by Trisha Wolfe
The scariest part is the chance I’ve lost touch with reality.
It’s happened before.
I quiet the pesky voice in my head. That was different. Jeremy was different. What happened on that beach happened to another girl—one that no longer exists.
Regardless, I’m too devoted now. I’m in too deep. My feelings for Carter are more than just carnal lust. We have a connection. No matter what happens, I can’t escape him now.
There was a long internal debate where I tried to convince myself not to come here tonight. That, no matter what temptation Addison puts in front of Carter, he wants me. But that annoying, incessant voice won’t shut up. The fear, the anxiety. The dread that he’ll find someone else. Someone better. The perfect, witty, good girl. The saint. Maybe that girl is Addison.
In the end, the fear is just too great; the need to know—to see with my own eyes—that Carter won’t betray me.
“Shit.” I breathe in and out slowly a few times to clear my head, then I open the car door.
Once I see Carter and know that Addison isn’t trying to steal him away, I can leave. My mind will stop fixating on her. I can do something as mundane as watch TV without the constant need to check his pages.
I pull my hoodie up to shield my face as I skirt the party and head toward an isolated seating area in the far back of the yard. There’s a few couples here, drunk, making out on chairs, but no one pays me any attention.
Finding a dark, shielded corner out of sight, I watch the giant window of the house. I can see the party happening inside as there’s little privacy, with every room on display. The filthy rich have no shame.
I search the crowd until I find Carter. He’s in a smaller clutch of people hovering near a firepit. Red cup in hand, he laughs at something another guy says. Annoyance spikes my blood when I see Addison. She’s right there beside him. She turns to him and touches his arm. Then she stands on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
Carter leans into her, braces his hand on her hip.
My body feels as if I’m tunneling through the earth, the ground devouring me. There’s no stop. Gravity is too powerful; my bones are bending. My skin feels tight. I’m feeling out of control.
I need to leave.
Only, I can’t tear my eyes away from them. Addison’s perfect hair, perfect laugh. The way she gazes up at Carter adoringly.
“I knew it…” My nails find purchase in my palms, and I start to tremble.
I somehow make it back to my car, but I don’t remember how. I’m in the driver-seat, hands gripped to the steering wheel. Time skipped a beat. I shake off the unnerving feeling and place a shaky finger to the ignition button, then a high-pitched shout startles me.
There’s a ruckus at the party. The backyard crowd swarms to one section, where they gather in a circle. That usually means a fight. Ignoring the temptation to stay and watch, I crank my car, then I hear a name called over the commotion.
Carter.
Logic fled a while ago, so it’s no surprise that I’d continue to ignore the rational voice pleading for me to leave. I grip the car handle—hesitate for two seconds too long—then I’m racing across the yard.
As I push through the crowd, the oohs and excited shouts mix with the sickening wet sound of flesh hitting bloody flesh. I finally force my way through the crush of bodies toward the center, where I see Carter on the ground with another guy.
Carter throws a punch to the guy’s stomach, and they roll toward the firepit. The other guy gets a hit in to Carter’s face. I wince, but it doesn’t faze Carter. He’s all fury and beast as he wails relentlessly on the guy’s abdomen.
A girl’s voice—Addison—shouts over the commotion about stopping the fight, and my heart seizes. I can hear the anguish in her voice. I feel that same freefall agony, the kind that tears at your insides, making you weightless and tossed around in a churning sea.
I don’t fear Carter being hurt. I fear he won’t stop.
“Come on, man!” Another guy, one wearing a BMA letterman jacket, moves into the fray. He grabs Carter’s arm and attempts to wrench him off. “Someone called the cops—”
A thorn of alarm punctures my chest. Another assault charge on his record would be bad; he could be sent away. I act on impulse, pushing past Addison. “Carter. Stop.”
My voice breaks through a layer of the frenzied haze, and Carter pulls back his fist. The pause gives the letterman jacket guy enough time to haul Carter away. The guy Carter had pinned to the ground is covered in smeared blood and dirt. He’s not moving.
Fear urges me toward the guy and, as everyone around scrambles to flee the scene, I press my fingers to his neck. Relief floods my body as I detect a pulse. He blinks his eyes open and his gaze lazily drags over me, so I pull back. He groans in pain, and I decide he’ll live.
My relief is short as I sense the heightened awareness of being watched. I look over and make eye contact with Addison. Her pretty expression contorts in confusion as she tries to place me—but she can’t. I’m just some girl she’s never seen before that happens to know Carter.
I make sure she doesn’t get a good look as I pull my hoodie up higher and hurry toward my car.
Carter is okay for now. He disappeared before any police arrived. The guy he pummeled will be sore and might have some broken ribs, but he’ll be fine. I duck inside my car and hit the ignition control, and a knock on the passenger-side window launches my heart to my throat.
The car door opens and a figure slips into the seat.
Carter stares at me through hooded eyes; one so badly swollen it’s barely open. “What are you doing here?”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out to touch his face. “You’re hurt.”
He grabs my hand. “Ellis, what are you doing here?”
I swallow down the anxiety trying to claw up my throat. “I don’t know,” I admit.
His severe expression softens. A smirk replaces the stern line carving his mouth. “You’re a little crazy, you know that, right?”
“I might be.” I’m aware of how I appear when I don’t control my actions.
He laces his fingers around mine. “I love that you’re crazy.”
“You might be a little crazy, too, then.”
He holds my gaze a moment longer before looking through the windshield. “So, no more Jeremy?”
My heart seizes at the mention of his name. I had hoped Carter would forget I ever said it. “Jeremy who?” I say, forcing a smile.
His mouth tips into a crooked grin. “We should go.”
I back out of the hiding spot and head in the opposite direction as all the other scattering cars. “Where am I going?”
“Take me to your place.”
“That’s not smart, Carter. Anyone could see you…”
He touches the swollen skin around his eye and grimaces. “They saw you here tonight,” he says, matter of fact. He pulls out his phone and swipes open a text message.
“What is it?” My heart beats wildly. Who saw me? Who is texting him?
“My friend Addison. She wants to know what old lady’s car I got into.” He laughs. “She can be…”
A bitch?
“Don’t tell her,” I snap. “You can’t, Carter. I was stupid to come here…I don’t know why, other than I just wanted to see you.”
He looks over at me. “I wanted to see you.”
Warmth rushes my body, chasing away all the cold uncertainty.
“Who was that back there?” I ask. “Why were you fighting?”
“Sully.” He says his name with disdain. “Some douchebag from my old school. He was… He used to go out with Addison. He said some dumb shit, that’s all.”
Addison again. This girl is starting to be trouble, as I knew she would be. I inhale a deep breath to fill my lungs, then release it slowly. I could reprimand him like a counselor, or a teacher or grossly, a parent. But the moment my lips met his, the dynamic of our relationship changed.
“I should tel
l you not to fight,” I say, taking a right onto my street.
“But you won’t?” he says, hedging. “Because it makes you hot, doesn’t it?”
I shake my head, a smile playing at my lips. I park my car in the driveway and angle toward him. Taking his hand in mine, I run my thumb over his bruised knuckles. Then I kiss the damaged skin.
“We’re a secret, Carter,” I say, my voice low, solemn. “We have to stay that way. Drawing any kind of negative attention… We just can’t do that.” I meet his eyes. “Plus, you can’t throw your future away over some douchebag.” I smile at him.
He leans across the console and touches my face. “I told you I’d do anything you ask.”
I bite my lip. Then: “Don’t fight, Carter. Walk away. Always walk away.”
He acknowledges my heartfelt request by clasping the back of my neck and drawing me to him. He kisses me tenderly, and I breathe him in. He smells like smoke and ocean and everything I’ve come to know as comfort.
I knew we had a connection the moment I read his file. Attempted murder, it stated. Carter had almost been convicted, and I, too, had been blamed for a crime. We’re the same, he and I. Carter and I are birds of a dark and twisted feather.
And that terrifies me.
One of us needs to stay rooted in reality, to be aware of what’s coming. The only constant we can depend on is change; nothing stays the same forever, and there are forces that want to tear us apart.
Carter is a fighter. But, no matter how hard you fight, sometimes, the universe changes course, altering everything we thought we knew—and there’s no fight strong enough to control fate.
11
Entropy
Ellis
According to the definition, entropy is a gradual decline into disorder.
The key word of the meaning is gradual. Anything that happens gradually should be predictable, expected, as you can see it coming toward you slowly, like a slow-progressing storm. Unfortunately, the slower the storm, the more time it has to build, the more catastrophic the damage.
There’s a storm brewing over Black Mountain Academy.
I first notice the shift in wind when I spot Sue in the faculty lounge Monday morning. She doesn’t look ill—actually, she looks better than she did before. Her cheeks are rosy from broken capillaries, most likely due to straining while she was hunkered over a toilet. But the color does her pasty flesh some good.
She’s purposely trying to avoid me; her eyes dart away every time I try to make eye contact. I send her a bright smile, and she hastily clutches her coffee mug and heads out of the lounge. I shrug internally, thankful that, whatever epiphany her sickness may have given her, she’s learned to mind her own damn business when it comes to me.
The rest of the day slogs on as usual. I counsel students on college, stress level, academics. Thankfully, there’s been no word about Carter’s fight at Alister’s other than a few tame rumors. The usual high school gossip.
I should feel alleviated, but I can’t shake this dark, looming feeling. Like I forgot to turn a burner off at home, and some disaster awaits me the moment I let my guard down.
I keep my focus on the task at hand, so by the end of the day, I’ve successfully brushed the wariness aside and grab my satchel to leave.
That’s when my phone beeps with a text.
I pause at my closed office door and open the message. It’s from an unknown number.
I know what you’ve done.
I drop my bag and stare at the phone screen. Ice-cold dread trickles through my body. All the possibilities as to what the message could mean…one more frightening than the rest. My instincts kick in and I’m already mentally packing essential items—until I realize something about the message.
The message is so vague… They’re bluffing. It has to be a prank. Otherwise the person would’ve announced what they know. I should ignore it, delete the text. In Black Mountain, the worst thing I’ve done is become romantically involved with a student. Which, yes, is a rather offensive discretion—but it’s not criminal. Carter is eighteen.
Against my better judgement, and because I know this message will grip me until I find out more, I reply:
Who is this?
The late bell rings, denoting that the academy is now closed, and agitation seizes my nerves. I wait. I have to find out what this person knows, or at least what they want. No one sends a prank message without some nefarious intent.
Finally, my phone vibrates with a text.
I’m someone who knows the truth, Lanie. You’re lying to everyone, but you can’t fool me.
The world tilts on its axis. The walls feel as if they’re closing in, wavering, and my vision darkens. I press my back against the door and close my eyes.
I breathe through the tightness in my chest and count to ten.
When I open my eyes, the room is still. I slowly punch out a reply to the sender.
Me: What do you want?
Unknown number: Soon.
“What do you fucking want?” I shout at the phone, but no reply comes.
I grip the phone in both hands and have to physically restrain myself from smashing it to the floor. I manage to find the seat in the middle of the office and sink my head between my legs, taking deep breaths.
Dr. Leighton…
I sit up and punch in her contact, and I notice the red smeared across my phone screen. At some point I tore open the healed wounds on my palms. “Damn.”
“Ellis?” Dr. Leighton’s voice is a balm to my frayed nerves.
“Reese, I don’t know what to do. I’m being threatened.”
There’s a lengthy pause where I listen to her sigh. “Is this really a problem for you, Ellis?”
My back straightens. “Someone knows, Dr. Leighton.”
“Someone? You know who it is, don’t you?”
“Sue,” I answer automatically. “She’s the only one that’s been a problem here. But…I don’t know—”
“You know how to deal with her, Ellis. The same way Lanie did.”
I bite my lip as I consider her words. She’s always been my touchstone. “I wanted it to be different here,” I tell her. “It was supposed to be different. I tried so hard.”
“I know,” she says, her voice soothing. “But change is hard, Ellis. We’ve talked about this. Change is the hardest thing a patient can ever do, and then sometimes… Well, sometimes little bitches get in the way of our growth.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right.” She laughs lightly. “Now, call me when there’s really a problem. Take care, Ellis.”
I end the call.
With renewed purpose, I push my bangs back and fix my hair. Whatever tears were threatening to spill over, I sniff them back. Then I set off to fix my problem.
I figured Sue would still be on academy grounds. She missed most of last week and, seeing as this school is her life, she’d be anxious to make up for lost time.
Yet, I’m surprised I didn’t find her in the lounge or student rec room; someplace where people congregate. She’s such a social butterfly. I find her in her classroom, tucked behind her desk. Alone. She appears to be grading papers and typing on her laptop. I don’t enter right away; I wait to see if she notices herself being watched.
I suppose one needs to be alone to do dastardly deeds such as taunt another faculty member.
With a light rap on the window, I enter and close the door behind me.
Sue jumps and looks up from her screen. “Ellis. You startled me. What do you need?”
I position myself at the front of her desk and grip the edge. “How did you get my number, Sue? From my file? The same place where you were snooping to try to find out about me?”
Her plain face twists in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I nod once. “Right. So the text messages. Those weren’t your doing.”
She huffs out a breath. “Honestly, Ellis, I have no clue why you’re upset.” She closes
her laptop and grabs the tote next to her chair before she stands. “But really, I don’t even care. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
As she attempts to head for the door, I grab hold of her arm. “What do you know?” I demand.
Her brows draw together and, with pure disdain, she looks at my hand and then up at my face. “I know that you’re a liar, Ellis. Masters from Boston College?” She mock laughs. “I’ve seen the way you are with the kids. Mr. Hensley in particular. I’ve heard the advice you’ve been shelling out. I highly doubt you’re qualified for this job, but you’ve somehow convinced Mr. D. that you are.” She snatches her arm free. “I’m going to make sure that changes.”
A slow smile curls my lips. “I knew it was you.”
She whirls around. “And I know you made me sick,” she fires back. “I don’t know how, but I know you did something. You’re not right, Ellis. You’re…off. You don’t belong here.”
Carter’s beautiful face flashes before my vision, and the fear of losing him, of losing us, pushes me forward. I do belong here. I belong with Carter.
“Wait…” I call out after Sue. She’s walking hurriedly toward the staircase. “There has to be something you want.”
I’ve seen the envy in her dirt-brown eyes. Every time she looks at my designer clothes and handbag, I’ve witnessed that misery in Sue’s expression, the desire to be more, to have more.
To my surprise, she halts on the landing right before the stairs. She keeps her back to me, but she waits.
“I’m sure if you dug into me at all, you know about my inheritance money,” I say, as I near her. “There has to be some compromise that can be made.”
She braces her hand on the railing. “What do you propose?”
I smile. It’s sad, really. To pretend she cares anything at all for these students, that she’s protecting them from me, when something as basic as money can sway her to forget all about her so-called convictions.
“How about five grand?” I offer.
She scoffs. “I’m almost positive that you didn’t attend Boston College,” she declares. “You’ll have to do a little better than that.”
