Loser || WlW

Nineteen

Brittany pushes the car over sixty, tapping her finger against the leather steering wheel, her expression glassy.

"So," she lifts her sunglasses to the top of her head, "you passed out at work..." She takes a turn too slow. Someone swerves around us, holding their horn down as they pass. "And Claire offered to drive you home and then..." She shakes her head and her eyebrows pull together."How did you two end up at a party? And who roofied you? And where is your car? Where is Claire's car?"

"He wouldn't tell me who it was. Just that one of his friends was trying to get with Claire that night and she gave me her drink because she was driving."

Brittany's knuckles go white around the steering wheel. "That's not 'getting with' Claire. That's raping Claire." She slips her sunglasses back over her eyes."And if that micro dicked little boy could have kept it in his pants maybe my sister would be alive." Her voice cracks.

We ignore the silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

Mia Bradley's mother lives in a neighborhood resembling mine. Small houses with chain link fences around yards of dirt and dead grass.

Brittany pulls up to a small house with chipped paint and guarded windows.

I double-check the GPS with the faded number on the sidewalk. "I thought the Bradley's were loaded."

Brittany's eyes are cold as she looks at me. "Her dad was the breadwinner and most life insurance policies don't cover suicide." She pulls her purse over her shoulder and pops her gum. "Let's go see if we can solve a murder."

I can't help but wonder what kind of damage this is doing to Brittany. As she walks past a group of men who let out low whistles and call her a 'fine piece of ass', she doesn't respond. Her usual fiery temper and quick comebacks are absent; tucked away in a broken frame of who Brittany used to be.

"Hey." I hold my head high but my hands are shaking in my pockets. "Why don't you guys fuck off." I swallow hard. Where is this coming from? First at the party when I shoved the guy who was yelling at Grace and now this? This isn't me. I'm used to sticking to the shadows and avoiding trouble.

The four of them stand from the brick wall they were sitting on, puffing their chests out and keeping their chins up, as if it makes them taller. The one with tattoos up his neck and on his cheekbones steps forward.

"What did you say, little girl?"

Little? He's shorter than me.

"I think she was asking why you aren't in line at the welfare office where you belong." Brittany clutches her purse with one hand and raises an eyebrow at them.

He doesn't respond. Giggles erupt from his friends.

Brittany rolls her eyes, grabs my elbow, and pulls me toward Miss Bradley's house.

"No offense, by the way," she says.

I shrug.

Without another word, Brittany knocks on the front door. The door cracks open, revealing a pale face with skeptical brown eyes and small features.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Her voice is strong.

"Miss Bradley? I'm Brittany Davis. We were wondering if you'd help us with something."

Her eyes flick between us for a moment. She sighs and opens the door, motioning for us to come inside.

The house is different than I expected. Everything is clean and put away. It's like the outside of the house belongs somewhere else.

"Are you guys here about Mia?" She asks and flips the TV off.

"Yeah, actually." Brittany flashes me a look.