Darkson High

3.16

Nikky and Kendra hurried toward the driveway, where cars were parked in a haphazard mess thanks to the overflowing party. The noise of the fight still rumbled behind them—grunts, cheers, the occasional smack of flesh hitting flesh. Kendra glanced back once, catching a glimpse of Jake, his fists still flying, his blue eyes blazing with fury and focus. She could see Oliver desperately trying to push his way into the fray, his face tight with frustration.

"God, why does it always have to end like this?" Kendra muttered, mostly to herself, but Nikky heard it.

Nikky, her lips pursed in irritation, unlocked the car. "Because guys like them don't know how to chill for five seconds. They've got to make everything a damn spectacle." She tossed her phone into the front seat, shaking her head. "You good to drive, Kenny? Or do you want me to take the wheel?"

Kendra hesitated. "I'm okay to drive. I just... I need to not think for a bit, you know?"

Nikky nodded, understanding in her eyes. She handed Kendra the keys and slid into the passenger seat. As they settled in, the sounds of the party were muffled by the car doors, but they could still hear the distant chanting, a mix of encouragement and frustration. Kendra fumbled with the keys for a moment, her hands still trembling from the emotional rollercoaster of the night.

Before Kendra could start the car, Nikky reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," she said softly, her usual brashness softened. "We're getting out of here, alright? You don't have to think about any of this crap right now."

Kendra looked at her, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's not that easy, Nikky," she said, her voice breaking. "I just... I feel so stupid. For letting myself feel anything, for Shanti, for getting wrapped up in all this high school drama. It's all just... too much."

Nikky's expression softened. "You're not stupid, Kendra. None of this is your fault. High school's a mess for everyone, and it's even messier when you actually care about people." She glanced back toward the fight again, her face darkening. "And trust me, it's not worth getting stuck in all the bullshit. We'll deal with it, alright?"

Kendra nodded, wiping her eyes quickly. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest. She started the car, the engine roaring to life, and they pulled out of the driveway. As they drove away, the chaotic noise of the fight faded into the background, replaced by the steady hum of the road beneath them.

"Where to?" Kendra asked, her voice still shaky but steadier than before.

Nikky glanced at her phone, then looked out the window, thinking for a moment. "Let's just drive," she said finally. "Find somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can breathe."

Kendra nodded, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, if only slightly. She kept her eyes on the road, the night stretching out before them like a blank slate, waiting to be filled with something other than the chaos they'd left behind. Beside her, Nikky leaned back in her seat, her usual bravado taking a backseat to the genuine concern she felt for her friend.

As the car sped away from the party, the road ahead felt uncertain, but for the first time that night, it felt like there might be a way through all of it—a way to move forward, together.

**********************************************

Back at the party, the crowd around the fight had grown. People were jostling for space, their phones out, eager to capture the chaos on video. The air was thick with a mix of sweat, alcohol, and the sharp scent of blood. Jake, his knuckles already split and raw, swung another punch at Tom, landing it squarely on his jaw. Tom staggered back, dazed, his lip split and bleeding.

"Had enough, Tom?" Jake taunted, his breath heavy, blue eyes sharp with adrenaline and anger. He took a step back, giving Tom a chance to decide whether to come at him again. "Or you want more?"

Tom wiped his mouth, tasting blood, his eyes narrowing in fury. "You think you're so tough, huh? Think you can crash my party and act like you own the place?" He spit on the ground, trying to steady himself. "You're nothing but a punk."

Jake smirked, his voice cold and steady. "You invited everyone, Tom. I'm just making myself at home," he shot back. "Or is it still about me sleeping with your sister? Get over it, mate."

The crowd "oohed" at Jake's taunt, and Tom's face flushed with rage. Without thinking, Tom lunged at Jake again, his fists swinging wildly. But Jake, quick on his feet, sidestepped and countered with a hard jab to Tom's ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Tom doubled over, clutching his side, gasping for air.

Oliver, standing on the sidelines, looked more and more desperate as the fight escalated.

His dry humor slipped into his voice as he muttered to Trey and Harry, "Yeah, this is totally how I planned to spend my night—watching Jake reenact Fight Club." But his eyes were serious, darting between Jake and Tom, recognizing how quickly this could spiral out of control.

"Come on, man," Oliver finally shouted, trying to push his way through the crowd. "Jake, enough! This is dumb—let's just get out of here!"

Trey, still a bit high but understanding the gravity of the situation, chimed in, "Yeah, dude. You've made your point. Let's bounce before the cops show up or something."

But Jake, his blood boiling, barely heard them. His gaze was fixed on Tom, who was trying to regain his footing, anger and humiliation burning in his eyes. Jake could feel the crowd's eyes on him, their anticipation thick in the air, feeding his adrenaline. He was on edge, feeling every slight, every bit of tension from the night coursing through him. The argument with Nikky, the confrontation with Ryan, even the lingering frustration with Maggie—all of it boiled down to this moment, a primal need to release it all.

Tom staggered forward again, determined to land a hit, but Jake was quicker, slamming him back with another punch, this time sending him crashing into the side of a parked car. The crowd erupted, a mix of cheers and gasps. Some were laughing, others genuinely concerned, but most were just caught up in the spectacle.

Oliver made another attempt, finally reaching the front. "Jake, seriously!" he yelled, trying to grab his arm. "This is enough. You've proved your point. Let's just go."

Jake shrugged him off, his chest heaving, his eyes still locked on Tom, who was slowly sliding to the ground, defeated. But before he could decide his next move, a couple of Tom's friends jumped into the fray, pushing Jake back.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Trey shouted, jumping in now. "This was between them! Back off!"

The tension crackled in the air, and for a moment, it looked like things were about to escalate further, but then a loud voice cut through the chaos.

"Enough!" It was Maggie, pushing her way through the crowd with a fierce expression. Her blue eyes were blazing, her usually composed demeanor gone, replaced by something sharper, angrier. "What the hell is wrong with you guys?"

The crowd began to quiet down, sensing a shift. Maggie's presence, her cold authority, seemed to cut through the drunken haze. Jake turned to look at her, still breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his sides.

Tom, still crumpled against the car, groaned, his face swollen and bruised, but he wasn't moving. The crowd's energy shifted from anticipation to awkwardness, a sudden awareness of how far things had gone.

"Let's get out of here, man," Oliver urged quietly, his voice more serious now, his dry humor replaced with genuine concern. "This is done."

Jake took a deep breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. He looked at Maggie, their eyes locking for a moment—a charged, unreadable exchange passing between them—before he finally nodded, stepping back. "Fine," he muttered, his voice low and still simmering with frustration. "I'm done."

But even as he said it, he knew that the night was far from over.