Hysteria

by Megan Miranda

  “Out,” he said.

  I didn’t look at Reid as I left. And I didn’t look at Jason as I walked through the lounge. But I could feel him smiling.

  I started taking sleeping pills again that night. Because it turned out the things I was most scared of didn’t really exist. It’s only real if you let it be, I thought as I drifted off to sleep to the boom, boom, boom coming closer.

  But in the morning, there was something dried and stiff across my shoulder. Drops of blood, sticking my skin to my shirt. I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I hissed and shivered. Because underneath the dried blood, a blister had formed and burst along one of the finger marks on my shoulder.

  I ran my finger along my skin and brought a dark drop of blood close to my face.

  Then I smeared it across the mirror, just to make sure it was real.

  CHAPTER 12

  I ran the faucet full blast, scooped up handfuls of water, and splashed them over my shoulder repeatedly, soaking my shirt, my arm, and the ends of my hair. I dabbed at the broken skin with paper towels and glanced in the mirror again.

  There were eyes over my shoulder. Blue, and curious. Bree stood too close, staring at the handprint on my shoulder—at the blood. Then she slowly raised her eyes to meet mine in the mirror. I jerked the wet shirt back over my shoulder. “It was an accident,” I said, and the words echoed around the bathroom.

  “Did she tell you to say that?” Bree whispered.

  “Did who tell me to say that?” I asked, spinning to face her.

  She shook her head quickly. “Never mind.”

  “No, Bree,” I said, because she was squeezing her eyes shut, which is what I did when I was thinking of something I didn’t want to think about. “Who?”

  She laughed quietly to herself. “Nobody. God, it’s this place, you know? I can’t sleep here. And now I’m losing my mind.” She laughed again. And then she seemed to realize she was alone. In the bathroom. With me. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

  “I get it,” I said, to make her stop moving away. “I can’t sleep here either. Not without sleeping pills.”

  Her cheeks tensed, like maybe she was trying to smile, but didn’t quite remember how. She left the room first. I followed as quickly as I could, but the door across the hall had already latched behind her.

  I stepped on a pink paper just inside my room. I unfolded it and swore under my breath. A violation form for unauthorized visitation. A revocation of all visitation privileges for two weeks. At least I could still see Reid during study hall. I was more concerned with the carbon copy obviously missing below. I cringed, thinking about it making its way to my parents.

  I had an e-mail from Reid, trying to find overlapping free time, since he also lost visitation and study hall privileges.

  I wrote back: I didn’t lose study hall.

  He responded: second violation.

  I didn’t respond to that. I got a knot in my stomach, thinking of another girl in his room. Which I knew was ridiculous. But still. I wondered if it was Taryn. And what they were caught doing. It reminded me that there was all this history here that I didn’t know anything about.

  I heard my name in the whispers throughout the classroom. Mr. Durham walked around the U-shaped tables, collecting our Lord of the Flies essays. He took my paper with the tips of his fingers, not even looking at me. But everyone else was looking, even more than usual. Like the new rumor circulating around school, making its way from wallet to wallet, was that I’d been caught in Reid’s room.

  “Slut.” I heard from somewhere across the room, followed by a few snickers. Okay, apparently not. Apparently the rumor was that I’d been caught screwing Reid Carlson in his room. Good to know.

  “Don’t listen,” Chloe said. She leaned toward me. “Next week, it’ll be something else.”

  Of course. Because here at Monroe, you could transform in a day. How quickly I had gone from girl-who-escaped-the-roof to girl-who-slashes-own-shirts-for-attention to slut.

  And then I started laughing. Horrible, really. But I was laughing. Because of all the things they could say about me, equal parts horrible and true, this was so far from the mark it was funny.

  We were treading water in the ocean, Colleen and I, Brian and Dylan, Joe and Sammy, and Cody Parker. We were out past the spot where the waves broke, drifting with the surfboards, all pointed toward the horizon.

  Colleen was hanging on Cody’s back, trying to dunk him, but not really. They all had their surfboards, everyone but me, but nobody was trying to do any surfing. It was just an excuse for us to be out here, on the beach for the surfers and not for the swimmers, which was full of tourists.

  Brian had one hand on his board and one arm wrapped around me, holding me up. I couldn’t tread water on my own with his arm around me anyway. His legs kept getting in the way. “Chill out, Mallory,” he’d said. “I’m not gonna let you drown.”

  But I couldn’t stop my legs from kicking, or my free arm from making small circles in the water. So eventually he hauled me onto his surfboard, so I was less annoying, I guess. But I guess that got pretty boring pretty damn fast, because, while Joe was still in the middle of a sentence, Brian untied the back of my bathing suit.

  “Jesus, Brian,” I’d said, trying to grab onto the back and tie it together again. But then Brian flipped the surfboard, and I didn’t even have time to take a breath. I swallowed salt water and broke through the surface, still choking on water, trying to stay afloat while simultaneously holding the back of my suit together.

  Brian laughed and pulled me toward him. And since I needed one hand to hold my top on, I couldn’t let go of him without falling under again. I held on tightly to his neck. Brian was laughing, but he was looking at everyone else.

  And Joe said, “Get a room already.”

  Brian said, “You’re coming tonight, right?”

  “Coming where?” I asked. And then I turned away and coughed again.

  “Party at my place,” he said, like I should’ve known. But I didn’t.

  And then Colleen said, “Still grounded.”

  “What about you? Are you grounded too?” Brian asked, never taking his eyes off me.

  I was still pressed up against him, and I could see Dylan out of the corner of my eye, watching us. So I said, “No. And my parents will be out anyway.” And then Brian kissed me on the mouth in front of everyone, and I didn’t pull away because I was still trying to figure out how to tie my bathing suit back on.

  “Let’s surf,” Dylan said. He paddled past me without a glance in my direction. Brian backed away, smiling, as I struggled to stay both clothed and above water at the same time. Colleen grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward her board. She didn’t surf. Never had. But she’d had that board for years, for situations exactly like this. The rest of them paddled closer to shore, sitting on their boards. Not quite surfing yet. Pre-surfing, maybe.

  Colleen turned me around and leaned down toward the water. She tied the knot, extra tight. “Asshole,” she said.

  I spun around, treading water a few inches away from her. “What’s your problem with him?”

  “What’s my problem? What’s his problem? You should be with someone else.”

  I looked at the guys, straddling their boards, waiting for a wave. “Like who, Dylan?”

  Colleen watched them as well. “No, not Dylan.” Then she dipped off her board into the water, level with me, looked directly in my eyes, and said, “Brian isn’t right for you.”

  “You mean because he’s older? You think I don’t know how to act? What to do? You think you’re the only one who can get an older guy?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Mallory.”

  “You’re telling me not to be stupid? Seriously?”

  Colleen had stared at me, like she was waiting for me to say what she knew I was going to say. I didn’t. But it didn’t matter. She knew I was thinking it. But she didn’t yell. She said, “You’re not like me.” Which did something to
the inside of me, because suddenly I couldn’t stay above water. Not while I was facing her.

  I started swimming away before she could see my face, but she grabbed onto my ankle as I swam. “Don’t,” she said, even though I still wasn’t looking at her. I kicked her off and swam for the surfboards. But she said it anyway. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Brian smiled as he saw me approaching. He pulled me onto his board, and we sat, facing each other, while people caught waves around us. But his smile made me nervous, the way he was kind of seeing me, but kind of not, and now Colleen’s words had settled into my head.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I forgot that I promised to help Colleen with something tonight.”

  Brian groaned and said, “You’re killing me, Mallory. Absolutely killing me.”

  I knew how I was supposed to feel when I was with him. Well, I knew what I was not supposed to feel. I wasn’t supposed to feel anxious. Not tense either. Or maybe I was. Maybe this was normal. I didn’t know. So I let him whisper in my ear and put his hands on my hips. And I listened to him list all the ways in which I was slowly killing him.

  None of which turned out to be the actual way that I killed him.

  It was funny. In a very unfunny way. But I couldn’t stop laughing. “Ms. Murphy,” Mr. Durham seethed. “Do you find William Golding humorous? Does he make you laugh?”

  “No, sir,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. And then I thought, Well I am hysterical, and I laughed some more.

  “Please, enlighten us. What is so funny today?”

  “This place,” I said, choking on my laughter. “And everyone in it.”

  “You’re excused, Ms. Murphy.”

  I wasn’t sure where I was being excused to, but the message was clear: get out. So I did. It was raining again. Misting, really. Like you didn’t even notice it was raining until you realized you were dripping wet.

  I went back to the dorm and dialed home. Mom answered on the first ring.

  “So,” I began, “there was a misunderstanding. It’s not a big deal, but there’s probably a form being sent home to you.”

  “What kind of misunderstanding?” Mom slowed her voice, and I could imagine her sitting down.

  “Well, I was doing some homework with a guy—Reid Carlson, actually—remember him?” Because I thought it might go over better if she did. “But I forgot to check in.”

  “I don’t understand. Check in where?”

  “His room. Like I said, it was a misunderstanding. It’s all straightened up now, but I lost visitation rights for two weeks. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?” she said. “Mallory, honey, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to become involved with anyone right now.”

  “I’m not involved, Mom. We were working.” My voice turned sharp, because I knew she didn’t want me in a boy’s room because she was worried about what I might do, not what he might do.

  “Please, Mallory. Please be careful.”

  I thought of the knife in my room. “Yes, Mother.” And I hung up the phone.

  I remained in the lounge until next period and endured the looks and whispers for the rest of my classes without making a scene.

  But after class, I had nowhere to go. Kind of ridiculous that I had been watching the second hand crawl along, mentally trying to push it around, when, really, I didn’t know what I was rushing toward. It was still kind of raining out, and I was in no hurry to return to my dorm room. Not when I’d be stuck there all night, by myself, with whatever was coming for me.

  I walked down the stairs after last period, and kept going after the first floor, until I was in the basement with the student store and, beyond that, the health center. Which was kind of a comical name, since it was just one nurse, and she only worked during school hours.

  I guess that’s why she was already packing up for the day. She paused when she saw me standing in her doorway.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Do you have any Band-Aids? The big kind?”

  She put her bag back down and walked to a cabinet over the sink. “I do,” she said. “How big are we talking? Let me take a look at the cut.”

  I instinctively turned my left shoulder so it was facing away from her. “Oh no, that’s okay.” And then, when she made no move to come closer, I added, “It’s just a blister.”

  “A very large blister,” she said, handing me a stack of Band-Aids. She went back to gathering up her papers and purse, and she slung a raincoat over her arm. “You know,” she said, filing papers into her bag, “there are avenues to report things here so you don’t have to go through the school administration. I am one of them.”

  My first instinct was that she was threatening me, that I was being reported for something by someone, but her words were too soft. Too careful. Like she was trying to tell me something. Like she knew something. Or thought I knew something. She cleared her throat and said, “I was on duty at the soccer game last week. Mallory, right?”

  I nodded. Then I realized she was saying she witnessed the fight with Jason, and I felt my face turning color. “It’s just a blister,” I repeated.

  She put a hand on the small of my back and guided me out of the room, locking the door behind her. “Okay,” she said. “But if it’s ever more than a blister, you know where to find me.” She stared into my eyes, and hers were this bright hazel, the type that could turn kind or mean or harsh or compassionate in a blink. “Somebody has to say something.”

  Her eyes were something in between at the moment.

  The mist had stopped, and people were back outside. I planned to drop my stuff in my room and see if I could run into Reid, who’d probably be heading back from practice soon. Or maybe he was already back. Because Jason was in our lounge. He was still in his practice clothes, socks pulled high over shin guards. His cleats had tracked mud and grass across the floor.

  His head was back on the couch, and Krista was hovering over him. She had a bunch of wet paper towels pressed to his cheek. “Get me something. It hurts.”

  “Go to the nurse,” she said.

  “She doesn’t like me. And besides, I have you. Family first, right?”

  Krista froze when she saw me. Jason tried to smile at me, but his lower lip was swollen and the top of his cheek was reddish purple, and he winced from the pain. “Your boyfriend fights dirty,” he said. Then a sound that must have been laughter escaped from his throat.

  I backed out the front entrance, my heart in my throat, and headed away from center campus. Away from the cafeteria. Away from anywhere Reid might be. Because I pictured Brian, using his fists, taking that kid on the skateboard down. And my lawyer saying history of violence.

  And me, pushing Danielle into the wall. And imagining doing the same to Jason. Wanting to do the same to Jason. And Reid, actually doing it.

  Not right for you.

  The irony was, he was entirely right for me. I understood exactly why he did it. Which is why I shouldn’t be with him. I shouldn’t.

  The ground was wet, and the mist hovered a little, just above the grass, but I saw the shape of a guy moving toward me, calling my name. Reid. I sprinted toward the gate, heading toward the old student center.

  But Reid ran too. The fog drifted up, above the grass, along the road.

  His hands gripped my shoulders, spinning me around. “Hey, I was calling you.” He didn’t know how much he was hurting me. I pushed his hands off.

  He was staring at me, breathing heavily from the run, and then I saw a flash behind him. Green, through the fog, moving along the road past the gate. Slowly, without stopping.

  Not real, not real, not real.

  Reid turned and stared at the spot where Brian’s mom could not possibly be, and when he turned back, his forehead was creased and he put his hand on my shoulder again.

  “What? What is it?”

  I jerked away.

  Reid pulled his hand back, and all the color drained from his face. He was still staring at the
spot where his hand had just been. I looked down and saw the dark red spreading on the scarlet shirt. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” he asked. “Did Jason do this?”

  I stepped back, my right hand over my shoulder. “Nobody did this. You beat him up.”

  “What? Jason?” Reid shook his head, then stopped and nodded. “He told on you—on us. I paid him back for it. Forget about him. Let me see your shoulder.”

  “You paid him back for it? You mean you punched him in the face.”

  “What the hell, Mallory? So I hit him. I was angry and I hit him. You’re really going to give me a hard time about this? You, of all people?” His clenched hand flew to his mouth, like he was trying to push the words back inside. And then he opened his mouth to say something, come up with some excuse, but nothing could undo that.

  “I didn’t mean because . . .”

  I waved my arm in front of my face, trying to stop the words before they arrived.

  “I meant because we’re . . .”

  “Just stop talking, Reid.”

  I stepped back, hands palm out toward him, shaking my head. The fog making its way inside, swirling and churning until all I heard was Reid, all I saw was the inside of Reid, and what he really thought.

  The mist was forming back into fog, like everything was happening in reverse. Death to life, rain to cloud, thickening around me. I felt the blood seeping out of me, and I waited for a moment, thinking it might reverse course or something, like everything else. But the drops kept running down the length of my arm, like tears.

  That night, the boom, boom, boom sounded hollow. Closer. Faster. Not so much like the beating of his heart. As my mind started to drift, I heard something else. The boom, boom, boom and then a scratching at my door, like an animal trying to get in.

  And a voice. “Please,” it cried. “Please let me in.”

  Not at all like the usual whisper I’d hear calling my name, asking me to wait.