by MV Ellis
As Father Tobin is always screaming at us in mass, until spittle collects in nausea-inducing globules at the corner of this mouth, I’m going to burn in the babbling brooks of the hottest corner of hell.
“The usual. A bit of this, a bit of that. And a little of the other. You know how it goes.”
“Yeah I do. Clearly it goes straight to your demented head.”
“Fuck you. You can’t make out I’m crazy every time I disagree with you, or you don’t like what I have to say.” I one hundred percent can, and will call him out when he’s acting insane. Because if his best friend won’t, who the fuck else will?
Zeph turns back to Jagger, suddenly studiously ignoring me. “It’s more complicated than that, because she’s pure fire. And I mean that in both senses of the word. Without needing to ‘like’ her—because we’re not in fucking grade school—anyone with eyes can see that she’s fine as a motherfucker. That’s just a fact.” He’s not going to get any arguments from me about that.
“But what’s also a fact is that she’s a fighter.” He pauses as though recalling something. “She has this butter-wouldn’t-melt innocent demeanor thing going on the one hand, and on the other, she has a backbone of steel, and she’s not just going to break because we say a few harsh words. I don’t know anything about her, really, but I can tell she’s been through enough shit to hold her own here. So, when the opportunity to up the ante presented itself, I grabbed it with both hands.”
“And your dick,” Thunder throws into the mix, laughing.
“Yeah, that too.” Zeph’s features split into a rare smile.
“And do I need to ask how that worked out for you, or does the shit-eating cat-who-got-the-cream grin on your face say it all?”
“It says it all, but I’m still gonna say it anyway. It was by far and away the hottest fuck of my life. Hands down. No question. Period.” That’s quite the compliment coming from Zeph. He’s not known to blow smoke up anyone’s ass, or to give credit where it’s not due, or even where it is, a lot of the time.
“That good, huh?”
“Nah, better. So fucking good, my balls are still aching just thinking about it. I take back what I said earlier. She’s not fire. She’s way beyond that. She’s more like white hot molten lava, scorching a path through the earth’s core.” Don’t I know it… “Anyway, enough about me, because like I said, I’m clearly actually working the plan. What the fuck are you losers doing?”
“Dude, seriously, we’re really going to do this here and now, when we’re lit as fuck, not to mention tired and jaded?”
“Yeah, we’re about to do this now. We’re all here, and, as the saying goes, there’s no time like the motherfucking present.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s entirely not how the saying goes, but I’ll go with it. I’ll level with you here, I haven’t really had much chance to work the plan, yet.”
“Much chance, or much desire?” As ever, he’s lightning quick with his response.
“Both I guess.”
“I knew it. You fucking dirty ball sack.”
“Man, eat shit and choke on it. Before you jump to conclusions, you of all people should respect the fact that I’m not going to just blindly do something if I don’t believe in or understand it.” I’m his best friend, not a brainwashed cult member.
“And you don’t believe in supporting your best friend?” I swear sometimes he can read my mind. He squares up to me, chest barreled, fists curled, ready for a fight that I’m not about to give him.
“Don’t put fucking words in my mouth man, you know I hate it when you do that.” The day I just blindly follow him without question is the day it’s all over.
“Okay Mr. Le Claire.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Please do tell the audience playing along at home exactly what your issue is. I for one am all ears.”
“Same issue I’ve had since day one. I just don’t understand on what basis you think she’s connected to the videos, apart from merely coming onto your radar at the same time they did. She’s never said or done anything to indicate or suggest that she knows anything about them, let alone is responsible.”
After the initial video, he’s now received several more over the past few weeks. They’ve all been in a similar style as the first, hinting at knowing something, but never revealing exactly what, yet each one seems to suggest more and more that it’s something to do with the night we’d both rather forget.
“That’s just it, though. I got the first one the day she arrived at school, and now everywhere I turn there she is, and the videos keep on coming.”
“Come on man, you’re a smart guy. Possibly psychotic. Probably psychotic. Okay... definitely psychotic, but also undeniably smart. You can’t seriously believe that’s anything more than a coincidence? Can you...?” My words hang in the air between us. “Zeph? Because that would be like me saying that because it rains every time I put up an umbrella, it means I’m causing the rain by putting up the umbrella. It’s a fucking coincidence is all; there’s no causal link between the two things.” I wince at my own use of such a corny phrase. I sounded like Mr. Butler, our eight hundred year-old Physics teacher. Shoot me now.
He shrugs. “You don’t even own a goddamned umbrella. I don’t believe in coincidences, and I don’t trust anyone. Something wasn’t right about that day, and you know it—and now the videos, and this chick? I believe there is a connection; we just need to find out what.”
“Do we?” I raise an eyebrow skeptically.
“Yeah we do. We also need to keep the agreement we made. We stick to the plan. We work the plan. We nail the plan. We nail her.” I’m definitely down for the nailing part, but I doubt he’s thinking of it in the way I mean.
“Oh, yeah? And what if we choose to see the situation for what it is—a screwed up coincidence—and move the hell on?”
He glares at me in a way that is clearly supposed to convey the fact that I’d better stay the fuck out of his way for as long as humanly possible, if I want my head to stay firmly attached to my shoulders. Without even looking, I can feel everyone else’s eyes on us.
“Then ‘we’ better fucking look for a new best friend.” With those words, he hurls his empty bottle into the firepit and stalks away as it shatters into a thousand pieces, and crackles in the dancing flames.
Chapter 19
Blake
* * *
It’s Sunday afternoon, which is fast becoming my favorite time at school. The place is pretty much a ghost town, which dramatically reduces my chances of more run-ins with Zeph or any of The Fallen, which I’m thankful for.
As much as Zeph is a walking health hazard to me, there’s a vibe they all give off, which, if I’m honest, scares me a little. Or a lot, depending on who it is, and when and where I encounter them. I guess when I really think about it, it’s an ever-present air of danger... or volatility... or menace. Like everything is only okay in their presence until it’s not.
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the crazy twins, or Jazzy, or the rest of the Hoes, today either. I guess everyone’s still feeling wrecked from the night before. I don’t know what it’s like to be so fucked up that the rest of the next day is a total write off, but that seems to be the norm around here. As much as the teaching faculty turn a blind eye to the kids’ nocturnal activities, they equally seem to conveniently ignore the fact that the place is full of the walking dead every Sunday, and sometimes even into Monday.
The one “great” thing about being the child of a raving alcoholic is the fact that I hardly ever have more than a drink or two. The idea of being out of it, and out of control, scares the ever-loving shit out of me. Seeing what my dad can be like in that state has been an excellent deterrent, in the worst possible way.
Instead of sleeping off the comedown, like just about everyone else in the school, I head to the library to spend the day the same way I spend every spare moment when I’m not studying—trying to find out where my mom could be, or what the fuck can
have happened to her. Most importantly, trying to figure out how the hell I can go about proving that her disappearance isn’t just a case of abandonment.
I do most of my research on my laptop, but I like to do it in the privacy of the library to avoid the risk of Geneva looking over my shoulder and seeing something I don’t want her to, then having to explain what I’m doing, or, more accurately try to lie to her to cover up what I’m doing.
Not that misleading her would be a first—when I finally found her to leave the party, I brushed off her enquiring glances, telling her I’d been delayed looking for my purse, which technically was only a partial lie.
I had been looking for my purse when I accidentally fucked the absolutely worst possible person in the world to screw in the laundry—or anywhere, for that matter, and then fooled around with his best friend.
The ride home from the party was weird, the more I think about it, especially because Geneva quietly nodded her acceptance of my admittedly lame explanation for going AWOL without another question, or even a raised eyebrow. On a normal day, if I try to hold out on her she turns her piercing stare on me and I freeze, then squirm and spill my guts.
This time she spent the rest of the journey staring out of the car window in silence. I felt like the worst friend on the planet the whole way. Not only had I lied by omission, but I could see that something was going on with her, and I didn’t ask her about it in case it encouraged her to probe further into my situation. So I maintained the silence, and rode back to school riddled with guilt for more reasons than one.
“Need me to loan you bail money, or provide an alibi? You were with me all night, right?”
The words are spoken right into my ear and cut jaggedly across my thoughts. I nearly jump a mile in the air, because, though the person has managed to get up close and personal, before that point, I had no idea there was anybody here with me.
Maybe I’m the only kid in the school who’s not a shapeshifter. It’s certainly starting to feel that way. They all seem to have an uncanny way of apparently appearing literally from nowhere, where I, on the other hand, manage to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, all the time.
“Shit!” I clamp one hand over my mouth to stifle the scream and slam my laptop closed so hard with the other, that it causes a chain reaction, catapulting my notepad into orbit—spinning in the air like a frisbee, and toppling my open water bottle.
I jump up, flapping around, trying to set the bottle back upright.
“Fuck!”
“Ssshhhh!” The ancient librarian hisses extra loudly, totally defeating the point of silencing me. Besides, the library is empty except for me and the owner of the voice, so there’s nobody to be quiet for.
“Language. Ten Hail Marys for you.” The voice is light and full of laughter.
As freaked out as I am by the sudden intrusion, I’m barely listening while I scramble to move my laptop out of the wet patch on the desk. I dig into my book bag to find something to mop the mess up with, but find I have no napkins, or Kleenex. In desperation, I grab my hoodie and use that. “Oh, and for the record, it’s too late, I saw everything, but don’t worry, Bambi, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone where the bodies are buried.”
I spin on my heel and find myself thrust against a wall of muscle. I instinctively raise my hands to shove him out of the way, even though, as I do it, I know it’s totally pointless. Sure enough, not only does he not budge, but he grabs my wrists, squeezing hard. This shit is getting real old, real fast.
“Let go before I start screaming.”
It takes me way too long to realize that the rock hard and taut body doesn’t belong to Zeph, or even Tyce—the only other one of The Fallen I’ve actually had any kind of “dealings” with.
“Go ahead. But that will for sure get you banned from the library, which I’m guessing you you’d like to avoid, given you hide out here to do your secret Harriet the Spy business way too often to want the whole school to know you’re involved in a murder plot—” He booms the last few words like a sports announcer. Even though we’re alone except for Mrs. Castle, I’m just about ready to commit a murder for real. He lowers his voice a little, “Now, do you?”
Wait. How does he know how often I’m in here? Has he been watching me?
“Jesus, will you keep your voice down. Please!”
“Sounds like you need to take your own advice there, little Bambi. Not only are you in serious trouble with the law, but you’re yelling in the library, plus cursing and blaspheming, too. I don’t think Hail Marys are going to be enough. You’re going to be banned from here, sent to jail for whatever the hell it is that you’re trying to cover up, and you have a one-way ticket straight to hell. Sucks to be you right now.” He doesn’t know how accurate that statement is!
“I’m not trying to cover anything up. It’s research for a project. Not that I owe you an explanation.” Thunder throws his head back and laughs low and loud. I wonder if that’s how he got the nickname, rather than because of his surname—Rumble. It certainly fits.
“That’s enough! Whoever you are, you have a detention coming your way.” For someone so tiny, Mrs. Castle has an unexpectedly booming voice, and clearly she’s a total hypocrite, given she’s repeatedly breaking her own rules by yelling at us.
I freeze as I hear her footsteps approach, clattering heavily on the pristine antique parquet flooring. Shit. I can’t afford to do anything to jeopardize my scholarship, so a detention is the last thing I need. Not that a single detention is enough to get me thrown out, but I just don’t want to risk being seen as anything other than an exemplary student.
As the thoughts race through my mind, I figure the only thing to do is to make a run for it. Mrs. Castle definitely isn’t about to take out any Olympic golds for sprinting. I’m fairly certain I can duck away out of sight before she finds me.
I try to jerk my hands away from Thunder’s grasp, but he won’t let go. In fact, he does the exact opposite of what I want, squeezing my wrists even tighter and pulling me flush against his hard body. WTF?
I open my mouth to give him an earful, but he beats me to it.
“Shut up and just follow my lead.” What? I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, until I do.
His lips on mine are a total shock, and on reflex, I jerk my knee up towards his junk, while trying again to extract my hands from his grasp. I fail in both attempts, and he grips my hands even tighter—painfully so—and somehow pushes himself harder against me, blocking my leg from lifting. I don’t miss the bulge of his dick through his tight jeans. Christ.
Then in a flurry of arms, legs and hard muscle, I find myself somehow lying flat on the library desk alongside my laptop. Again his lips press down onto mine. They’re full and firm, and totally uninvited. I continue to struggle, managing to turn my head sharply to the side and away from his.
“Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” I hiss the words loud enough for him to hear, but hopefully too quiet for the elderly librarian to pick up on.
“Jesus Christ, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for. I. Said. Go. With. It,” he hisses back. He’s making no fucking sense, but I don’t get the chance to argue as he turns his head again, and slots his lips back against mine.
It’s not a kiss, it’s a fight, and one I’m determined to win.
“Oh! Oh my goodness! Oh deary me! Oh no!” The voice from behind us startles me, and I can only guess by the multiple shocked exclamations that we do the same to Mrs. Castle. I‘d almost forgotten about her impending arrival, on account of the tower of muscle pressing down on me.
Thunder draws his lips from mine and turns to look at the librarian over his shoulder.
“Oh, Mr. Rumble, it’s you.” The utter dismay in her voice is obvious, even though I can’t see her face. “I should have known.”
“Really, Mrs. C? What exactly should you have known? That I’d be in here on a Sunday, doing homework and studying for my calculus exam with my study p
artner, so as not to break the ‘no fraternizing with the opposite sex in the dorm rooms’ rule?” His tone is firm, and the unspoken threat in his words is abundantly clear.
“Who is that?” Her footsteps pick up again.
“Stay right where you are. It doesn’t matter who it is. You know all you need to, which is that I’m here, and no rules are being broken.” I can hear the clench in his teeth as he speaks. “Now, unless you’re planning on joining us—” He snickers, and I vomit into my mouth a little at the thought of his invitation. “I strongly suggest you head back to your desk, and remember to forget you even saw me.”
“I... uh... okay, I…” I totally understand her confusion. She’s not the only one.
“K, thanks. Bye.” He dismisses her as though she’s an annoying kid in the cafeteria, not someone old enough to be his grandmother.
Nobody moves or says anything for an extended moment, but then Mrs. Castle’s footsteps start up again, this time going away from us, and accompanied by muttering I can’t make out. Honestly, I don’t blame her. The way The Fallen have the run of this place, and seem to control everything and everyone in it, makes no sense. What the hell is with that?
As soon as I think she’s far enough away that she’s not coming back, I start to wriggle again.
“Get the fuck off me.”
“All in good time, Bambi, but talking to me like that is no way to thank me for saving your ass, is it.”
“Are you insane? How do you figure you saved me?” I don’t even try to mask my irritation.
“Well, I don’t see a detention slip in your hands, do you?”
He has a point... kind of. “No, but if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have done anything to earn myself one in the first place, so...” I shrug.
Nor do I need a hard body pressing up against me, pushing buttons I definitely don’t want pressed.
“True, but that’s a boring way to look at it, because you can’t tell me this isn’t getting you off, even just a little.”
