. “You wouldn’t need to drink to play pool.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAVE

He’s 18 today, and so he asked if he could have, you know, a little get together at the house tonight while his parents are out. They’re pretty cool, and so they said, like, “Well, fine, Dave. Have a good time.”

Dave and about 200 of his closest friends--well, actually he doesn’t know a lot of the people here--are certainly trying to follow his parents’ advice.

There’s this really wack (that’s good) band that sounds like it’s making its living room debut. And everyone is, like, piled high up to the ceilings and drinking beer.

And there’s a lot of cool conversations:

* Shawna, 17: “My mother doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m OK. So I always tell her I’m OK.”

* Andrea, 17: “My mom doesn’t know I party. She’d kill me if she knew. She doesn’t know what we do.”

* Dave: “Yeah, well, after you graduate you all go your separate ways, so you have to party while you can.”

* Aileen, 19: “Well, I got here and looked around at everyone, and I said, ‘I feel so old!’ ”

* Jamie, 14: “This is just something to do. But the undergrounds are what’s trendy now. Anyone know where there’s an underground?”

* Gina, 15: “They’re better when they’re illegal.”

* Kelly, 17: “I was walking up to this other party and the cops drove up, and this guy hands me a bag when he’s running out, and so I get busted! I wasn’t even drinking. I asked the cop if he was going to read me my rights and he just said, ‘You’ve been watching too much TV.’ ”

* Ted, 16: “Would you guys go to a teen center if they had one? I would. It makes me mad there’s no place to go! I do my homework. I’m an honor student. But on weekends I want to cut loose. You know why I do this? (Holds up a bottle of St. Ibes beer) Because there’s nothing else to do!”

SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR PARENTS

“It’s always been tough raising teen-agers, but it’s a little scarier out there than it used to be,” Simi Valley marriage, family and child counselor Deborah Tucker told a packed room of parents one recent evening.

“What I see a lot of is that the majority of parents don’t know where to draw the line anymore.”

The parents apparently agreed. At the free lecture, sponsored by Simi Valley Hospital’s Behavioral Health Center and titled “Survival Skills for Parents with Teenagers,” nearly 40 parents asked about everything from flyer parties and curfews to discipline techniques.

Tucker, who has counseled numerous teen-agers and their parents locally at Families Counseling Center, gave the following advice:

* A dictatorship only works in the short run. “A really authoritative style doesn’t raise a kid who can think for himself when he’s on his own.”

* Contracts are useful. “When kids get older, you can give them the feeling of more freedom while still maintaining control. Say, ‘You want this privilege? We’ll try it for a week.’ But tell them you reserve the right to change your mind if it doesn’t work.”

* Misplaced guilt gets parents in the most trouble. “You may think you’re assuaging your guilt by giving in, but it’s often not a favor to them. Teen-agers need more freedom, but they also need to feel there are boundaries.”

* Don’t buy into the statement, “What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?” “In my practice, teen-agers tell me all the time they tell their parents they’ll be at a friend’s, and then they go to a party. If you think you don’t know the real story, don’t feel bad about enlisting neighbors as spies or calling from work.”

* Give them your trust in increments, follow up to see if they are handling it and, if they’re not, instantly shorten the leash. “We’ve all sounded like a broken record with the statement, ‘You have lost my trust.’ But kids need to earn it.”

* Set a curfew. Know where your kids are. “Remember that the party that sounds like a den of the devil to you sounds really cool to them. And a lot of times they just want to be with their friends. But you have to know what goes on there. Can your kid handle it? Pay attention to what’s going on with them.”