The Clique

by Jay Mason

  Alex could feel her temper rising. With a great deal of effort, she said calmly, “You’d better get off to practice. I’m sure you need it.”

  Bethany ran forward and draped herself over lanky red haired guy. “Where did my baby go?” she cooed. “I lost-ed you.” She giggled. “Looks like you got all dirty. You should have waited for me.”

  The girls clustered round him, teasing. Alex made her escape.

  Ironically her next class was chemistry. Alex dived into the nearest restroom and did her best with paper towels and liquid soap, but the figure looking back at her in the mirror remained grimy. Her face and hands were clean, but the rest of her looked — unsurprisingly — as if she had been rolling in dirt. Alex sighed and picked up her bag. It was not like anyone was going to care.

  In chemistry she carefully followed the experiment the professor had laid out for the class. Rusty was on the bench behind her and for some reason that was making it harder for her to concentrate. Just as she was about to complete the final reaction she deliberately added sulphur dioxide instead of chalk. The liquid in her beaker churned wildly for a moment and it satisfyingly erupted like a mini volcano, bubbling violently and throwing out chunks of disgusting goo. Alex jumped back in alarm; utterly what she hoped was a girlish cry of horror. Rusty also, jumped. “What the …” he began. Then he turned to look at her experiment. “Oh my,” he said, his eyes going very round. A gob of goo headed towards him, he leapt aside with an agileness that Alex hadn’t expected, and the goo landed dead centre in the delicate crystal experiment he had been doing for extra credit. The crystalline structure shattered, sending shards everywhere. People screamed and scattered. Mr. Zybslaw shouted, “Enough. In your seats now!”

  He came over to Alex’s experiment, which continued to belch softly. “What have you done now, Morgan?” He asked. “You are living proof of nature versus nurture, you know that?”

  “No,” said Alex, who knew exactly what he meant.

  “Your apple fell a long way from the family tree,” continued her professor. “You will stay behind after class with Gibson to clear up this mess. You will also work with Gibson, in your own time, to repair his experiment.”

  “No sir, please. That’s not necessary,” said Rusty pleadingly. He flushed bright red.

  “Oh, but it is,” said Mr. Zybslaw smiling unkindly. “She might even learn something from you. Class dismissed.” The rest of the students filed out. Alex closed her ears to the comments aimed at her. Rusty stood beside his bench fuming.

  “Do you want to do it now and get it over with?” asked Alex.

  “What?” said Rusty startled.

  “Your experiment. What did you think I meant?”

  “This isn’t something that can be done in five minutes,” snapped Rusty. “Besides the bench has to be perfectly clean and that’s going to take a while.”

  “Whatever,” said Alex rudely. Privately, she felt sorry for him. She hadn’t intended to spoil his work, only her own.

  “Whatever!” cried Rusty. “Whatever. You ruin an experiment that I’ve been working on for six weeks and all you can say is whatever!”

  “Six weeks!”

  “Six weeks to plan,” said Rusty. “I’m not the fastest worker. It’ll only take a couple of hours to repeat.”

  “Hours,” echoed Alex.

  “Yeah, today was the last bit. I’d been working on it for a while. Hadn’t you noticed, Morgan?”

  Alex shrugged.

  “I need this to pass the class.”

  “Really? Heading for a spectacular d-plus, were you?”

  “Yeah,” said Rusty, “and thanks to you squawking like a startled pigeon and your- your– whatever, I’m going to flunk chemistry and get thrown out of college.”

  Alex swallowed. “It can’t be that bad,” she said. “I mean, you’re not a total doofus, are you?”

  Rusty’s eyes blazed at her. “You must be the most annoying girl I have ever met. But you are damn well going to help me get this thing done right.”

  “Okay. Okay. I guess we can come one evening. College is open till eight.”

  “No, I can’t do the evening,” said Rusty. “You’ll have to come to my house.”

  “What?”

  “I just can’t. That’s all. You needn’t worry my mom and little sister will be there to see I behave.”

  “Okay,” said Alex. Rusty’s tone and the tense way he was standing unsettled her. “If it’s easier we could go to mine. My Mom has a chemistry lab set up at home. She wouldn’t mind. Would make sense to use that.”

  “No, you need to come to mine. I need to be at home this week. I’ll email you when.”

  Alex opened her mouth to speak.

  “No,” said Rusty, “don’t ask me why. I just do. That’s all. Now, come on, let’s get this mess cleared up. There’s gloves under the sink. You don’t want to touch this stuff with your bare hands.”

  An hour later the lab was finally clean and Alex had learned something about Rusty. Despite his claim to be on course for a d-plus, he not only knew his way around the lab, but knew without asking Mr Zbyslaw what chemicals he need to neutralise the various parts of the disaster. He also calculated the ratios without resorting to a calculator. Their professor might not be paying them much attention except to look up from his marking occasionally to demand, “You still not finished?”, but Alex knew a natural chemist when she saw one. Rusty was a great deal more competent than he was letting on. She was intrigued. Working with him on his project might be interesting after all. Rusty had a secret and Alex specialised in unearthing secrets. Besides he’d taken her destruction of his work far better than she would have dealt with it if it had been the other way round. Could it be this college actually had one nice guy in it? Pity he was a bit gawky looking and even more of a pity he liked cheerleaders. Maybe when he learned to think with his head he might be worth knowing. As a friend of course, she didn’t have time for anything else, but a friend might be nice. It had been a long time since she’d had one of them.

  When they were finally finished, the professor inspected their work by running his finger along their benches and then licking it. Alex, who was used to her mother’s somewhat carefree manner among dangerous materials didn’t flinch. Rusty blenched. “Right, I don’t appear to be dead,” said Mr Zbyslaw. “You two can go.” They left the room together.

  “Do you think he was actually watching what we did?” asked Rusty.

  Alex shrugged. “Maybe teaching us he’s lost the will to live.”

  Rusty frowned. He clearly didn’t like the idea that the professor might have seen him be competent. “I wonder,” he began …. When he was interrupted by a squeal.

  “Rust-y-kins,” called Bethany, running down the corridor towards them. She threw her arms around his neck. “I am so sorry, sweetie pie, but I can’t go out tonight.”

  “We weren’t going to,” began Rusty.

  “Only Savannah has had the bestest idea ever for a USP for the lunchtime club. I can’t tell you yet. It’s a big, big secret. But if you’re really nice to me I might give you a clue.”

  Alex attempted to sidle away.

  Bethany’s tone turned sharp. “What were you doing with her?”

  “She messed up my experiment. She had to help me clear up.”

  Bethany kissed Rusty swiftly. She looked across at Alex. “As if it’s your big brains I love you for,” she said with a sneer.

  Alex made a vomiting gesture and left.

  Rusty watched her go with mixed feeling. Alex was doing her best to seem careless and hostile, but he sensed she was far sharper than she let on. There was something about her that intrigued him. Bethany gave him another kiss. He closed his eyes and responded. For a moment he found himself imagining he was kissing Alex. He broke off, horrified. Bethany simpered at him and for a moment, Rusty seriously considered whether this pretending to be dumb was worth it. But then, he had to admit that Bethany was very pretty and very obliging. He owed it to
her to treat her well. “How about I take you out to dinner and movie on Saturday?” he asked.

  “What about the latest Iron-Bar horror movie? We could sit in the back row?” said Bethany giving him that wicked little grin he loved. He kissed her again and this time Alex was totally banished from his mind.

  Back home Alex failed to get in without being noticed. “You’re late and you’re filthy,” said her mother. “Those jeans are absolutely ruined. I don’t know where you think money comes from young woman, but I will not be supporting you for the rest of your life. You need to get your finger out and actually qualify in something.”

  “What happened?” asked her father.

  “Nothing,” said Alex. “Nothing happened. Leave me alone.” She fled up the stairs to the sound of her parents arguing about her again. She slammed her bedroom door and locked it. Then she sat down on her bed breathing hard. Her fists clenched as she heard the row continue downstairs. All about her. All over again. When would they understand there was nothing wrong with her? Never, whispered a voice in her head, never. Because there is something wrong with you. You’re not normal and you know it.

  Alex sat down at her computer and began typing an email to c0nundrum. “What the hell have you got me into?” she wrote. “I’m grateful those discs worked, don’t get me wrong, but what was that? Did you know it was there? Did you know there was a demon under the college?”

  A email returned almost instantly — as if he had been sitting waiting for her message. “It’s not a demon,” wrote c0nundrum. “No, I didn’t know precisely what you would find. But I know one thing. This is all going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Don’t give up, Alex Morgan. You and your unique skills are needed.”

  Alex reread his email several times. C0nundrum knew her real name. If he knew that, he might even know where to find her. Alex pulled the power on the computer. The email on the screen vanished.

  Her mother called for her to come downstairs now, but it took a while for Alex to unlock her door. Her fingers were trembling so much.

  2. The Doctor is In

  “May I remind you that you are grounded?” Irene’s voice might sound calm, but Alex could already see the tell-tale twitch of her Mom’s left eye that meant a storm was brewing inside her. “Goodness knows what you were doing to get your clothes in such a mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if the media turn up on our doorstep given your past exploits.” In her sharp suit with her long hair drawn back in a tight ponytail, Alex’s mother, quivered with rage. Her razor-like cheek bones and chiseled features gave her more the look of an avenging amazon than a research chemist.

  “Now, Irene, you know that’s ridiculous,” said Lewis, Alex’s Dad. “Don’t be so hard on the girl. When you were her age you wanted your fun too.” In distinct contrast to her mother, her father, looked like he had barely escaped from the eighties with his life. He was wearing shabby corduroy jeans and his brown hair was mussed on top of his round, normally cheerful, face. As he tried to intercede between his daughter and his wife, he twisted one long leg around the other and crossed his arms. He looked, Alex thought, like some kind of giant Gordian knot.

  “When I was her age,” snapped Irene, “I sitting my second year exams at Oxford. Not living at home with my parents and running around like some savage.”

  “We can’t all be super-brains, Mom,” said Alex.

  “Actually genetically research would suggest that coming from two high IQ parents you should be a high achiever,” said her dad.

  “Maybe I got swapped at the hospital,” said Alex. “Besides you can’t ground me. I’m an adult.”

  “You’re an adult when you start behaving like one,” said Irene. “When you start contributing to this household and paying the bills or are enrolled on a serious academic programme then we can talk to each other as equals, but until you manage either of those, Alex, you remain a little girl to me — and a badly behaved one at that.”

  “If you could try a little harder,” broke in her father. “I’m sure there must be something you are good at. Perhaps the sciences aren’t for you. Maybe you should try something in the arts faculty.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lewis,” said Irene, flushing red with anger. “What good have the arts ever done the world?” “Oh I don’t know Mom. How about Shakespeare? Or Chaucer? Or Picasso? Or …”

  “Shut up!” shouted Irene.

  Her outburst brought the argument to a halt. Irene’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You deal with her, Lewis,” she said. “I can’t.” And she hurried out of the room.

  Lewis sighed. “I’m sorry Alex. I have to agree with your mother. You can’t go out tonight.”

  “I have been trying to explain, Dad,” said Alex through gritted teeth. “I ruined this boy’s experiment by accident yesterday and now the professor has said I have to help him re-do it. He can’t come into school to do it this evening, so he’s invited me to his house. If I don’t help him he’s going to fail.”

  “Ah, well. I see,” said Lewis, scratching his head. “Did you tell your mother this?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. I only said I wouldn’t be in for dinner tonight and she hit the roof.”

  Lewis lowered his voice. “It’s something she’s calling pot-luck. I wish I could come with you.”

  “Then I can go?”

  “Just a moment,” said Lewis. “Darling,” he called up the stairs. “I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. Alex was going out to help a classmate with his homework.” He paused and then added. “She’s going out to see a boy.”

  “What difference does that make?” asked Alex.

  “Ssh,” said her dad. “Keep your voice down. Your mom and I started dating around your age. Irene will think you are doing something positive. You’ll see.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. To her surprise her mother came back down into the hallway. “Who is this boy?”

  “Rusty. He’s in my chemistry class. I mess- ouch!” She squeaked as her father stepped on her foot.

  “Rusty? Is that a name?” asked her mother.

  “A nickname. He has red hair.”

  Irene paused, “Bright red hair and a little sister?” She exchanged looks with Lewis.

  “I don’t know,” said Alex. “This is the first time he has invited me home.”

  “Well, I suppose it would be rude of you not to go,” said Irene. Lewis gave her a thumbs up from behind his wife’s back.

  “You might brush your hair first and whatever you do don’t mention we had you exorcised at three!” Irene gave a nervous high pitched laugh. “And wear something girlish for once.”

  Alex bit her lip. “Yes, Mom,” she said. “I’ll go and change now.”

  “Okay,” said her mother.

  As Alex went upstairs she heard her mother say, “I suppose it could skip a generation. Her children might …” she thrusted her fingers in her ears and ran the rest of the way up.

  In her bedroom she pulled her one summer dress out of the closet and scrambled into it. Then she sat down at her dressing table and brushed her hair viciously. Tears stung her eyes, but she told herself that was only the knots.

  When she came down again, instead of finding her mother waiting to inspect her in the hall, her father was waiting jingling his car-keys. “I’ll give you a lift if you like,” he said.

  “No thank you,” said Alex.

  “It’s no trouble,” said Lewis.

  “She wants you to check where I am going, doesn’t she?” said Alex.

  Lewis’ face grew a shade redder. “Come on, Alex. You haven’t been helping yourself out recently, have you? She’s got every right to know where you are going. She’s your mother.”

  “And I have every right not to get in a car with a man who had me incarcerated somewhere for a whole year. Somewhere I can’t even remember properly,” stormed Alex. “The kids at school think I was in a loonie bin. You know that, don’t you?”

  “We explained,” said Lewis sadly. “You wer
e in a recuperation centre. Your final year exams at High School were too much for you. Your mother and I put too much pressure on you. You had a nervous breakdown. We sent you to the best place possible.”

  “Then how come I can remember nothing about it?”

  “We told you, Alex. The treatment …”

  “Oh whatever,” said Alex opening the front door. She stepped out and slammed it decisively behind her.

  “Medically, there is no such thing as a nervous breakdown,” she said angrily to herself. “It’s just a polite way of saying someone went insane. And I didn’t!” Her raised voice drew a startled look from a nine year old on his bike. He wobbled alarmingly and then pedaled off at high speed. Thinking of the picture she had presented him with drew a slight, ironic smile from Alex. She kept her thoughts to herself until she reached Rusty’s house.

  The town was small enough she’d hardly needed to use the map app on her phone, but a lot of the houses close to the centre all looked the same — white clapperboard with even identical small plants hanging in baskets over the porch. At the other end were the posher studier houses build of stone and brick. The address Rusty had given her was in a respectable area, but in stark contrast to her own larger stone home.

  She turned a corner — and it even had a picket fence around it, like the ones she’d seen in the movies when she lived back in the UK — and looked up from her phone. She needed to find number 11. She spotted it quickly. She stood at the end of the path and hesitated. The porch steps and the windows were clean, but the whole house had a slightly dilapidated air. A few of the sills sagged and the paint was flaking in patches. Suddenly she felt embarrassed. Embarrassed for Rusty. Alex couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew somehow that something inside was wrong.

  At that moment one half of the double glass door opened and a man came out. He was middle aged, of medium height, with short cut blonde hair that showed the beginnings of silver, and wearing a suit that fitted him perfectly and even Alex realised probably cost more than a family car. He watched his footing on the porch steps, but when he looked up he looked straight at her and gave her a charming smile. Alex had heard people being described as charismatic, but this was the first time in real life that she had seen such full on charm.