Losers: Part I

That Saturday, I found myself waiting in line to get into the Heights behind the wheel of Manson’s massive rumbling Bronco.

It was way more fun to drive the beastly vehicle than I’d expected. The big tires and lifted suspension made the entire thing shake and bump as we drove down the road, jostling us in our seats. Manson sat up front with me, while Lucas, Jason, and Vincent were in the back, their heads ducked down so the guard wouldn’t see them as he checked my ID.

It was the same old guard who’d been working that gate for years, although it was far more difficult for him to leer at me when I was in a massive SUV instead of a tiny car.

“Welcome back, Mr. Reed,” he said, giving Manson a wave before he opened the gate and let us drive in. I wasn’t surprised he remembered Manson, who used to live in this neighborhood with his former social worker, Kathryn, and her family.

I breathed a sigh of relief once we were in. The boys straightened up as I drove through the Height’s winding roads. Some of the houses here were truly massive, mini mansions on every corner. Danielle and Nate’s house wasn’t so grand, but it was still large. It sat on a one acre lot, a rambling farmhouse surrounded by trees. The only way they were able to afford it was because they had Matthew and his girlfriend as roommates.

I made sure not to drive by the house, but parked down the road so Manson and I could get out. We’d discussed how we could best stage this distraction; we wanted to give the others plenty of time to do everything they needed to, but we also needed to scope out the place before they could move in.

I’d come up with the plan we finally settled on, the perfect way to get and keep everyone’s attention at the party. We just needed to do something they’d never expect.

That was why Manson laced his fingers through mine as we walked up the driveway toward the house. My stomach was in knots, my palms clammy with nerves. I usually dressed to the nines for a party, but I couldn’t be slowed down by heels and restrictive clothes today.

“I can’t believe I wore flats to a party,” I whispered as we approached the front door. Vehicles were parked around the yard, but my eyes zeroed in on Alex’s Hellcat parked in front of the garage. Nate’s truck was next to it, and Danielle’s pretty little Lexus was there too.

Manson squeezed my hand. “Feeling nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted. Any number of things could go wrong tonight, but I’d already decided it was worth the risk. We looked for any cameras around the exterior of the house, and finding none, Manson texted the group to let them know.

“Ready?” he said. He was about to walk into a party where half the people used to bully him relentlessly, yet he didn’t seem worried in the least. Considering I was a bundle of nerves, I was amazed he was so calm.

The two of us were going to walk in there and shatter the entire vibe. Despite how nervous I was, I sincerely couldn’t wait to see the look on Danielle’s face when we did.

“Ready,” I said, and I reached over to ring the doorbell.

The music grew even louder as Candace opened the door. The smile on her face instantly froze when she saw us.

“Oh, Jessica, wow, hi!” she said, her enthusiasm poorly faked. She had a red plastic cup in one hand, and she sounded tipsy despite the early hour. It was only 4 pm, the party was just getting started. But she’d never been able to handle her alcohol very well. “I had no idea you were coming. I, uh…” She looked at Manson, her eyes combing up and down his body in a slow appraisal. “You brought a plus one…cool…”

Manson had exaggerated his outfit on purpose. It was closer to what he used to wear in high school, back when he had the mohawk and everything he put on looked like it had survived a cataclysmic event. His tight acid-wash jeans were covered in patches and ragged holes, his Black Flag t-shirt similarly thrashed. But my favorite part of the ensemble was, obviously, the boots.

They were large, and laced up to his knees, with a thick sole that made his already tall height closer to Vincent’s. It made me look particularly small beside him, dressed in my pink crop top and jeans.

“Yeah, it was a spontaneous decision,” I said, smiling as I pulled Manson along behind me into the house. Candace was looking at us like I’d allowed an extremely dirty dog to walk in. “I really needed a night out. Work is killing me. You know how it is.”

I turned away from her with a little wave. Top 40 songs were blasting from the sound system, and people were gathered in every room, yelling to each other over the music. The kitchen was crowded, bottles of liquor and open pizza boxes littered across the countertop.

People looked twice as we passed, and when we stepped into the kitchen to get ourselves drinks, a group of guys who already looked wasted spotted us.

“Holy shit, Manson? What’s up, man?” One of the guys grasped Manson’s hand, pulling him into a bear hug as he did. The others clapped his back, asking how he’d been, quickly striking up a conversation.

When they eventually moved on, distracted by someone’s shouted invitation to open a keg, I looked at Manson in surprise. “That was Rob Davis, wasn’t it? I thought he…”

“Shoved my head in a toilet freshman year?” Manson finished for me, pouring a shot of vodka into a plastic cup. “Yeah, that was him. A few of those guys were there for the toilet incident actually.” He opened a can of Sprite, emptying it into his cup. “Good times.”

“God, they’re so fake,” I hissed, ladling sangria into my own cup. I sipped it as I said, “I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“I rarely ever see those guys, so I can manage to be polite,” he said. “Besides, people change. So long as they aren’t giving me or my family a problem, then I don’t have a problem with them. We’ve all done fucked up things when we were young and dumb. You did. I definitely have.”

“What did you do that was fucked up?” I said, genuinely curious. I could remember him getting into trouble for smoking, tardiness, skateboarding on campus, and obviously, the knife incident. But otherwise, he seemed to always keep his head down.

“Murder and mayhem,” he said, putting his arm around my waist as we left the kitchen. We had a mission to accomplish, but we also needed to blend in for at least a little while so no one got suspicious. “You know, stereotypical punk rat shit.”

“Murder?” My eyes widened. “No way…”

“I’m joking. Come on, Jess.” He gave me that crooked smile that made my heart flutter. “Do I really look like I’d murder someone?”

“Well…” I let it hang, then leaned toward him and said quietly, “You look like you could murder this pussy, so yeah, you do look like a killer.”

His smile was barely restrained as he shook his head. “Damn, you’ve barely even had a drink yet. Flirting with me already?”

“I don’t need alcohol to flirt with you.” We’d entered the living room, where the large sliding glass door was open, leading to the back patio. Crowds were gathered around the beer pong table outside, and I spotted Danielle and Nate among them, subtly pointing them out to Manson. He pulled out his phone again to let the others know we had eyes on them.

Now we had to find Alex. We needed to know where they all were before the boys made their move.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Manson said as we watched the excited crowds. “The last time we were at a party together, I had to dare you to get close to me.” He laughed softly. “Now, this time…”

“I’m here because I want to be,” I finished for him, smiling gently as I leaned over and kissed him. He stiffened for a moment in surprise before he leaned into the kiss, cupping my face in his hand and smiling against my mouth. I could feel eyes on us and even hear a few murmurs. But I didn’t care.

For those people who bothered to care, I hoped it pissed them off. They could all die mad about it if they thought they could dictate who I kissed or who was at my side.

But slowly, the sensation of being watched made a prickly feeling run up the back of my neck. I pulled slowly away from the kiss, turning to look at our audience. Danielle had come back inside and was staring at me — at us. Candace was close behind her, and on the patio, Nate had his eyes narrowed in our direction.

Perfect. We were getting their attention now.

I smiled sweetly, keeping one hand against Manson’s chest as I said, “Hey, girl! Feels like it’s been ages! Thanks so much for the invite.”

By the look on Danielle’s face, she was sincerely regretting the invitation now.

“Sure,” she said, her teeth clenched. She and Candace proceeded into the kitchen, but they still watched us. My ears burned from wanting so badly to listen in on their conversation.

“…think she’s doing? I can’t believe…”

“So fucking weird. And what’s up with…”

“…whatever. Just keep an eye…”

I tuned them out. This was what it felt like to be on the other side, I guess, but it didn’t kill my confidence like I thought it would. In fact, being here in opposition to them made me feel better than ever. Their hatred and disgust fueled me.

Why had I ever been afraid of their rejection? I didn’t need them; I didn’t need these parties. Lucas didn’t think I’d be able to do it, but I was determined to prove him wrong.

I’d changed, and it was for the better. I wasn’t the same Jessica they used to know. I wasn’t the version of myself that I’d been in high school. This was my chance to abandon all that, to wash my hands of it once and for all.

We still needed to find Alex, but he wasn’t out on the patio, nor in the living room. It wasn’t until we’d done a slow circle through the house and came back into the kitchen that we finally found him. We walked in, and at the same moment, he turned from pouring himself another drink and spotted us.

“What the fuck?” His voice was loud enough to carry above the other conversations and silence them. People stared between him and us; some with confusion, some with expectant looks that something was about to go down. Alex’s shirt was off, showing off his sweaty muscles, and he was wearing a red baseball cap backward on his head. His eyes locked onto Manson and he snapped, “Who the hell invited you?”

“Um, helloooo?” I twiddled my fingers at him. “I did. He’s here with me.”

Alex worked his jaw, clenching so hard I was surprised I didn’t hear his teeth crack. “Right. And why are you here, Jessica?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” I said, as if the answer was painfully obvious. “Where else would I be on a Saturday night?”

“Probably fucking the losers,” Danielle said. She and Candace had walked into the kitchen behind us, with Nate and Matthew in tow this time. It was clear they’d brought the men along to try to intimidate us. But no matter how much they postured and puffed out their chests, Manson remained entirely unbothered. His serene demeanor soothed me, keeping me calm despite how nerve-wracking this was.

“It’s a little weird how concerned you are with my sex life,” I said. Usually, their insults would have had me on the defensive. The urge to raise my voice was strong, but I wasn’t going to let them see me lose my cool.

Danielle clicked her tongue, casually examining her nails. “You know, Jessica, it’s sad that you think everyone cares so much about you. You’re like a little kid who put on a great big performance and didn’t realize that everyone was clapping out of pity. Like right now. Look at you! Did you come here just to parade your freak around? Do you need attention that badly?”

My veins felt like they were on fire. I wanted to fly at her, to claw her face and rip out her ugly extensions. But instead, I looked down at my phone and sent off a quick text to the group chat, Found Alex. The gang’s all accounted for. Move in.

I tucked my phone away, and lifted my head to find all of them — Alex, Danielle, Candace, and the guys gathered around — staring at me as they waited for a response.

With a laugh, I said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you all waiting for me to say something? I thought you’d have better things to do.”

Danielle looked absolutely livid.

“You know what your problem is?” she snapped, stepping away from Nate to get in my face. People in the living room and on the patio were taking notice now, beginning to gather closer for a look at the fight. “You’re so convinced that the world revolves around your little finger, but it doesn’t, Jessica. The only thing people are revolving around is your cunt, since apparently, you’ll give it away to any creep off the street.”

Manson made a guttural sound, and I glanced over to find him laughing. He didn’t care about his reputation, or gossip, or even the fact that there were people here willing to physically do him harm just for being present.

That was far sexier to me than any of these people mindlessly following the crowd.

I’d known Danielle for years. We’d shared secrets, we’d shared our dreams. But we’d also fed off each other’s toxicity, we’d encouraged the worst in each other. That wasn’t a friendship. Our relationship with each other had been parasitic, not supportive.

I had to wonder why I made her so angry. I didn’t want her man; I’d never intruded in her space. But then I thought of all the people I’d hated without reason. The horrible things I’d said about people I barely knew. How I’d judged people so harshly without ever giving the benefit of a doubt.

It made me feel powerful. It felt good to be the gatekeeper, to hold power over the social lives and decisions that others made. Doubtlessly, Danielle felt the same way.

“Maybe you should take some of your own advice,” I said. I didn’t want to hate her. But if she kept pushing me, I wouldn’t hold back. “The world doesn’t revolve around you either, and neither do I.”

“God, you are pathetic!” Her voice lifted to a shriek. “You’re whoring yourself out to Wickeston’s trash. Four guys at once, Jessica? How many more do you need?”

“Apparently Manson likes to get cucked by his own boyfriend.” Alex sneered, encouraging some jeers from the people around him. “Where is your dog anyway, Reed? I thought Lucas was always sniffing around your heels.”

“Can’t bring him around crowds,” Manson said. He’d leaned his elbows back on the countertop, so chill you’d think he owned the place. “He bites. Apparently, people get pissed about that.”

Alex’s face darkened, his hands clenching. The tension in the room was thick, and people were starting to get antsy. They were all exactly where they needed to be, focusing on us rather than anything happening at the front of the house.

Danielle’s lip curled as she said, “Maybe you want to put on a little show for everyone like you did a few years ago, huh? At Daniel Peters’ house?” She pulled out her phone. “I still have the video.”

I knew exactly what video she was talking about: me on my knees at Manson’s feet, during the drink or dare game we’d played almost three years ago. I’d kissed his boots in front of everyone. I’d soaked in the humiliation like the first hit of a drug and I hadn’t been able to shake my addiction to it since.

Bizarrely, I didn’t even feel angry. This entire situation was ridiculous, with grown adults giving me a hard time for who I chose to form a relationship with. They were trying so hard to cling to this faux dichotomy, determined that there had to be a hard division between “us” and “them.”

“You can put on the video,” I said, draining my cup and tossing it in the trash. “Go ahead, stream it to the TV if you’d like. I think it’s a classic at this point, but in case anyone doesn’t know…” I raised my voice a bit, so everyone could hear me. “It’s the video of me kissing Manson’s boots at Daniel’s Halloween party. We gave each other some wild dares that night, but do you know what’s even wilder, Danielle?”

She looked like she wanted to hit me.

“It’s wild that you think I care what you think of me,” I said. I felt such a profound sense of relief once the words were out, I almost laughed. I had cared; I’d cared so much that it hurt, that it almost broke me. But not anymore. That paralyzing fear was gone.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, likely the signal from the boys that they were almost ready to bail. Looking at the crowd gathered around us, I said, “Look at all of you! The moment I stepped inside, all your attention was on me. Me, Danielle. I don’t think the world revolves around me. No, I know it doesn’t. But I think you, and all of you other pathetic petty bitches, do revolve around me. You can’t help it. You can’t even mind your own business long enough to realize that nothing you say matters to me.”

She snarled like a shrieking wildcat as she launched at me. In one smooth motion, I reached back, grabbed the bowl of sangria from the counter, and threw the entire thing in her face.

Deathly silence fell. Manson looked stunned, his mouth open in an expression that was dangerously close to bursting into laughter. Everyone stared, wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open as Danielle stood dripping on the kitchen tile. She was gasping, blinking slowly as her mascara began to run.

A sudden loud sound from outside snapped everyone out of it, and I knew instantly that we had to go. Manson heard it too, and as soon as I glanced over at him, he grabbed my hand, pulling me with him as we ran. We shoved through the crowd, sprinting for the door. I had no idea who all was behind us — Danielle was screaming like a banshee, Alex was yelling, and I could hear multiple footsteps in pursuit.

We burst out the front door and the Bronco was there, the back hatch open. Vincent was in the driver’s seat, and Jason and Lucas were crouched in the back, ski masks over their faces and paintball guns in their arms.

I leapt into the back as Manson sprinted for the front passenger seat, and the moment I was safely between them, Lucas and Jason opened fire.

Frozen paintballs pinged off the cars, peppering their windshields and leaving tiny dings across the metal. They’d thrown a few regular balls into the mix too, as bright paint splattered across the Hellcat’s shiny red exterior.

With a whoop of excitement, Jason hauled the back hatch closed and yelled, “Go, Vince, step on it!”

Vincent slammed on the gas, the big tires quickly gaining traction. I watched out the back window, my heart pounding out of my chest as people spilled out of the house. Alex came outside, took one look at our Bronco fleeing the scene, and sprinted for his car. His headlights came on, and I said, “He’s going to follow us!”

Lucas smiled grimly beside me. “He won’t get very far.”

He was right. The red car lurched toward us, and for a few seconds, it seemed like Alex was quickly gaining speed. But his front tires began to wobble, then shake, then —

“Holy shit!” One of Alex’s front tires bent inward, his car swerving to the side and spinning out in the dirt. The headlights on Nate’s truck were on too, but we were gaining momentum and were quickly too far away to see what exactly was happening. I turned, looking at Jason. “What did you do?”

“Loosened the lug nuts on their wheels,” he said. “And put sugar in their gas tanks.”

Lucas continued, “We snipped a few wires, pulled a few hoses…”

“And cut their brake lines,” Vincent called from the driver’s seat. He glanced back at me, shoving his hand excitedly against Manson’s shoulder. “Did you two have a good time in there?”

I shrugged, as if it had just been a casual night out. “I threw a bowl of sangria in Danielle’s face.”

Vincent burst out laughing, and Jason grabbed me and squeezed me into a hug as he said, “That’s our girl! I fucking knew you’d kill it.”

I’d never thought that hearing “our girl” from his lips would give me butterflies.