Outlaws (g!p)

4

"Lisa seemed distracted that night after Jennie came to town. It wasn't like her to not drink with us." —Football player number 37.

..

..LISA..

Sitting on the tailgate of my truck on Old Man Richard's dried out farm, I listen to the guys talk about who've they fucked lately, what they're doing after school lets out, and just about everything else. But the only thing I can think about is a certain string tattoo on a sexy little hippie's ankle. Jennie. I never did catch the name of the girl that night in the tent, but I know Jennie is her. I can feel it when I look at her. The way she looks at me.

Jennie.

The name is perfect for her. It's... beautiful and strong. Like her.

"Yow, where's your head at?" Bobby slaps my arm, wanting me to join in on the boys talkin'. I stake a sip of the beer Bobby stole from his uncle's garage. Burping, I crinkle the can in my hand and toss it in the field.

"Nowhere," I mumble, my mind trapped in a tent that was on this very field the night I met Jennie. The boys and I have been coming here since we were kids. I still remember the night Bobby wrecked his mom's BMW and he was scared to go home so we met here, and that one time Dad got so drunk and sucker punched me to the point I could barely stand straight. I called Bobby to meet me here and wrap my ribs.

It's not all bad times though, memories of every kind grow with the grass of this open field. We come out here to drink and talk shit almost every night, and after every game win or lose, we're taking over this place. Looking down, you can see the permanent imprint my tires have left in the ground I'm here so often.

My life is so routine, I could walk it with my eyes shut. Shit, every move and every resident is predictable in their every action in this town.

Maybe that's why Jennie stands out to me. In a small town like ours, all the girls try to be like Rosé.

Slicked back blonde hair into a tight ponytail at the back of their heads, skin-tight outfits that would make anyone stare longer than they should, and with their overdone makeup, it's like they're carbon copies of one another on a teen commercial.

My mind drifts to the gumball machine at Pop's Dime-In restaurant. Every time you turn the knob, you get a blue gumball.

There are no other colors, and the taste becomes bland and the excitement of what you're going to get dull. Kinda like this town and the people in it. Jennie is different though. She's not even in the mix of stale gumballs swirling the smudged glass of the local restaurant. She's the thorn on a rose bush just outside, green and living free in the air and sunshine, and I want to prick my finger on her. Watch the pad of my finger bleed, and the feel of pain sprout a glimpse of excitement my life has been lacking for far too fucking long.

"I'm heading home." I jump down from my tailgate, some of the other guys following suit. I know nothing great awaits me back at my place. My dad will be drunk, the fridge will be empty, but the later I stay out... the drunker he'll get. I can see it now, the drunken hackle and red-rimmed eyes, as he slurs his every word. A sight I've grown used to, and can usually accept until he gets so drunk he becomes angry and I'm his only outlet.

"I'll see y'all tomorrow," I tell the boys, and slide in behind the wheel of my truck. The only thing I have left of my mother. She drove this damn thing everywhere. Including work when my dad sat at home feeling sorry for himself. Until she died my freshman year from a brain aneurysm. I remember the day it happened. I came home from school and my dad was sitting on the tail bed of his truck, drunk out of his mind more than usual.