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He nodded, not understanding at all. When he reached his parent's table, his mother was sitting at a full table of guests, but his father wasn't one of them. Mrs. Greene dragged a chair over and plopped herself down beside his mother. She shooed him away quickly with her hand, and Tommy headed back into the crowd.
A shrill shriek of laughter caught his attention a few paces away. It took a moment to find the source, but a woman with long brown hair and a tight dress had her hand on his father's shoulder, and was doubled over laughing. A few other men were huddled in a circle around them, all red-faced and drinking liquor from small, crystal glasses.
Tommy pushed his way into them, and the laughter ground to a halt. One by one, everyone's eyes settled onto him.
"Hi, Dad," Tommy called out. He glared at each of the strangers, and their eyes turned cold in return. "I think Mom's looking for you," he added innocently.
His father gave a quick glance over his shoulder. Tommy could see the strange woman's hand had slipped away from him. "Enh? I'll... Yeah, I'll check on her in a minute, son. Dave was just telling a story. Why don't you go see if lunch is almost ready, bud?"
"They said it'll be a little bit longer," Tommy lied. "What's the story, Dave?"
His father threw up a hand. "Oh, I don't think it's really appropriate-"
A man with a thin red mustache waved the comment off. "I don't mind." Apparently, this was Dave.
"You ever been to a real dive bar, Tommy?" the man asked mockingly.
"Not recently, Dave," he replied blandly.
"Well, see, at a really shitty dive bar, kid, the waitresses there-"
"I think that's maybe enough," Tommy's father cut in. "Why don't we go see what your mother needs?"
His father grabbed him by the shoulders and turned Tommy away from the crowd.
But another voice cut in quickly. "Oh, hey! Let me introduce the kid to someone first!"
Another set of hands grabbed Tommy roughly from behind, turning him aside, pushing him away into the crowd. They were ten paces away out of the crowd, nearly back in the front yard again, before Tommy could dig his heels into the grass and skid to a stop.
"Who the fuck are you?" Tommy gasped, spinning out of the man's hands. It was another face he didn't recognize. "Get the fuck off of me, man."
The stranger held up his hands in mock defense, but he didn't move away.
"We're just tryin' to have fun here, kid. Get a soda. Go inside and watch some TV. Play your videogames. Go TikTok," he grinned.
"Go fuck yourself, you fucking creep," Tommy spat back.
It wasn't an elegant or clever response, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
He tried to brush past the man, and head back toward the party, but the stranger stuck out his arm again quickly, catching Tommy in the belly, knocking him backward.
The giddiness was gone. And all the anxiety and shame and fury of the past two weeks was there again in an instant. Tommy swung his fist hard.
The man was quick, though, and Tommy's knuckles only caught the side of the man's head. He had missed, and it had hurt. It hurt like a bastard.
Anger swelled rapidly to blind, mindless rage. He shrieked and dove into the man's belly, punching and tearing and clawing wildly at anything he could reach. Everything boiled over into red.
The injustice of it was too much. This absolute asshole was going to pay for every little bit of it.
