Everyone's Got Something to Hide

The party was loud in that way where you can feel the bass in your teeth, and I was seventeen and designated driver for a group that barely knew I existed. Classic Friday night.

Jordan was already three shots in, holding court like he owned the place. He'd been on my radar for weeks - not like that, but in the way you watch a predator in the wild. I was basically a self-appointed spy at this point, documenting his every move on my finsta like it was my job.

"He's such a bull," I muttered to myself, watching him knock into a sophomore and not even apologize. "Bull in a china shop, bull in every conversation."

Sage was supposed to meet him here. My Sage, who'd been crushing on him since homecoming, who thought he was different than the other fucks boys who treated girls like disposable characters in their own coming-of-age movie.

I was her best friend, which meant I was the designated bull shit detector.

When Sage showed up, looking like she'd walked straight out of a Tumblr aesthetic board, I was already three drinks deep in non-alcoholic everything and ready to intervene if Jordan started doing his usual routine - the negging, the backhanded compliments, the way he made everything about himself even when you were talking about your grandmother's surgery.

But Sage didn't head toward Jordan.

She found me first, leaning against the wall in the kitchen like I was trying to disappear into the drywall.

"Sabrina," she said, and her voice had that edge it got when she was about to say something that would change everything. "You've been watching him all night."

"I'm watching out for you," I said, defensive because it was true.

She smiled, but it wasn't her usual smile. This one was sharper, like she knew something I didn't.

"I know," she said. "That's kind of why I needed you here."

Before I could ask what that meant, she was already walking away, moving through the crowd like she'd done this a hundred times, cat-like in her ability to navigate spaces that felt hostile to everyone else.

I watched them together from my post by the bathroom door. Jordan was doing his thing - talking over her, touching her arm like he had permission, completely missing the way her smile didn't reach her eyes. I took photos. Not for me, but for her. Proof. Evidence. The receipts she'd need when she finally admitted to herself that he was garbage.

But then something happened that I didn't see coming.

Sage leaned in and said something to him, and Jordan's face changed. The cocky grin fell away, replaced by something that looked almost like fear. She was cool, collected, saying whatever she was saying with the kind of precision that made me realize I wasn't the only one who'd been doing reconnaissance.

She was playing him. Fox mode activated.

He left ten minutes later. Not stormed off, but scurried away like he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Sage found me again, and this time she pulled me into the bathroom and locked the door.

"He thought I was going to hook up with him tonight," she said, her voice steady in a way that made me realize she hadn't been drinking anything but soda all night. "Instead, I told him I knew about the rumor he started about sophomore year, and that I had screenshots, and that if he ever pulled that shit again, I'd drop them everywhere."

"Wait," I said. "What rumor?"

"He was spreading stuff about me after I rejected him at homecoming," she said. "Calling me sl*t, saying I was easy. Gaslighting me when I confronted him, saying he never said anything. Classic manipulation bullshit."

I felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd go full vengeance mode, and I needed to handle it my way," she said. "But I needed you here because I needed someone to document it in case he tries something again. I knew you'd been watching him - I've seen your stories. You're not exactly subtle."

I felt seen in a way that made my stomach flip.

"So you used me," I said, but I was smiling because this was the most badass thing I'd ever witnessed.

"No," she said. "I recruited you. There's a difference."

We left the bathroom together, and for the first time all night, I didn't feel like the spy on the wall. I felt like her partner in crime, part of something bigger than whatever bullshit high school hierarchy tried to sell us.

"You're scary sometimes," I told her.

"Only when I need to be," she said. "Only when someone thinks they can bull their way through my life without consequences."