The party was heating up and the music blared through the open door and windows into the parking lot. The air was cool as I pushed my friend into the parking lot through the small crowd gathered at the door. I called him my friend, but I had many friends at this point in my life. This particular friend was drunk and a little angry at the moment.
“Dude, she is in there letting those white dudes grind on her,” he said with exasperation that was quickly turning to rage.
“Easy bud,” I said, not wanting to see violence break out at my friend’s party. Another friend.
I set my crown and coke down on the hood of a car and turned to talk to him. “I mean… she isn’t your sister man…” I finally said with an obvious almost sarcastic tone.
He looked up at me and looked in my eyes. “If she isn’t my sister then your sister isn’t your real sister,” he said purposefully, daring me to care.
I cared. My fist lashed out faster than my thoughts, possibly faster than my anger. It connected with his chin and he immediately pushed me back. He was a much larger friend… I’ve found it normally pays to have large friends around. But not if you are fighting them.
By now all of our friends and mutual friends had poured out of the apartment party when word had spread like wildfire that there was a fight in the parking lot. We breathed heavily and looked at each other while deciding how much we still cared.
My roommate rushed out like Godzilla was chasing him and grabbed me as my right hand was sliding beneath my coat. I didn’t carry guns in college, but I did have my trusty Winchester blade that I had half drawn before I was tackled by Rob.
“No, let this motherfucker talk,” my yell came out over my interfering roommates shoulder. “I’m just getting started,” I almost screamed as more of my friends grabbed me. They had no clue what had occurred, they just could tell one of us was about to kill the other. Sadly this wasn’t a strange occurrence for my group during college. At least this time it wasn’t over a game of chess.