Boy in the Mirror

by Robert J. Duperre

  She saw the hurt look on his face and softened her tone. “Look, I know you’re upset about Todd leaving. I just wish you’d talk to me about it. It came out of nowhere.”

  “It’s a long story,” he said.

  “We have time, Drew. Come on, just let me in already. What’s this all about? What really happened at that party?”

  Drew’s mouth twitched.

  She sat down on the bench beside him. He edged away slightly, holding the folder filled with papers to his chest.

  Hannah batted her eyelashes. “C’mon, babe. There’s so many rumors going around, it’d be nice to know the truth. Not knowing what happened at my own boyfriend’s party makes me feel like an idiot, and I don’t like feeling like an idiot.”

  “Listen, it’s…‌it’s nothing. Todd got himself in a little trouble is all.”

  “So I heard. Jordan flattened Todd, blah blah blah, Jordan quit the football team…‌ugh! Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Drew stayed quiet. Hannah leaned against the locker, and a dark thought entered her mind. Her eyes flicked in Drew’s direction.

  “Is the other rumor true?”

  Drew tugged at his collar. “Which one is that?”

  “The one that says Todd was about to take advantage of the new girl?”

  He averted his eyes. “Yeah.”

  She sat up with a start and slapped both her palms against the wooden bench. “Dammit!” she shouted. “Drew, I got myself involved in this. I talked to her! She probably already called the cops! What if I’m implicated? What will Vassar think if I have an accessory to sexual assault charge on my record?”

  Drew held his hands out, palms toward her. “Calm down, Hannah!” he said. “There’s no charges. Jordan got there before anything happened.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Then why hasn’t the girl been in school?”

  “I don’t know. Taking some mental health time? Sheesh! How am I supposed to know these things?”

  “Were you involved, Drew?” She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

  “A little.”

  Hannah glowered.

  “Hannah, it was nothing,” Drew whispered. “Todd said he wanted to make a movie, so I let him set up his camera. And you should’ve seen the two of them. All over each other. How was I supposed to know things’d turn out bad?”

  “She’s only fifteen.”

  He stared sidelong at her, squinting. “And? If I remember right, you suggested Todd go for her.”

  Hannah opened her mouth, shut it. She might’ve said something like that to Todd, but she thought for sure he actually liked her. Not that he just wanted some conquest.

  “Boys,” she said with a sigh.

  “We make mistakes,” said Drew.

  “No kidding.” She slumped lower on the bench.

  Drew reached out and caressed her hair. She rolled her head into his hand and gazed into those hungry blue eyes. She then pointed at the folder he still clutched tight to his breast.

  “Drew, what’s that?”

  “It’s private.”

  She batted her eyelids. “Private? From me? I thought we shared everything?”

  “You don’t wanna get involved.” Drew said.

  “Show me the damn folder.”

  “Fine.” Slowly, he placed the folder in his lap and folded his hands atop it. “Ready to have your mind blown?”

  “Try me.”

  Drew handed it to her, and she flipped it open and rifled through the papers. They were photocopies of newspaper articles, website printouts, and police reports. Her eyes grew wider and wider, a stone dropped in her stomach.

  “Holy shit,” she said in disbelief. “I remember this. That was her?”

  “Yup,” Drew said.

  “That poor girl.” She closed the folder and looked Drew dead in the eye. “What the hell’s going on?”

  He took the folder from her hands. “I’m getting even.”

  “Wait a second. You’re not going to…”

  Drew nodded.

  She shot up from the bench. “You can’t! That’s just…‌that’s just…‌it’s evil, Drew! You can’t torment the poor girl…”

  “Since when have you cared that much about someone else’s feelings?” he asked. “Sure didn’t bother you when you wrote PIG in lipstick all over Natalie Lowen’s locker.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “It was last year, babe.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Trust me, this needs to happen. Jordan beat the shit outta my friend, which means he obviously cares about that girl.” A wicked grin came over his face.

  “Is it worth it? I mean, really?”

  “Yup.”

  She got up and paced the slender space between the two benches. “I can’t believe this. It’s gonna blow up in our faces.”

  Drew put the folder down and stood. He took both her hands and held them, gazing deeply into her eyes. “It won’t. And you don’t have to be a part of it. I’ll do it with Yoel and Kurt.”

  “I don’t like this. I’m your girlfriend. What you do reflects on me.”

  “Well, sure,” he said. “This is just your big strong boyfriend getting even with the people who had a hand in his best friend’s family getting shipped outta town.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. Dad didn’t want any bad press.”

  “Oh,” said Hannah. She squeezed his hands. They might not have been super close emotionally, but they’d been together long enough that Hannah actually cared how he felt, and he seemed pissed enough to blow.

  “Promise it’ll only be once,” she said.

  “I promise. And don’t worry about Jacqueline. She’s just some random girl. A blip on the radar. Even if everyone in school knows it’s me, no one’ll care. Trust me.”

  Hannah looked at him, knowing she shouldn’t. Drew leaned forward, his lips meeting hers. They kissed deeply. Hannah moved with him, her hips gliding back and forth, endorphins flooding her brain. This was what Drew was good at more than anything. He helped her forget the hard stuff. He’s right, she thought. What do I care about any of this? She reached down and undid his jeans.

  “Be gentle,” she whispered, tenderly biting his earlobe. “I have a runway show this weekend.”

  “Of course,” he told her. “Always.”

  A moment later, Jacqueline Talbot and her unfortunate past were all but forgotten.

  CHAPTER 32

  It was like the first day of school all over again.

  After two weeks at home, butterflies fluttered in Jacqueline’s stomach during the morning bus ride. She was so nervous that she actually talked with the spiky-haired boy who shared her bus stop. His name was Brian, and he was really nice.

  Only a couple kids asked where she’d been; most simply went about their morning rituals, talking, laughing, or just sitting quietly with tired looks on their faces. It was just like any other normal day.

  Maybe the party wasn’t on everyone’s mind, after all.

  Jacqueline swallowed her fear as the bus pulled up to the school. She joined the line of students as they exited.

  Her confidence rose as she walked toward the front entrance. Small groups gathered in their usual spots—just like on the bus, no one paid special attention to her. Jacqueline’s steps quickened. She couldn’t wait to see Annette, Olivia, Neil, and Ronni.

  She touched the compact in her pocket, felt Mal’s warmth infuse the old metal, and smiled. Everything’s gonna be okay.

  The crush of bodies was thicker in the hub. Jacqueline kept her head down and followed the flow. Someone pressed up against her, and she veered to the side. Again she was shoved against, and this time a soft chuckle followed while breath tickled her ear.

  “For Todd,” a malicious voice whispered.

  Jacqueline swiveled her head as she walked. Drew Cottard was matching her stride-for-stride. Her heart raced as she picked up her pace, trying to merge with the people in front of her. She counted to
ten and looked over her shoulder. Drew was standing like a statue in the middle of the hall while the flood of teenagers surged around him.

  Facing forward again, she hastened around the corner, dread rising with every step. There was commotion ahead of her, hundreds of voices talking at once. When she reached where her locker was, a wall of people blocked her way. Annette’s voice shouted from somewhere in the middle of the throng.

  Jacqueline elbowed her way into the human barrier and emerged in front of the lockers to find her tiny waif of a friend standing there with her hands held out as if trying to ward off evil spirits. Annette’s eyes darted in her direction and widened.

  “Jackie, no…” she began.

  That’s when Jacqueline noticed that the lockers were covered with taped-up sheets of paper. A black-and-white image of Jacqueline’s own ten-year-old face smiled back at her from one of them. Just to the left of that was another face, a man with wavy hair, a slightly crooked nose, and sad eyes.

  Daddy?

  Jacqueline’s mind went blank as she looked at each sheet of paper. Annette was saying something, but Jacqueline couldn’t hear her. Hands grasped at her coat, but Jacqueline shoved them away.

  There had to be at least thirty pages taped to the lockers. There was a picture of her when she was six; a family portrait from when she was a baby, when her mom was still alive; others showed a burned-down church.

  The most common images were of her father. One picture was a mug shot, her dad’s hair unkempt, his gaze glassy, a twisted smile on his lips. Each picture had an accusatory headline printed above it, revealing the horror of her childhood for everyone to see: “337 DEAD IN CHURCH FIRE,” “THE SCOURGE OF LAKE SALEM,” “LOCAL MAN CONFIRMED TO BE THE LAKE SALEM ARSONIST.”

  More hands grabbed at Jacqueline, and she fought them. The world fell away, her body went numb. She snatched a page off the locker, one showing her dad standing with an older gentleman. There was an article printed beneath the picture, and even though she knew exactly what it would say, she read it anyway.

  Lake Salem resident Joseph Talbot turned himself in to police today in connection with the fire at Good Faith Pentecostal that killed three hundred thirty-seven people eighteen days ago in what has been called the largest case of mass murder in Vermont history. Talbot, a widower, is described as a quiet man. Neighbors have expressed shock upon learning his involvement. According to his admission, Talbot disconnected the gas line feeding the church’s kitchen and rigged a series of nine pressure cooker bombs before barring the doors. Among the dead was Nathan Silver, pictured above, the CFO of D&D Wholesale, along with twelve members of Talbot’s own extended family…

  Jacqueline let the page flutter to the ground. She looked up and saw a final picture, taken the day before Joe Talbot was executed. She leaned forward, her fingers tracing his every imperfect feature. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Jacqueline screamed, and the world came roaring back.

  Numerous voices, including her own, assaulted her ears. Her grief released in an undulating wave, vibrating her very soul, until her knees turned to jelly and she collapsed. Her vision went hazy. “Mal, help me,” she muttered, clawing at her pocket. Someone shouted for the nurse, a teacher, anybody. Jacqueline blubbered, snot pouring from her nose, arms and legs quivering.

  “Please, help!” she heard Annette shriek.

  “Get out of the goddamn way!” shouted an angry male voice.

  Strong hands lifted her to standing. Jacqueline’s neck felt like rubber as she flopped to the side and stared at Jordan Thompson. Jordan’s eyes brimmed with fury, and he held her with one arm while tearing the pages from the locker with the other. “Get these down now!” he bellowed.

  Students came forward, yanking down the pages. Annette collected those horrible reminders of a past best forgotten, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Jordan pulled Jacqueline closer, and looked down at her with concern. He squeezed her tightly and faced the crowd. “Someone find Principal Butler,” he demanded. “Enough of this shit. I’m bringing her home.”

  Annette handed the collected pages to Jordan, who folded them roughly and shoved them in his back pocket before helping Jacqueline to the exit. Her knees were rubbery, her heart raced. She noticed the students around her and the horrified, sympathetic expressions they wore. Jacqueline started crying all over again.

  A soft hand caressed her cheek. “I’m coming with you,” Annette said.

  “No. I need you to talk to the principal for me.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply before hauling Jacqueline down the hall. Jacqueline put one shaky foot in front of the other, wavering between steps.

  “I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  So am I, she thought, but couldn’t say.

  CHAPTER 33

  Aunt Mitzy had rushed home from work, and now she sat at the dining room table across from Jacqueline and Jordan, lips locked in a scowl as she picked up one sheet of paper, stared at, and then moved on to the next. Her eyes narrowed. Jacqueline felt at a loss for breath.

  “Jesus,” Mitzy said, staring overlong at one particular sheet. She pushed herself away from the table suddenly and disappeared into the kitchen, banging around pots and pans. Jordan raised an eyebrow at Jacqueline, who shrugged. She was glad she didn’t have to talk.

  When Mitzy finally came back into the dining room, she folded the page she’d been staring at and stuffed it in her purse. She was still in her work clothes, and there was a handprint smudge of flour on her slacks. Mitzy cleared her throat. “I’m pissed,” she said. “Any idea who did this?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jordan replied.

  Jacqueline raised her hand. “It was Drew.”

  “Drew, as in Drew Cottard?”

  Jacqueline nodded.

  “You sure?” Jordan asked.

  “Pretty sure.”

  Mitzy’s painted eyes narrowed. “Why would he do it?”

  “He said, ‘For Todd,’ when I walked into school.”

  Mitzy sat back in her chair, folded her arms over her chest.

  “I’ll snap his neck,” Jordan muttered.

  Jacqueline could sense his anger, and it was like guilt on top of guilt. Jordan had no reason to feel so protective of her. She felt entirely unworthy of it. Tears dribbled down her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop them.

  Jordan hesitated before putting a consoling arm around her. Now that he wasn’t in the heat of the moment, he seemed awkward, unsure. Jacqueline squirmed away from him, not wanting to feel more indebted than she already was.

  Mitzy reached across the table. Her fingers brushed the back of Jordan’s hand, and he flinched. Mitzy smiled at him kindly.

  “Thank you for what you’ve done, Jordan,” Mitzy said. “That’s twice now you’ve protected my girl. It’s very much appreciated.”

  My girl. Jacqueline cried even harder.

  “Just trying to help, ma’am,” Jordan said quietly. He again reached for Jacqueline, and this time she let him touch her.

  Mitzy cringed as she always did when someone called her that. “Well, you have. More than we could’ve ever asked for. But Jackie’s home now, and she’s safe. I want you to get back to school. I think Jackie and I need some alone time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mitzy moaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Um, okay…‌what should I call you?”

  “Mitzy’s fine. Or Miss Sarin if you want to be more formal.”

  He smiled uncomfortably. “Okay, Miss Sarin.”

  “Better.”

  Jordan glanced at Jacqueline, and it looked like he wanted to hug her, but instead he simply patted her shoulder and stood up. Mitzy walked him to the door.

  And then he was gone. Mitzy came back into the dining room, picked up the stack of damning leaflets, and walked toward the rear of the house, grabbing lighter fluid and a pack of matches from the cabinet beside the back door. She gestured for Jacq
ueline to follow.

  A charcoal grill sat beside the porch, and Mitzy placed the pages atop the grate, sprayed them with lighter fluid, and then struck a match. Aunt and niece stood back, watching the papers go up in flames. Images of Jacqueline’s past blackened and poof, they were gone.

  “Ancient history,” Mitzy said.

  Jacqueline sniffled.

  “He was a good man, Jackie,” her aunt said. “No matter what he did.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because I know.”

  Jacqueline shook her head. “He was…‌he was…‌a monster.”

  “No, sweetie, he wasn’t. Not all the time, anyway.”

  They went back inside and sat together on the couch. Jacqueline sniffled, feeling numb inside, hollow, used up. Mitzy held her, stroked her hair, comforted her.

  Gradually, Jacqueline composed herself. She sat up and wiped her cheeks. Salty liquid dripped over her lips and into her mouth. “I can’t go back,” she said glumly.

  “Go back?”

  “To school.”

  Mitzy frowned. “I know you feel that way, but you have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they can’t win.”

  Jacqueline hung her head. “Why not? They always win.”

  “Not if you don’t let them. I don’t think kids are as mean as you think. And I know this hurts now, I know it seems impossible, but you’re as powerful as anyone I know, sweetie. You’re a bull in lamb’s skin.” One corner of Mitzy’s thick lips lifted in a half-smile. “Remember how you fended off a certain former foster father. You’re stronger than you think. Much stronger.”

  Jacqueline sniffled. “I’m not. That happened once. At the party I was helpless. Today I couldn’t even stand on my own. I’m pathetic.”

  “You’re not pathetic. You were drunk at the party. You were taken by surprise today. It would happen to anyone. You just have to find the strength you have inside you and harness it.”

  “How do I do that?”

  A series of beeps sounded from the kitchen, and Mitzy grinned. “I think I know the perfect way to start.” She patted Jacqueline on the knee and hustled out of the room. Again pots clanged in the kitchen.