by J.T. Stoll
Vero staggered over the threshold of her home.
“¿Dios mío, mija qué te pasó?” her mom yelled, jumping off the couch.
She didn’t want to deal with that woman’s hysterics right now. She wanted to shower, to clean herself—she felt so dirty—and try to sleep. The strength from her soul armor was gone. Now, with its act of violence finished, Diotein had abandoned her to the aftermath.
“Accidente,” Vero mumbled.
No, that was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to have been in the accident. After the fight, she and Gloria had jumped away from the scene, depositing Dek’s body—minus the soul armor—in the flames of the gas station, just before the fire department arrived. They stashed all the weapons in Pieter’s car and drove away so that hopefully no one would connect her with the girl in the Britney Spears mask at the Trex station. Pieter had called 911 and gone to the hospital to get treated for the cut from Jed. And now she’d screwed up the story.
“You’re covered in blood!” her mom said. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Vero glanced around the room. No sisters. Good. They must be working late. “Not… my blood,” she said. “I’m fine. Just rattled.”
“Not your blood? What happened?”
Vero set her backpack on the floor. Luckily, her mom didn’t ask about the weird bulge sticking out the top: the towel-covered handle of her axe. That had seemed like the least conspicuous way to transport it.
“It’s Pieter’s…” Jed’s blood. Jed, whom she’d killed. “It’s Pieter. He got cut up from some glass. He’s in the hospital. Nothing serious.”
“Oh, my baby girl,” her mom said. She embraced her daughter.
Vero squirmed free. Soot and blood smeared all over her mom. The soul armor protected her clothing from burning, but it didn’t keep it clean. The mask, too, was now a black mess. Now her mom was stained, too.
“I’m fine,” Vero said.
“I… why didn’t you call me?”
To keep her mom out of this, to avoid that smothering comfort. Vero looked up and did her best to become her usual, cheery self. “It was no big deal. I’m just shaken up. A friend gave me a ride. But I really need to shower, okay?”
“Vero…” Her mom tried to hug her again. Vero slipped away into her bedroom.
She shut the door and removed the axe from her backpack. The blade was a bit cleaner than the blackened handle—they’d used some bottled water and grass to remove the blood. But at the moment, it looked hideous. She hid it under a pile of debris in her closet and shoved her armband into her sock drawer.
Vero went into the bathroom and let her hair down. It would take some serious work to get… tonight… out of that hair, to return it to the hair of a pretty senior with a popular boyfriend. Kristin and Carrie would laugh about the accident to cheer her up. Her sisters would sympathize for a few days then start cracking jokes. Her mom would stay worried for the next ten years.
She stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over her. They’d won, right? Jed was dead. The bodies were disposed of. Let the police figure out who the charred skeletons belonged to. The fight itself had only lasted a few minutes, mostly in a dark, empty park. As far as they knew, no one had seen them except maybe while they were in the air. And if anyone had witnessed them jumping, what then? Would the neighborhood report flying bandits? Even if someone had photos, they were wearing masks.
The gas station… she tried not to think about that one. The police wouldn’t look for her, right? From the reports, they’d think it was a suicide, right? That she’d died in the blaze. The only problem was that the body they dropped in the flames, Dek’s, was male.
Vero washed the muck down the drain until the water ran clear. She stayed under the warm stream and ran fingers through her hair.
They’re coming, little girl. They’re coming for your world. You’ve picked the wrong side.
What now? She didn’t want to ask that question. Jed and Dek were gone. Everything was fixed. Everything would be fine…
The water went cold. Vero turned it off and started drying herself. On the floor lay a messy pile of blood and soot: her clothes. They were trash now. Vero wrapped a couple towels around herself and wished the hot water had lasted longer. She opened the door.
Her mom waited in the doorway. “Vero…”
“Mom, I’m…”
“Yeah?”
She leaned into her mom’s arms and stayed there. Tears came to her eyes. Mom might be an overbearing, loud pain. She might be someone Vero never wanted her friends to meet. But her mom loved her. With only a handful of memories of Dad, the woman holding her was the only parent she had.
“You want to talk about it?”
She clutched her mom and held tight. Yes, she did want to talk about it. But not at the cost of the scrutiny and gossip of her whole family. Not at the cost of her mom and sisters ending up involved in this thing.
“Just a little accident,” Vero said. “I just need some rest.”
Her mom gave a knowing nod. “Okay, okay. Get your sleep.”
And despite wishing she’d been born in a family like Neil’s, despite that she lived in the ghetto of SLO, she didn’t want to let go. She dug her fingers into her mom’s back.
