The Keeper

The Jerk

Like so many Saturday nights before that, Martha stood at the side of the room, more observer than participant. She felt broken and alone despite the crowd. A guy she had never seen before was making his way towards her, carrying two plastic cups. He was short but pushy and got through the crowd quickly. With a theatrical exhalation of breath, he slammed back against the wall next to Martha, spilling some of the liquid on her sleeve.

"Hey!" she said.

"Sorry, I thought you might like some of this punch," he said, as he passed her one of the cups. "It's packed in here, isn't it?" He ran his free hand back through his long fringe and gave her a look she imagined he had practised many times in front of the mirror. When she didn't look away, he tipped the contents of his cup down his throat and coughed. "Not bad. Try it."

Martha took a sip from the cup and looked down at it with disgust. It tasted like someone had been emptying random bottles from the drinks cabinet into the punchbowl. "This is the last party before Christmas. It looks like everyone came. And a bunch of gate-crashers," she said as she looked him straight in the eye.

The boy threw his cup across the room. "I'm not a gate-crasher. Didn't you see me talking to those guys?" He nodded to the boys in the corner of the room who were looking over at them, nudging each other and laughing. "They know you. Said that you were someone I would like."

"Why is that?" said Martha, drinking more of the punch, despite herself.

"They said you're a good kisser. Is it true?" The boy moved in to kiss Martha.

Martha pushed him away. "Hey! I don't even know you. What do you think you're doing?"

"My name's Andy. Is that good enough?" He moved in again to kiss her, this time also pushing his hand up her top to grab her breast.

"Get off me, you bastard," said Martha.

The guy pulled at her top, ripping it towards him. "Come on, you tart. Everyone says you're a prick-teaser. It's time to give us the goods."

But before he could lay hands on her again, someone grabbed him by the collar and spun him around.

Andy was clearly used to confrontations. "Yeah, mate? D'you want some?"

Amy's boyfriend Marcus replied, "Yes, I do. Outside. Now."

The boys headed towards the door and Amy put her arm around Martha. "Where's your jacket?"

Martha nodded towards a chair. They went over and Amy threw the jacket around Martha, picked her own off the floor beside the door and then they left the party, buttoning up against the cold.

Marcus was outside, but on his own. "Who was that guy?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Martha, shivering.

"He ran off as soon as we got out of the house. Good thing too," said Marcus.

"Thanks, Marcus," said Martha.

"Don't mention it." He looked towards Amy.

Amy said, "Can I see you later, Marcus? We'd better get going."

"Sure. I'll catch up with my mates inside. I'll call you tomorrow."

Amy and Martha began walking home. Martha was crying, silently at first but more and more, until she was wracked with guttural sobs by the time they got to Amy's room.

"Martha, come on. The guy was a random. A jerk."

Martha slumped down on the bed beside Amy. "Yes, but he was right. I'm no good, Amy. I messed everything up and I can never make it right."

"What? What are you saying?"

Martha blew her nose and looked up at her friend. "I have to tell you something, Amy. But you can't tell anyone else, okay?"

"Of course, Martha. What is it? Why are you so upset?"