Steve and I had rolled up to the party fashionably late. It was how we liked to do it, if at all. I'd always sort of enjoyed parties- there was a chaotic, exhilarating energy in the air, as well as a pungency you couldn't find any other place. He was fitted with an overly confident grin and a pair of sunglasses in the dimness of the night. I was clad in leather and floral, my heels too high to get very far in at all. We both came off as interesting and cool from afar, but up close, our decisions were lackadaisical. I think we had both given up on grooming to the extent that populars had.
I wasn't too much younger than my brother, and we got along extremely well given that the rest of our family couldn't care less about one anothers' well-being. Maybe it was that which bonded us so closely- we were all the other had. And it wasn't like we were very different. I did see him as sort of the dopey one. He put his foot in his mouth pretty often, whereas I was pretty concerned with my grades and what others thought of me. He simply took what came to him and let the rest fly by. Well, before Nancy, that was. After that whole affair, a whole new Steve had come to exist. He was subtly shifting into a healthier mixture of responsibility and aloofness.
You couldn't tell, what with the alcohol now flowing through his blood. He seemed just as nonchalant as prior to the events from the year before.
I, on the other hand, was wandering. You could get away with a lot at these parties. I knew someone who was collecting utensils from each one, set to get a full collection by the end of the school year. My pick of the litter was secrets. They were everywhere, if you knew how to look. I was one for digging into the depths of the home, really getting to it's core- and spreading as much as I could around, to stir the pot. I loved to watch my classmates run around wild, completely unaware if I had gained some new incredible knowledge or if I'd entirely made it up. The best of it I usually kept to myself, but I knew a good deal about most of the student body at this point. As much as one could remember of so many people.
Fizzy drink of some sort in one hand, discarded heels in the other, I was making laps around the upper hallway. Each family photo revealed a new depth to me about the Cunninghams, tonight's party host. Chrissy, for one, never smiled with her teeth in photos with her mom. She seemed much more authentic in family photos and there were none of just her. That wasn't the type of secret I liked spreading around, but was one I would tuck away for later, for general knowledge. Now, to find the medicine cabinet.
I almost rounded a corner before I caught myself, and my drink, sipping it as quietly as possible to keep it from projecting into the air. A hushed development was unfolding just about four feet away, between two interesting subjects. Aaron Brandt, a pretty gifted soccer player, was accepting little white pills from the pocket of Eddie Munson, the metalhead who shouted all lunch long.
"Try and only take one at a time, alright buddy?" Eddie's pinched smile was not inviting. This seemed like a stressful arrangement for him.
Slurring, Aaron stumbled a bit and waved Eddie off. "I pay you. You bring me my shit. Don't tell me what to do with it,"
Eddie pressed his hands together in at attempt at patient annoyance. "Yes, but my name is also attached to how you get your shit, so don't end up dead, got it?"
Aaron grunted lowly and shoved past Eddie, the point missing it's target. I made haste in clambering out from around the corner before he could catch me standing idly. I ran into him purposefully, my drink somehow only soaking his outfit and not my own. Crazy how that happens, what luck. The two pairs of eyes can be felt roaming my figure like needy hands, and I suddenly feel claustrophobic. I scrunch under their gaze.
"Uh, I gotta take a piss," I slur exaggeratedly, hoping it's enough to make me seem harmless.
Aaron takes the bait and only sighs, futiley dabbing at his new stain and brushing past me without a care. Eddie, however, moves to my side as I stumble closer. Aw, the gentleman.
"You are really wasted, dude," He notes, though some part of his tone sounds skeptical. He offers a hand, and I decide to take it simply to 'steady' myself.
"No, you are," I defend.
"Not like you," There's definitely a nervousness to his tone, but his hand is gentle. He means no harm. "You're, uh, Lana, right? Harrington's little sis?"
The bathroom is right behind him and he's definitely blocking it with his form, so I know there's something expected of me. An attempt at flirtation, maybe.
"I don't tend to identify solely as Steve's little sister, but yes, that's me." I snip, maybe too lucidly. His eyes squint a little. His hand drops, but he remains in front of the bathroom door. Much too lucidly.
"Listen, you aren't going to broadcast what you saw here, right?" He chuckles nervously, no humor behind the action. "Unless you know someone who needs a pick me up,"
"I don't know," I toy, idly waving my heels. "It would be just wild to hear about good ole Aaron becoming what, a coke-head?"
"Xanax, actually," Eddie crosses his arms looking distasteful as he scans my outfit. "Apparently his parents aren't really the friendly, lovey dovey sort of type. It's work work work, all the time, no breaks- not even weed can even him out,"
"Oh," I dull. These are not the secrets I liked spreading around. I search for some other spin on the situation. "But you do sell."
"Ethical drug dealer? Maybe. But I don't think that'll be much of a shock to anyone around school, do you?" He kept a pinched smile, hands on his hips as he looked down on me. We were only inches away now. He was trying to portray an air of confidence, and I wasn't going to back down, and so I could feel the puff of his nose, which was sharply exhaling onto my cheek.
"I guess not." I whispered each word pointedly, maintaining eye contact. Finally I exude, "I have to piss."
"Ah yes, sorry, milady," He rewound, swinging the door behind him open with a flourish, "Sorry to distract."
I glanced at the door, but I remained close to him. "Why protect Aaron?"
"Some people are more than what they seem," Eddie merely responded, his mouth a thin, serious line. He said nothing more.
With the sentence I believed to have held double meaning rolling around my head, I finally brushed past him, closing the bathroom door with a slam. I locked it, feeling more able to breathe, and for the first time since knowing of Munson's existence, curious about his day-to-day activities. Secrets of all shapes and kinds were around at parties if you just knew where to look.
I was surprised to find that he'd stayed a bit longer, after I'd made my way back downstairs. I had never noticed much where Munson maintained, whether he joined parties or avoided them like plague. It seemed a mixture, as he was stealing a couple beers at the moment and a hat that was left by the door. I had only ever noticed him when he was put in his place by the more primal members of the student body. People like Tommy, Andy, Jason. The type that used violence rather than knowledge to control. Even Steve had been annoyed with Munson, so I never gave him a second thought. His secrets seemed out in the open; loser type, annoying, drug dealer, probably unpredictable and maybe even dangerous. But never had I considered there was something more- something more interesting at the least.
I leant down to replace my shoes, hoping Steve was somewhere near, so I didn't have to go rooting around for him. I watched as Eddie took a final glance around, before scrunching out the front with his spoils unnoticed- except by myself. After fumbling for a few seconds more, I almost fell forward onto the ground, having been rammed into from behind. I caught myself barely, grimacing as I started to steady myself again. A rough hand, much unlike the other that had steadied me tonight, brought me to a standing position.
"Hey, you good?" His beer laiden words fanned over my face like a plague. I tried not to cough.
My mouth puckered, "Just great, let me go, would you?"
He flashed a sly smile, releasing me just to take another swig, eyes not trailing from my own. I recognized this guy, and he was someone my brother disliked far more than Munson.
I brushed at my outfit while he downed the last of his drink in one go. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Billy Hargrove."
"Cool." I only responded. I made to get away, but because my heels were a tiny bit too high, my speed was still hindered by that factor.
"Woah, woah, little girl, I saved you, you tell me your name." He reasoned, poorly, jumping into my path.
"It doesn't count if you knocked me over, as well." I redirected. Steve, where the fuck are you?
He laughed loudly, but I found no humor in the situation. I wanted to go home. I was tired and had my share of the evening. I didn't want to deal with some sleazy flirting attempts.
"Then how will I ever find you again?" He reasoned, as if this was something I, too, wanted him to do.
"Guess you'll have to just figure that out on your own, pal." I smiled, scrunched. I moved past him, having to press on his chest a bit to get by. He let me, maybe liking the action, but I knew I would probably be watched now until I went home. I made haste in trying to find my brother, eventually succeeding by the pool, out back, where there were a few couples making out, and the music was much quieter. He was still drinking, alone in a lawn chair, watching the water ripple weakly.
"Alright, Stevie, home we go." I demanded.
He didn't turn to look at me, and I stomped a foot into the concrete. "Steve, I'm tired, I'm uncomfortable, and I'm being tailed by Billy Hargrove."
This caught his attention, and he pushed himself out of his chair clumsily.
"Great," I cooed, "Now get over here so I can get your ass in the car."
"Hargrove?" He questioned distastefully, "Why are you hanging around that freak?"
"It's definitely not of my own volition." I gruffed.
He gave me a drunken furrow of his brow.
"I don't like him." I enunciated. "You're wasted, you aren't understanding basic English."
"You don't speak in basic English," He defended, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I helped guide him through to the gated fence. "You speak in, like, hieroglyphics, and politician."
"You know the word volition when you aren't drunk off your ass, dummy," I counter, scrambling to extract the keys from my pocket.
"Where's Hargrove?" He suddenly bristles, now becoming aware of the situation.
"Listen, your hero time is over, if you wanted to beat the dust out of him, you should have done it before I hauled you all the way into the car." I respond placidly, shoving him into the back seat.
"He's not gonna come near you," He mumbled angrily, fiddling with the seatbelt and missing the link.
I sigh, taking in his appearance. He didn't usually get this drunk. He typically had a nice night, charmed a few girls, walked it off and that was all. But recently, he'd become more reckless. More unstable. He was a bit of an arrogant spectacle of an ass, but usually he could plug in his own seat belt at the end of the night.
"Yeah, well, I don't want him to." I sighed softly, taking the belt from him and plugging it in. "So he won't."
"He definitely won't." Steve agreed, thoughts somewhere outside the window.
I peaked over to see Hargrove, leant on the porch, downing yet another drink. I knew I was parked too far away for him to have a clear view of my face, but it felt like we were making direct eye contact- like he was peering inside my head, rooting around. I scowled, revving the engine up and skidding away.
I met two people that night that would change my life forever, whether I liked the way or not.