Losers: Part I

I didn’t feel joy as they set the crown on my head. It tangled in my hair and scratched on my scalp. The lights were too bright as they focused on me, the excited cheers of my peers deafening me from the mass of shadows beyond the lights. Faceless applause to drown out the snickers and murmurs.

“All right, big smiles!” One of the yearbook staff, I couldn’t remember her name, popped in front of us with her camera at the ready. With Prom King and Queen announced, the music was turned up and pounding again, hammering along with my heart. I turned toward Kyle, laid my hand on his chest and plastered a smile on my face. I made sure to cock my hip at just the right angle and extend my leg forward, white stilettos balancing me precariously on the sleek wood floor of the gymnasium.

“You’d better smile, Kyle,” I muttered through my clenched, smiling teeth. “Don’t fucking ruin these pictures.”

His hand encircled my waist, revolting me. “Always got a fake smile at the ready, don’t you, Jessica?” The words were returned through his own plastic smile. “That’s why no one likes you. You’re fake as fuck.”

Smile. Just smile. The camera flashed. If I was going to have to look at these photos hung proudly on my mother’s wall for the next who-knows-how-many years, I was going to make sure I looked good in them. It didn’t matter who I was standing next to. It had never mattered.

It didn’t matter if everyone hated me. It didn’t matter that right before the announcement, Kyle had let it slip that he wanted to break up again. It didn’t matter that he’d blurted out he was dumping me. Again.

It didn’t matter. God, it didn’t matter. Just smile.

People were cheering for a dance. With every step down from the stage, I fixed that smile a little tighter on my face. I held Kyle’s hand, damp and moist around my own. He was sweating through his tux, his eyes wandering the crowd. Always wandering. It didn’t matter what I looked like, or how I dressed, or what I did in bed. It didn’t matter.

It was never enough.

We danced. The camera flashed. Make it look like you’re having a good time.

But the moment the song stopped, a lull in the music and the crowd’s dwindling attention allowed me to slip away. I hugged the wall near the back of the gym, dipping under streamers and metallic ribbons, running away from the unwanted conversations and hypocritical congratulations.

No one was surprised I’d won. This was how it was supposed to be. This was the world nicely fitting into the same old routine.

The Cheerleading Captain and the Quarterback. How cute. How convenient. What a fucking cliche.

I shoved hard against the first door I found and finally slipped outside.

Standing on the concrete steps behind the gym, I looked out at the overflowing dumpsters. A single light illuminated the steps and rain poured around me, cold as it mercilessly drenched me. My dress’s layers of pink satin were swiftly soaked, too tight and heavy as it clung to me.

The rain ruined my makeup fast enough. It didn’t matter if I cried.

I tried to hold it back. I sat on the step, stifling the hiccupping sobs in my chest.

No one likes you. You’re fake as fuck.

I felt hot and cold at the same time. My stomach twisted with the alcohol I’d been sneaking all night. It didn’t matter what Kyle said. He was an asshole anyway, and I deserved better.

I wrapped my hands around my bare arms, covered with goosebumps from the cold. I was just as much of an asshole as Kyle. It was the only reason we’d ever really worked together. We’d deserved each other.

Two absolutely awful people deserved each other.

I jerked up my head at the sound of a footstep. Vincent stood to the right of the stairs, wearing a leather jacket, button-up black shirt and trousers, dry beneath an umbrella.

I sighed heavily, looking away from him. “Oh, God, it’s you.”

“Damn, people are usually way more excited to see me at parties.” He came up the steps and sat beside me, moving the umbrella so we could share it. I was used to him wearing oversized joke t-shirts and tight jeans. The sight of him in black, fitted clothes, was…nice. It was actually nice.

“Well, I’m not looking for any party favors,” I said, trying to subtly wipe my sniffly nose on the back of my hand. “Unless you’ve got Xanax.”

“I might. I’ve got whatever the people need.” I could feel his eyes on me, probing at me, like a doctor’s fingers looking for an injury. “You’ve never wanted downers before.”

“I don’t want to feel anything,” I said. I stared straight ahead at the soaked bags of trash. “Not anything at all.”

“I don’t usually comment on how people get their high, Jess. But something tells me I shouldn’t sell you xannies. Not like this.”

I shook my head bitterly. “Oh, great. A dealer with a conscience. Won’t even take advantage of a damsel in distress?”

He snickered. “You’re no distressed damsel. You’re a very dangerous queen bee.” He looked pleased when that got a little laugh out of me. We were silent for a few moments, before he said, “So…you got Prom Queen.”

“Yeah.” I reached up, brushing my fingers lightly across the plastic crown tangled in my soaked hair. “You’ll probably hear my mom scream clear across town when I tell her.”

“And the uh…the King is absent?”

I swallowed hard. Don’t cry again. Don’t cry. Don’t be weak over a guy.

“The King has found conquests in another kingdom,” I said, trying to sound as haughty and careless as I could. Like it was a funny little game that couldn’t really hurt.

Vincent didn’t say anything, but his silence was better than empty words of comfort. I would have known he was lying anyway. His relationship with Kyle was tolerant only because he supplied him with Adderall at a discount. But then he laid his jacket across my shoulders, holding the umbrella between his knees. “You must be freezing in that dress.”

I was. My entire body was covered in goosebumps and I’d been struggling not to let him see me shiver. The warmth of the jacket made my shoulders sag as the tension went out of them.

“This jacket smells like weed,” I said.

He nodded. “Probably because there’s weed in it.”

“If a cop finds me wearing this, am I going to get arrested?”

He smiled mischievously. “Only if they search you.”

We sat in silence for a few more moments, surrounded by the patter of rain and the upbeat dance music pounding through the door. Then the music changed, the melody slowing to become “Holy” by Justin Bieber.

“People are going to wonder where I am,” I said softly.

“Fuck ‘em.”

I looked at him in surprise, and he shrugged. “Fuck ‘em, Jess. They don’t need any more entertainment from you. Did Cinderella care about anyone wondering where she was when she ran away from the ball?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You’ve seen Cinderella?”

“I have four little sisters,” he said. “Of course I’ve seen it — the animation is a classic! When that glass slipper shattered…” He laid his hand dramatically over his chest. “My heart shattered with it.”

I giggled, despite the festering pain still gripping my chest. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

He stood suddenly, tucking the umbrella against his shoulder before he extended his hand to me. I stared at his open palm, blinking rapidly in confusion. “What?”

“Doesn’t feel right for the Prom Queen to not get her slow dance,” he said, a slight smile playing around his lips.

“Dance?” I said. “Out here? With you? In the rain?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

A thousand reasons, a thousand excuses, prickled over my tongue. But I took his hand and let him pull me up from the step. I let him wrap his arm around my waist, beneath his leather jacket, still warm around my shoulders.

“I’m going to get you all wet,” I said as I pressed my soaked dress against him. I glared when he laughed. “Don’t you dare make a dirty joke out of that.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it,” he said. “I don’t mind if you get me a little wet, Jess.” He winked, and I rolled my eyes. But as we swayed in the rain to the muted sounds of the music, the pain in my chest loosened its grip. The fearful clench of insecurity around my lungs stopped swelling, and I took a slow breath before I dared to rest my head against his chest.

“You’re really tall,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

“That’s why the ladies call me Daddy Longlegs,” he said, and I smacked his chest even though the joke made me laugh.

“Kyle will kill you if he sees us out here,” I said. Behind us, the slight movement of the doorknob made me tense, and Vincent’s hand tightened on my waist. But no one came out.

“And waste his supplier?” he said. “I doubt it.” He paused for a moment, swaying with me. “I don’t care anyway. These are supposed to be the best nights of our lives, right?”

“Are they?” It was weird to feel this way. Melancholy and sad, confused and angry, but…there was something else crawling its way through all the muck of my emotions. Something warm, tender, and small.

Desire. Longing. A wish that everything was different.

“You know I never wanted Manson to get hurt,” I said, so softly it was almost imperceptible over the rain.

“I know. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, right?”

“Right.” I closed my eyes. Senior year was coming to its end, and I’d messed up everything. My road was well-paved indeed, with intentions both good and bad. I’d been so certain it was the road I wanted, but now only a dead end lay ahead.

Things would change after high school. They had to.

The song ended, and I pulled away first. I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders, sniffling back the last of my sadness. I was better than this. I had to get back in there. I took off his jacket and held it out to him.

But Vincent was staring at me with a look I couldn’t fully understand. “What?” I said as he finally took the jacket.

He shook his head, slowly, with a sigh that felt so heavy. “Damn. You got me too.”

I was about to ask what the hell he meant, but the door behind us opened and someone exclaimed loudly, “Oh, thank God! Jess, what the hell?”

Ashley hurried out to me, holding an umbrella that she quickly brought me beneath. Vincent stepped back as she fretted over me. “Was it worth getting soaked for some weed? Oh my God, your lashes are falling off. Here, let’s get you to the bathroom.” She gave Vincent a disapproving glare. “Maybe next time, do your deals someplace a little less shady?”

“But where else can I find conveniently placed dumpsters to throw my clients’ bodies in?” Vincent said right before we slipped inside, and Ashley groaned in disgust.

“He’s such a creep,” she said. “Take me with you next time, girl! Don’t trust that weirdo. You know Mark Ringwald told me that Sarah Everdeen told him that her cousin found out Vincent is into some really fucked up shit. He’s, like, a devil worshiper or something.”

“I think devil worshippers only sacrifice virgins, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe.” I was joking, but Ashley nodded as her mouth formed into an ‘O,’ as if I’d told her incredibly important information.

We cleaned up my makeup and Ashley called a friend who had an emergency wardrobe change. I could go back out on the floor and dance with my friends, sneak more vodka from Ashley’s flask, and pretend I was having the best night of my life.

And maybe there had been something good that night. Something small and uncertain, but warm despite the rain. Maybe I didn’t know it yet. Maybe I wouldn’t know it for years. But that small thing stayed, even unnurtured, and waited for its opportunity to grow.