hang
by jess ryan
chapter 5

  The sound of a bottle breaking against the fence was the first thing that alerted the guests to trouble.  The second were the shadows that emerged from around the side of the house.  A large group of guys came marching into the backyard and looked around, and Kevin immediately jumped to his feet.
  “Those guys are from Lincoln,” he declared.
  “Are you sure?” Rhiannon asked, glancing around.  Lincoln was Riverdale High’s biggest rival, and Kevin suspected that they were still sore about Riverdale kicking their ass in the championships.
  “Yup.”  Kevin recognised their quarterback, Brett Donaldson, a mile away.  He sauntered towards them, followed closely by Brian, Nick, Hayden and Adrian.  The music died slightly and the crowd on the patio turned to watch the confrontation.
  Brett Donaldson sneered as the Riverdale team approached.  “Well, hello ladies.  Some party you’re throwing here.”
  Kevin crossed his arms across his chest.  “You’re not welcome here.  Piss off.”
  Pretending to be hurt, Brett looked around at his friends for support.  “Did you hear that?  We’re not welcome.”  He stepped closer to Kevin.  “We don’t care, pretty boy.  We just want some fun.”
  “We were having fun until you dickheads showed up,” Hayden spoke up.  “So why don’t you go vandalise something and have your own fun?”
  “Why don’t you stay out of it?”  Brett barely glanced in his direction as he spoke.  “Now come on, Kevvy baby, let us stay.  We’ll be good.”  He pouted like a child wanting attention, and his friends snickered.
  “It’s not my party to invite you to,” Kevin replied.  “I’m warning you – get out of here.”
  Out of the blue, Brett shoved him roughly.  “Maybe we don’t wanna.”
  Kevin lost his temper.  Before the others could hold him back, he flew at Brett and landed a neat uppercut on his jaw, and Brett staggered back.
  “You little bastard,” he hissed, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.  To his friends he said, “Get them.”
  They didn’t hesitate.

  Josie was standing in the doorway when the fight broke out, and she pushed through the crowd on the patio to see what was going on.  The entire football and basketball teams had flown onto the lawn when the first punch had been thrown, and it was all-out war on the back lawn.  Josie screamed in dismay as more and more people ran down the steps to join in.  Girls were screaming as their boyfriends were pushed and beaten, and some girls even joined in the fight.  Others, like Catherine, stood to the side and screamed at them to stop.  As Josie watched, a big guy who was probably a linebacker for Lincoln was shoved into Catherine and sent her flying across the lawn.  Josie didn’t see if she got up.  Suddenly Alana was running up the stairs towards her, yelling something, but Josie didn’t hear.
  Her party, she thought.  Her wonderful party.  The party to make her the new most popular girl in school, and those jerks from Lincoln had to ruin it.
  Alana was still yelling, and Josie barely managed to catch onto the words “Police” and “switchblades” before collapsing into a chair.  Alana gave her a disgusted look and fled into the house, probably to find a telephone.
  There came the sound of smashing glass, and the battle cries increased in volume.  Someone was shaking her hard, someone in a red dress.  Josie couldn’t see anything but a red blur in front of her.  “My party…” she stammered.  “My party, they’re ruining my party…don’t let them ruin my party, it was so fun, I was so popular, people liked me…they’re ruining my party…”
  The red dress slapped her face hard.  “Josie, snap out of it!” Claire demanded.  “They’re killing each other out there!  CALL THE POLICE NOW!”
  “Wha…”  Josie was still reeling from the slap, and it took a moment for Claire’s words to sink in.  “What do you mean they’re killing each other?”
  “I mean some of the Lincoln dudes pulled out goddamn switchblades!”  Claire hauled her to her feet.  “This is your party – call the police, dammit, or you’ll have a backyard littered with dead bodies!”  She pushed Josie towards the door and Josie stumbled a bit and ran inside.  Alana was already on the phone in the hallway.  So that was what Alana had been yelling at her about before, Josie thought.
  Alana seemed to have things under control, so Josie went back outside.  Adrian pushed roughly past her in the doorway, and placed an unconscious and badly bruised Catherine on the sofa in the living room.  Rhiannon was hysterical as she followed, and Casey brought up the rear, comforting Rhiannon as she went.  My mother’s sofa, Josie thought, seeing Catherine’s bloody, dirty dress being laid against the chintz fabric.  Adrian glanced at her for a moment, and managed to yell, “Josie, call an ambulance!” while he attempted to get Catherine into a comfortable position.  When he looked up again she was still standing there in the doorway, a dazed expression on her face.  “Josie, call a goddamn ambulance!”
  Casey stood up with a look similar to the one Alana had given her, and went to the phone Alana had just vacated.  She dialed 911 and began to talk in a hushed, urgent tone.  Josie watched dumbfounded.  Rhiannon seemed to notice her daze, and stood up quickly.
  “You,” she said, drawing nearer.  “This is your goddamn party, why don’t you do something before those Lincoln kids kill us all?”
  “I-I…” Josie stammered, taking a fearful step backwards.
  “This isn’t a game!” Rhiannon screamed, advancing on her further.  “Do you understand me?  People are dying!  Our friends are dying, and all you can do is stand there and just stare!  THIS IS NOT A GAME!”  She threw herself at the stunned girl, and Adrian and Casey pulled her back almost immediately.
  Casey glared at Josie as she settled Rhiannon into an armchair.  “Josie, for fuck’s sake do something.  There is a goddamn war in your backyard so fucking do something.”
  Josie moved out of the doorway and headed back outside. When she got there, she wished she hadn’t.  Everyone was now on the lawn, either fighting themselves or tending injured people.  More Lincoln kids had materialised out of seemingly nowhere, and it did seem a war zone was in her yard.  Shards of glass from broken bottles littered the patio, and the railings around the patio were smeared with dark red blood.  Jess and Claire were ushering people inside, and a girl’s scream cut through the night.  Louise Mitchell, a little brunette sophomore came running from the side of the house, screaming for all she was worth.  She ran up the patio steps and fell hard against Josie.
  “Josie,” she pleaded.  “Call the police.  Please, oh God, please call the police…Grace…please, Josie, call the police…please…”  Her cried grew more urgent when she saw Josie staring at her with that blank expression on her face.  “Josie, do something, someone killed Grace, oh God, Josie, DO SOMETHING…”
  Someone grabbed Louise from behind and pulled her away from Josie.  Josie recognised the voice as Brian, and turned on her heel as Brian demanded, “What happened to Grace?”
  Louise sank to her knees sobbing.  “She’s…she’s dead.  I found her round the side of the house, she’s…”  She trailed off as Brian pulled her to her feet.
  “Show me.”
  They left the patio and Josie went inside.  This was her party; this was all her fault.  Everyone was shouting at her to do something but she couldn’t – couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything.  Not even to help her friends. She climbed the stairs slowly, heading for her bedroom at the end of the hall.  She couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even ring the police or an ambulance to help.  All she wanted to do was curl up in her soft bed and go to sleep and wake up in the morning and discover this was all a nightmare.
  When she turned on the light in her bedroom, the first thing she noticed was the blood spattered across her pretty pink bedspread.  The air had a funny smell to it, like gunpowder, and Josie started in surprise at the sight of the body on the floor beside the bed.
  She screamed.