Page 84 of Unwritten Rules

“I’m game to start this party right.” Alexander’s hands gripped tighter on my arms.

Too tight. I couldn’t force him to let go.

Dinging rang out across the party and in unison everyone pulled out their phones.

Unknown: Party foul?

Attached to the text was a picture of the body I saw. He was dead on the ground and the flash from the picture made him look even worse. My ears started ringing like a bomb went off. The disassociation threatened to take me again.

“Good riddance! Let’s party!” The crowd in the room cheered and the music thumped even louder. Laughs and smiles were all around.

It was like I witnessed a scene from a horror movie, and I might be a main character. What would a character in my position do?

She wouldn’t be flailing and disassociating. She’d be doing her damnedest to keep her shit together. To fit in.

Kelly looked uncomfortable for the first time tonight like the bad news finally hit her. She rubbed her arm and forced herself to not fidget with the news. She took most things in stride, but I didn’t take her for having a flippant attitude like the rest of these rich assholes. Brent slinked off in some direction.

“Don’t worry,” Alexander patted my head and stroked my hair. “We have no connection to any of that. All I have to do is hand over my card and we’ll be left alone. Why don’t we blow off some steam and do some dancing to loosen you up?” He showed no emotion about a dead person at a party he was just at.No conscience, either.

I needed to get rid of this guy. He struck me as the type to not ask for consent. “I’ll be with Kelly for a bit.” I tried to keep my tone sweet, smiling at him.

As expected, he brushed off my objection like a seasoned used car salesman. “Baby, give me just a few minutes of your time. I promise I’ll make them worth it–I want to get to know the future Mrs. Fitzgerald better.” He raised my hand to his nasty lips to place a kiss on it.

Gross. “I didn’t think I’d get a marriage proposal right off the bat.”

Kelly pretended like she didn’t hear a single thing and interjected that she was taking me to the bar to get me loose first and that I’d be better in a bit.

“That dude is a fucking freak,” she murmured in my ear as she pulled me away from him.

“Observation or experience?”

“Both. come on.”

Conversations and eerie laughter swirled around us as we moved through the crowd. No one cared about the tragic ending to someone’s life. It’s like they were celebrating it.

“Think we should send flowers? Or would a gift card be better?”

“...and you know how it works. Money talks and dead men don’t...”

“...hope no one else opens their mouth. Don’t they know better than...”

Giggles and crunches from food swirled in my ears and my body threatened me again. It would either be vomiting or passing out. Kelly gripped my hand tighter because she heard it all too. Everyone here knew something in one way or another. I was horribly out of the loop and wondered what my mother knew–or thought–of this life that she failed to at leastwarnme about. She must have had a lot of trust in me before she died.Hope you still have it up there, mom, because I have no idea what I’m doing.

Money talks and dead men don’tplayed in a loop in my head.

Adrenaline had been pumping through my veins since I stepped foot into the frat party and it showed no signs of slowing down–I needed food. The table in front of me boasted a lot of carbs, and I had a feeling I burned through whatever energy I had left. I nabbed a bunch of snacks.

I kept my voice low. “You heard the same things, right?”

She nodded, eyes peeled on the crowd. Her arms were comfortably crossed over her stomach as she surveyed. “Mhm. Keep your toes out of the water–piranhas everywhere.”

Understanding started coming to me. If I wanted to even stay above water I would have to take her advice in unconventional ways. Last semester, she encouraged me to branch out and I knew this wasn’t what she meant by that, but I needed to take the advice regardless. “I need to start swimming with them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

“The things I heard–I need to know what’s going on. I’m tired of feeling like a child.”

The crowd was still laughing and cheering over a dead potential whistleblower's kid. Whatever food I managed to eat threatened me with resurfacing. We pretended to mingle while keeping our eyes and ears open to where certain people with specific colors of wristbands started to migrate. They looked to be heading to a door in the back guarded by two large, imposing men. Guards. Someone approached them and showed them their wristband to be let in.

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