Tangled Up in Blue

by J. D. Brick

  “And you sure as hell ought to do a better job choosing your heroes,” Lugner sneers.

  And when Jason chimes in, mocking the quote I'd written about Blue—Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy—I feel my legs give way. I sit down, hard, with one word on my lips.

  “Megz.” A hot ache swells at the base of my throat. It makes me look weak, but I can’t stop the tears that fill my eyes. “But why would she...?”

  “She's been helping us since the beginning of the semester,” Jason says, scornfully. “She was stupid enough to get caught shoplifting. It didn't take much to convince her to help us out, let us know where you were, what you were doing, how you were reacting. Some friend she is.”

  I try to say something, but all that comes out is some kind of croak. I swallow and try again. “You blackmailed her?” All the expensive items Megz has shown up with over the last year flash into my mind. She's been stealing them.

  Lugner picks up his phone. “Like Jason said, it didn't take much convincing. She put you down as the contact on her arrest record. And there she was, crying her eyes out, giving me this sob story about being a foster kid and losing her scholarship from the state and boo hoo hoo. And I'm sitting there looking at your name, the bitch who stole the editor job away from my family. And I realize, there just might be a way to fix it.”

  “But. . .”

  “But then you decide to move out of the dorm and take up with this. . .war hero,” he laughs again, “with this dumbass name: Blue Danube? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Jason laughs too. I stare at him with what I hope are murderous eyes. Lugner's smirk returns. “We don't need to stalk you now, bar girl, since you've handed us your chicken-shit boyfriend.”

  My journal. I'd written all about how Blue called me bar girl in my journal. And I'd written all about what happened in Afghanistan. All about Blue's secret. And then I left my journal alone with Megz.

  Oh, God. Oh God, no.

  “We backed off for a little while since my nephew insisted,” Lugner continues, rolling his eyes and casting another disparaging look at Jason. “But I told your little shoplifter friend she better come up with something else we could use to run you off if she didn't want to end up in jail.” That nasty note of triumph is back in his voice. “And then, lo and behold, she came through.”

  He gets right in my face, and this time, I can barely make my eyes meet his. Because I know what he’s going to say. “Do you know what they'll do to your boyfriend when they find out what really happened over there? That he's responsible for the deaths of American servicemen? That he was off base without permission? That he lied about the whole thing to his superiors?”

  Lugner's garlicky breath strikes my cheek like a hammer. I twist my hands together, trying to keep them from trembling.

  “You really think he's a hero, Keegan? He's nothing but a coward. A liar. A criminal. Does his mother know the truth about him? Huh? What if the media found out that the heir to Bootstrap Enterprises let his patrol get wiped out?”

  I’m shaking my head. The rest of my body is shaking all on its own. I can’t do anything else. “No! It's not like that. Blue is not like that!”

  “Oh, yes he is like that. And what happens if the press finds out Virginia Cooke's granddaughter, the famous Screaming Bad Girl, was helping cover it up? Hmmm?”

  Lugner stands up straight. Jason watches him, obviously waiting to be told what to do. “How could you do this?” I spit at Jason. “I thought we were. . .I thought you were a decent human being. Is this really how you want to get ahead? You can't do it the right way? The honorable way?”

  And again, for just a second, I see something like regret flash across his face. But then it’s gone, and his features harden. “Don't you dare talk to me about honor,” Jason snarls.

  I shift my gaze to Lugner and take a ragged breath. “What do you want me to do? Resign? Fine, I'll resign. Jason can have this stupid job.” I again can’t stop the tears from filling my eyes and weakening my voice. “And if I do resign, you will keep quiet about Blue?”

  Lugner doesn’t say anything for a moment; he is studying me. “Resign and drop out. Leave Ikana. Leave town. Go back to grandma. And keep your mouth shut.” I can’t stop myself from gasping.

  “It's not enough for you to resign as editor,” Jason chimes in. “I don't want you around here, in the journalism building, on campus, undermining me as the new editor.”

  I can't catch my breath. There’s a loud, whirring noise in my ears: the sound of my world, my future, collapsing. Maybe Lugner sees a hint of struggle on my face. He leans toward me again. “If the army finds out, Blue will spend the rest of his life in a military prison, Keegan.”

  My heart pounds in my throat, strangling what I’m trying to say.

  “But you really haven't known him very long, have you?” Lugner's voice is again pure acid. “You can always find some other guy, some other hero, to fuck you. So what if Blue Danube rots in prison, huh?”

  “You son of a bitch!”

  Lugner shrugs. And smiles. I sit there for moment. Nobody says anything. I can hear police sirens outside, the sound fading as they get further away from campus.

  I nod and turn on my computer. Then I open a new email message and select the group contact I've stored with the addresses of the entire journalism board. Lugner walks around and stands behind my chair, and after a moment, so does Jason. Fucking lap dog.

  “Tell them you're resigning effective immediately due to personal reasons,” Lugner commands. “Tell them you have full confidence in Jason as the new editor of the paper.” He watches as I type out the message and hit Send, then puts his hand on my chin and lifts it up. “And be out of town by tomorrow night.”

  He lets go of my chin and blows out a heavy breath as if he's just been running. “It's late, and I'm tired,” he says to Jason, looking at his watch. And that's when I remember that Blue will be showing up at any time, like he always does, to walk me to my car.

  “Oh God.” I grab my phone and start texting. I don’t trust myself to call him. Hey there, I'm running late tonight. Don't come pick me up until 10, OK baby?

  Lugner cranes his neck to see what I’m typing. I shoot him the most hateful look I can muster. I've never despised anyone so much in my life. “How do I know you won't say anything about Blue after I leave?” I ask, standing up. “There's no way I trust either one of you!”

  Lugner shrugs again. “Once you're out of here, I don't give a fuck about Blue Danube. So as long as you leave and keep your mouth shut, we'll keep ours shut. You'll just have to live with that.”

  My phone buzzes: Okey, dokey, smokey. See you at 10. My knees almost buckle with relief. I'd been so afraid Blue would walk through the door. If he finds out what Lugner and Jason are doing, he might kill them. Or try to.

  I push past Lugner and Jason, leaving everything but my purse behind. I turn to look around the office, then glare again at Jason. “I hope you're happy with yourself,” I hiss. Then I shove the newsroom door open and run toward the building's exit.

  My hands are shaking so badly I can barely fit my key into the car ignition. I tear out of the journalism building parking lot and race the short distance toward the dorms. I’m praying Megz will be there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Confrontation

  Keegan

  I can see from the end of the hall that Megz' door is wide open. I want to barrel with fists clenched and a snarling face—Killer Keegan, raining justice down on Megz' lying, thieving, friendship-destroying head. But I can barely pick my feet up; it feels like I've already been running for miles and miles.

  By the time I step into the room, Killer Keegan has crumpled into Lame-Ass Crying Keegan. I sit on the bed that used to be mine and glare through my tears at Megz. She’s slouched against a pile of pillows on her bed, holding a red Solo cup and staring stupidly at a half-empty bottle of Jack on the desk. Mascara streaks run halfway down her cheeks.

  “I was expect
ing you,” she slurs, raising her cup in my direction before taking another swig and then setting the cup back on the desk. She still hasn't looked at me.

  “I'll just bet you were.” The last word comes out all weak and quivering. Dammit. I try again. “Megz, how could you do this to me? How could you? Why would you? Why?”

  She finally raises her eyes and looks at me. I think I see, for just a second, regret pooling there. Her mouth, for just a second, is trembling. But then her face hardens and when she speaks, the words cut into me.

  “Says the rich little brat who had everything handed to her her whole fucking life! You have no concept of how the rest of us have to live, do you?”

  I’m on my feet, lunging at her as I scream. “You know that's not true, Megz! You're just making excuses! You really think you can blame this on me!”

  She pushes herself off the bed and comes at me, shoving me. Before I know it, I've slapped her so hard my arm vibrates all the way up into my shoulder. I've never hit anybody before. That's not the kind of person I am. But when my hand smashes into Megz' face, some part of me feels a deep sense of satisfaction. I want to wipe away her sneer, make her feel some of my pain.

  I expect Megz to hit me back. I think maybe I want her to hit me back. Her eyes flare; she curls her lip and raises her hand, her fingers forming a fist. But then the hand opens, and she rests the palm on her red cheek and stands up straight, giving me this cold, defiant stare. “You've never been hit, have you, KeeKee?” She says it softly, bitterly. “Never once in your whole life, I bet.” She lets the hand fall to her side. We are still standing just inches from each other, both of us breathing heavily. “You want to know how many times I've been hit?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Well I couldn't tell you. So many times that I couldn't even begin to tell you.” She blinks back tears and picks the cup up, downing the rest of it. “So you just slap me all you want, KeeKee. I can take it. But it won't change anything.” She throws the cup on the floor and slumps back on her bed.

  I am not going to let myself feel sorry for her. I shake my head, determined to hold on to my anger. “Why didn't you ask me if you needed to borrow some money, Megz? Why'd you think it was okay to steal and then. . .and then help them screw me out of everything I worked so hard for? You think things have been easy for me? Huh, Megz? My mother died, my dad fell apart, my brother went to prison! You think that was easy?”

  Megz just stares up at me for a minute. “I've been a charity case my whole fucking life, KeeKee,” she scoffs. “I've had to take whatever hand-me-downs, whatever scraps of time and money people like you decided to give me to make you feel good about yourselves. I didn't want a loan from you.”

  She sits up and points at me. Now she’s the one shouting. “You have no clue what my life has been like! You have no clue about anything, you stupid, privileged bitch!”

  I take a few steps backwards, my hands up in a gesture of dismissal. But Megz isn’t finished.

  “I'm sorry your mom died,” she says more calmly. “I really am. But at least you had a mother who gave a shit about you. And you still have a dad who’d do anything for you. I don’t even know who my fucking dad was. And my mother only cares about drugs and whichever loser’s her boyfriend at the moment. Do you know what my mother let her boyfriends do? To me? You want to tell me how hard things have been for you, KeeKee?”

  I gasp, understanding what she means. “Megz. . .”

  “I don't want your fucking pity, don't you get that? I take care of myself. I took a pair of scissors and stabbed one of the boyfriends. I stood up for myself.” Her voice shakes. She can’t keep the child's pain out of her words. “And when I did, my mom threw me out like I was a piece of trash.”

  I close my eyes. “Megz, why didn't you tell me?”

  “I just said I didn't want your pity!” She’s practically spitting the words at me. “People like you and your rich grandma and Pastor Seth. I hate all of you! And even if I'd wanted to tell you, KeeKee, you were always gone. You were always at that fucking newspaper. That's all you care about!”

  “That's not true.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

  There’s a long moment where we glare at each other. A movement out in the hall catches my eye, and I turn to see a couple of girls lingering nearby. We hadn't thought to close the door. I look back at Megz. She's seen the eavesdroppers too. “Heard enough, bitches?” she yells, and the girls scamper away. Megz crosses the room and kicks the door closed, then falls back on the bed and puts her arm over her face. “Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful.”

  I stand there, staring at the Pulp Fiction poster on the wall: Uma Thurman stares right back at me, cigarette smoke curling above her head. The smoke and her black pageboy haircut, as well as something in Uma's up-yours expression, reminds me of Kendra. Someone else who's had a tough life. But Kendra didn’t let it turn her into a criminal.

  “I still don't understand.” I clear my hoarse throat. “I still don't understand how, why, you went along with Lugner and Jason, Megz. Okay, so you got busted for shoplifting. You couldn't have just faced the consequences and then moved on? I could have helped you, somehow. Maybe Virginia could have done something. Why did you have to. . .” I hate that I’m crying. “Why did you have to ruin my life, ruin my plans for the future?”

  Megz still has her arm covering her eyes. “You still don't get it, do you Kee? I didn't want your help or Virginia's help! And even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have done any good. I had no choice.”

  “You're so full of shit!” Every bit of empathy I’ve been feeling for Megz has vanished.

  “Yeah, well, I'm not the only one.”

  Neither one of us says anything for a moment. I hear my phone ding again. Megz sits up and stares at her pink socks. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to graduate from high school with a good GPA, KeeKee? When I was being moved from one foster home to another? From one school to another? No, of course you don't.”

  She pulls another cup from a package under her bed and pours out more Jack, then takes a long drink. “Well, it was almost fucking impossible. But I did it. And I got a full scholarship to Ikana. I thought I'd made it. I thought I could finally control my own life. But then I get here. . .” the wounded, childish tone makes her voice wobbly again, “. . .and everybody's got great clothes and nice cars and lots of money to do stuff. And I've got shit. My school expenses were paid, but nothing else. You know how all the rich-Daddy bitches on campus looked at me when I was walking around in hand-me-downs?”

  “So you started stealing.”

  Megz belches, then laughs. “Yeah, I started stealing. And I liked doing it. I liked getting away with it. 'Til I got caught. A criminal record would mean no scholarship, no college degree, no nothing for me. And there you were, Miss Blog, Miss It's Up to Me to Save the World, Miss Rich Bitch with your Lilly Pulitzer sheets, writing in your fucking diary with a $300 pen.”

  “I told you my dad worked his ass off to buy me that as a special gift, right after my mom died. You're jealous of my pen? You're unbelievable!”

  She laughs again, takes another swig and speaks to the ceiling as if she doesn’t hear me. “A fucking $300 pen. And she says she feels my pain.” Her gaze falls on me again. “And then for over a year, I've had to sit and watch you vomit all your shit into your journal. 'Oh, my rich granny is mean to me. Oh, I hope I get to be editor, that would just be so peachy.' Please. Such a nauseating little brat.”

  “You've been reading my journal? All along, Megz? How could you?”

  Megz crumbles the cup in her hand and fixes a cold stare on me. “Of course I've been reading it. What did you expect? And it worked out really well for me that I knew you wrote everything down in your ridiculous journal. And that you'd made enemies, KeeKee. Lucky for me, those enemies of yours could make sure I didn't lose my scholarship. All I had to do was tell them where you were, whether what they were doing was working, whether you were getti
ng scared enough to quit.”

  She smirks and licks her lips. “Did you like the whole Tyler angle? That was my idea.” The softer Megz I'd spotted, the one who regretted what she'd done, the person I thought I knew, is nowhere in sight now.

  “Why would you try to get Tyler in trouble like that? He never did anything to you.”

  “Well, his daddy sure did.”

  “What?”

  “Just another story you weren't around to listen to, Kee. I knew they'd figure out pretty quick it wasn't Tyler, and then you'd be even more scared, thinking there was some lunatic trying to kill you. But at least it would give Pastor Seth a little heartburn.”

  I shake my head and put my hands up again. I am done with Megz. I've just grabbed the doorknob when her voice, tinged with the slightest hint of remorse, stops me. “I told Lugner I wasn't going to do it anymore. Before I read your journal at the house. I tried to stop. But he threatened me. He said he'd make sure I was convicted, that I lost my scholarship, that I lost everything. He said I had to give them something that would make you resign. I didn't have a choice, KeeKee.” She put her face in her hands.

  “Bullshit!” I say. “You're just wallowing in self-pity, aren't you, Megz? And I handed you everything you needed on a silver platter with what I wrote about Blue, didn't I? You've put Blue in danger. You know that I love him. But you didn't even think twice about it, did you? Sisters before misters. What fucking bullshit!”

  I notice the diamond bracelet sparkling on her wrist. I've never seen it before. I point at her arm. “You get that bracelet from Lugner? Is that some kind of reward?” Then I hiss, “Or did you steal it?”

  Megz flinches like I hit her again, and for a second, I regret my words. But then she raises her head, and I see the malice flooding her face. “Actually,” she says evenly, “Hunter gave me this bracelet.”

  “Does Hunter know all about this? Does he know what you are? Of course he does. He's just like you. I guess that explains the attraction.”