Hood Rats | Sandy Milkovich

Familial Affairs

Milkovich parties were distinctly trashy in the way only they could achieve. A smoke filled house and a constant roar of excited shouting and toasts from drunken men was something only Terry could pull off.

He sat on a stool in his kitchen, proudly observing his family over a beer. It was good to have most of them in one place again, along with close friends.

Somewhere off in the corner of the party, Sandy handed her friend another beer, which she took with a grimace. The girl's eyes were scanning over the scene taking in the commotion in awe.

"Are you okay?" Sandy laughed at her expression, absently watching her cousins shotgunning Bud lights in the living room, spilling it all over the carpet as everyone else cheered.

Rory shot her an incredulous look. "Are you kidding?" She lowered her voice so that the men passing them couldn't hear. "I'm a five foot one, bisexual Latina girl. I've never been less at home."

The other girl simply shrugged her off, sipping her own drink. "Calm down. In an hour everyone will be too drunk to realize you aren't one of us."

That was hard to believe. Even completely hammered, you couldn't say that the short, tawny skinned teenager looked anything like the hoard of Milkovichs and their close family friends. As if to prove her point, Rory eyed the curly haired man that was quite literally the life and reasoning behind the party. "There is a whole ass swastika on the wall in one of the bedrooms back there." She pointed to the hall.

"Pfft, you aren't Jewish."

She shook her head. "Yeah, and I'm also not as pale as Sherly Temple over there."

Sandy cupped her hands over her mouth. "Hey Colin!"

Immediately Rory smacked her arm, but it didn't matter because the man was already weaving through the party to get to them. He embraced Sandy with a grin. "I was wondering if you were gonna be here."

"I wouldn't miss your welcome home party, dickbag." She turned back to Rory and rested a careful hand on her shoulder. Both girls were reluctant to be outwardly handsy or comfortable with one another considering their surroundings. "Have you met my friend?"

The boy switched his attention to her with a curious look. "I don't think so." He looked startlingly like his brothers. Him and Iggy shared the same face, except Colin's was softer, and his build was similar to Mickey's in that he was shorter and more stout. The ink on his fingers was more faded than his little brother's. 

Rory could recognize the glimmer in his baby blues. It wasn't directed at her, or Sandy, or even the party, it was a look of pure, unadulterated joy. Freedom. However long he spent in a concrete cell was over and he was home free. Rory could still feel the remnants of that feeling in her own system. "Congrats on getting out."

He shook her hand. "Thanks."

"This is Rory, she got out of juvie a few months ago," Sandy supplied, trying to push the conversation forward.

Colin nodded approvingly. "Cool. What for?"

She shoved her free hand in her pocket and tilted the bottle in her other to take a long gulp. Rory never had been a fan of beer, but it almost felt rude not to drink with everyone. "Broke a kid's collar bone."

Beside her Sandy scoffed. "You fucking tore his face and tried to beat him with a chair. I bet the school janitor is still trying to get the blood stains off the floor."

"Woah," Colin laughed in surprise. "The fuck did he do?"

Suddenly Rory scratched at her face and lowered her gaze. "I was having a rough day."