The Outlanders

Their Whole Lives Revolve Around Kasper

JACKIE
Eight Years Ago

The same exact music blares over the speakers in every party I've been to. It doesn't matter who hired the DJ, or who's phone is connected to the Bluetooth device, it's like every gathering that involved alcohol and unintimate intimacies had a specific playlist of songs it had to strictly abide by. Joanna Denbrough's house party isn't any notable exception. Personally, I have nothing against people who like to party. If anything, I encourage them to live their lives. But if I have to be dragged into it? Then I start complaining. If Joanna wasn't a good friend of mine, then I would have left a little earlier than 6pm. It's currently 9 in the evening, and her parents are on a joined business trip. She considers herself lucky, while I think of it as a wasted opportunity. Being a party pooper isn't a title I want to have dangling over my head, so I just spend as much time as I can in one corner, only ever interacting with others if they start the conversation. I guess you can say being the weird bitch in the corner is better than ruining all the fun.

In one hand is half a cup of rum and cola. I've been sipping on it for a while, pleased with the idea of people watching. To give the party credit, there were a lot of interesting characters strewn about, spanning from the likes of the Jock who would try to impress the cuter girls with how much they can drink in one go, the Stoners who pass around a rolled up stick that was probably going to last them all night since they'd have to take hits from it sparingly, the drunks who sang over the song in slurs. If the music isn't good entertainment, everyone else certainly is, giving the smallest bit of joy in an otherwise uninteresting scene. At least, that's how it is for me.

From across the room a crowd gathers, the jock raising an empty bucket high in the air, before using his teeth to crack open a bottle of beer. "Come on, Moone! Have some more you pussy!" Everyone around him cheers for this Moone to have some more. Beer, if I were to guess. My head tilts to catch a better view of the poor schmuck this jerk was coercing into drinking something he probably didn't want --or couldn't handle-- anymore. When I do get a glimpse of the guy, my heart drops. Because instead of seeing someone who was too wasted for his own good, but still somehow capable of enjoying himself, the male looks like he's drugged out of his mind. against his own will, if anything. He doesn't grab the bottle of beer, instead, he paws at it a few times, weakly attempting to move it away from his face. His actions don't sit well with the bigger male, causing the jock to jerk the beer, splashing it's contents all over the male's face. Seeing it makes me flinch, as if I'm the one who took the impact of the liquid. The crowd gasps, and there's a myriad of cheers and laughter. At the very least, there were a few who didn't seem quite too enthused about mistreating the poor boy. So I start to ask myself; am I a terrible person for just standing here and just feeling sorry for Moone? Am I just as bad as the asshole? Or perhaps even something worse. Is it fair for me to tell myself that his well-being is none of my concern?

"Alright, that's enough Logan." Joanna walks up, and tugs on his arm low. Her face says everything that I need to know. She's into him, and she isn't stopping the guy from ruining Moone's life because she wants to play the white knight, but because now she wants his attention. Obviously, the male gives in without much of a fight, since his ventures with the nearly passed out male on the floor, was nothing more than fun and games. Eventually, the crowd fizzles out, leaving the male passed out on the floor, left to be stepped over by passing partygoers. It isn't until someone purposefully showers Moone's hair with soda that I run over to his side, shooing away anyone who got just a little too close. Sure, I don't know the guy, but there comes a point where enough is enough. Fun is okay, but this is just wrong. There's only a certain amount of disrespect a single person should ever endure on a single night, and I guess I figured this boy has had more than his fair share.