The Kid

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
At a party on a dark night, something happens...(yeah, the dramatic drum-roll should come in right now)

Submitted: August 15, 2007

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Submitted: August 15, 2007



It was party time. Around me, people were laughing, drinking, dancing, smiling. Most on the dance floor were either spilling drinks or being spilled upon. Everyone looked cheerful. Except me.

I hated this kind of thing. Being with so many people, most of them younger than me, and knowing that each of them had chalked me up as a boring adult who was at the party for who knew what reason - probably because I didn't fit in with my own crowd. But knowing that I was a completely different person and was there for completely different reasons than they imagined. And being unable to tell them that .

It's strange how being in a situation but entirely out of it at the same time can sharpen your perceptions. I could feel the heat emanating from the hundred people around me, see the small dramas being enacted, hear the conversational confetti falling around me.

"went and she wasn't - "

"happened there. But they said - "

"Shit, that guy keeps - "

"off, will you? I don't want - "

"Remember where we - "

"tell her. I already told Amanda, it's off. We're over. Over. Dammit, can't - "

The last was said by a kid in a red t-shirt, who looked too young to be drinking that beer in his hand. Must be underage; he looked only about seventeen. Glancing next to him, I saw the girl he'd been talking to. She was obviously Goth - you didn't need the pointy eyebrows or black lipstick to tell you that. Her face was absolutely expressionless, but it somehow looked singularly depressed. And she was tugging at the kid's arm.

"Wait, I tell you. Oh shit, she's going. I can't tell her, you gotta - "

I was so intent on watching them that I didn't notice the guy who was leaning against the wall next to me. And knocking a copy of van Gogh crooked. And trying to get my attention. Multitasker.

Aw geez, why did every guy think it somehow turned girls on when they said, "Hello, beautiful"? I pulled my shoulder up an inch, a sure sign that I was preparing to be stand-offish. But the dude was obviously either really oblivious or really egotistical. Or, I soon realized, really drunk.

The Goth girl was running towards the open door, the kid staring after her. Then he started to run as well. They were doing their share of jostling people, spilling drinks.

Ouch. The dude was tugging at my arm. Talking. Talking. Oh, to me.

"Zash you are ze mosh beauuutiful woman - "

I tuned him out.

The two were at the door now. I moved to see where they were headed. Parking lot. The red of the kid's t-shirt stood out, while the Goth girl blended in with the blackness outside.

Near the two of them, headlights swooshed through the parking lot. Bright headlights. A teenage girl was behind the car wheel, driving.

Oh no. The kid. Standing in front of her car, right in front of it. Raising his arms.

Yelling, "Amanda!"

Trying to get her to stop.

And then I heard a scream.

The whole crowd was hustling to the door now, looking out, but I made it to the parking lot first. It was, after all, my job.

The car was veering crazily. Inside, the girl's face stared out unseeingly, with two enormous gaps that must be eyes. The Goth girl was screeching on the other side of the car. The kid was a heap of red on the ground. And it wasn't just red from his t-shirt.

"But I said zat you are ze mosh..."

The dude. Ohmigosh, he was standing next to me again. Oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that a kid had just been killed. Run over. By the girl he had just dumped.

On the ground, the Goth girl was huddled, sobbing and rocking from side to side. I went up to her, and she looked at me blankly.

"She loved him. Amanda loved him," she said.

"That's not love," I said.

She looked at me again, really seeing me this time.

"He dumped her, for no reason. She wanted to kill him. She planned it all. I was her friend, I helped. She told me what to say, what to do, to get him out into the parking lot...I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't..."

Then she stopped. Looked at me.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Police," I said.

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