by Sara Wolf
“Down the hall and to the left. Dance floor’s boring without you. Get some girls grinding. Preferably without starting a fight this time.”
I wink at him. “No promises.”
Girls and guys are already sloppy-making-out on the couch, and the beer pong game is well into its seventh round. That’s how I know I’m really late.
“Isis!” Heather shouts. “It’s about fuckin’ time! I was gonna text you to get your butt over here but…but I forgot my lock code thingy!”
“It’s 5429, girl, we changed it yesterday,” I remind her. “Where’s Tyler?”
Heather sniffs. “Tyler and I aren’t talking. He’s a douchebag.”
“But you are making out with him tonight,” I say.
“Duh.” She rolls her eyes. “You were right. He’s hells my type.”
After a very drunk Tyler once tried to suck my lips off my face, I knew exactly who to set him up with—the girl on campus with the legendary lips. They’d been going out ever since with the fervor and rough visual resemblance of two crocodiles eating each other’s faces. I like playing matchmaker almost as much as punching jerks. Almost. It warms my heart to see two people happy—even if that happiness is based on torrid and repeated sexual encounters versus, you know, an actual relationship. But who am I to judge? I’ve never had an actual relationship. Or an actual sexual encounter that wasn’t awful.
A song comes on with booming bass, and Heather squeals and grabs my hand, dragging me to the wood dining room that’s been converted into a dance floor. Once I make sure Mildred or Jack isn’t here, I get lost in the music, laughing when Heather tries to twerk drunk in six-inch heels. She leans over and kisses a guy who isn’t Tyler, and it’s then I realize I’m not special. A lot of the people here—heck, maybe most of them—are kissing a guy, or a girl, to forget the kiss of someone else. We’d all rather be kissing that one special person, but for some reason, we can’t or won’t. So we’re here.
I’m not special. It just took me a while to come down to everyone else’s level, is all. It just took me a while to get desperate enough to forget.
That’s all.
I wade off the dance floor and pour myself a rum and Coke, downing it as fast as I can. It burns. But, hell, everything burns nowadays. A headache blindsides me, so I go outside and sit on the steps where the cool air can calm my throbbing head.
“You really did a good job,” a voice says. Nameless, in a sweatshirt and jeans, sits beside me with a grin. “Losing weight, I mean. That was a lot of meat to lose. I’m impressed.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I snarl. When did he get here? The urge to run consumes me, but I stand fast. No, not this time. I came here to have a good night. I won’t let him ruin it, or drive me off, or influence my actions in any way, really.
“Oh, we both know you did, Isis.” He chuckles. “You picked at your food in the cafeteria. We used to take bets on it—if you’d eat the single celery stick you picked out or not. It was pretty gross.”
I’m not as weak as I used to be, and I’ll show him that. He can’t taint me with any more darkness. There’s no light to snuff out in me anymore. I’m all shadow now. He’s just hosing down a campfire that’s underwater.
“Remember when you fainted?” His chuckles get loud. “Oh shit, that was good. It was in the middle of PE dodgeball, and you just—”
He goes stiff as a board and falls to the side, coming up laughing.
“What do you want?” I ask coldly.
Nameless shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Just wanted to say hello. I know Tyler, and I wanted some whiskey, so I came down. The girls here aren’t half bad. You’re a different story.”
He’s lying. He used to be better at it, or maybe I’ve just gotten better at reading liars?
“What do you really want, asshole?”
He looks surprised and starts clapping. “Oh, wow. Asshole. You haven’t had the guts to say my name for three years, let alone insult me. I’m impressed. My compliments to your shrink.”
“I never went to one. I didn’t need one.”
He chuckles.
“You can fool them, but you can’t fool me. Anybody with half a brain could see you wanted to die. No one stopped you.” He leans in and whispers. “Maybe they wanted you to die. Ever think about that?”
A volcanic vent oozes from my heart, spilling hot lava on my lungs, my stomach, my liver, and charring them instantly. This isn’t me he’s talking about. Mom loves me. Aunt Beth loves me. This is his dad talking through him. This is not about me. This is about him working his frustrations out on me. Nameless smiles wider.
“It’s weird—I’ve been hearing rumors about you. Isis Blake is turning into quite the party girl. She was a nobody, and all of a sudden she shows up at parties, blacking out drunk and starting fights.”
I try to breathe, to keep breathing and not let the memories overwhelm me. Nameless pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, and my heart rate skyrockets and all I hear is a high-pitched white noise. My hands start shaking, the scar on my wrist aching with a phantom burn. Nameless smirks, blowing the smoke in my face.
“What’s the matter? Did that stuck-up pretty boy refuse you? Is that why you’re throwing yourself down the bottle?”
I’m frozen, rooted to the steps as echoes of pain sear my skin all over again. The smell of cigarette smoke, the way it curls around my face and lingers in my hair—I want all of it to go away. To stop existing. I don’t want to be here. I want to stop existing, right now. I want to black out. If I hold my breath long enough, I’ll black out and everything will stop.
Nameless chuckles, my silence all the affirmation he needs.
“He’s a smart, talented, handsome guy. You tried to step above your status, and he put you back in your place. What a great guy. My opinion of him has done a total one eighty.”
He leans in, and the bile in my throat moves to my mouth.
“Or maybe…maybe it’s more than that. Maybe you told him what happened between us. And maybe he just doesn’t want to fuck you. Not after—”
“Isis? What’s going on out here?”
The horrid black spell cracks, and I can move again, think again. I turn, Kieran’s huge frame blacking out the door. Nameless smiles at him, turning on the charm full-blast.
“Oh nothin’. Just a little talk between old friends. Do you know where Tyler is?”
Kieran glares at him, then jerks his thumb. “Upstairs.”
Nameless gets up and pats him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
When he’s gone, Kieran sits on the steps with me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, the pain fading. “Old friend.”
“You didn’t look very friendly with him.”
“It’s…nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Kieran lets out a breath. “Well, look. Me and Ulfric and a few of the girls are going into town. There’s a club that’s got a rave night. You wanna come?”
Kieran might be big and on the wrestling team and flunking all his English classes, but he’s got cute green eyes, like a puppy, and he’s weirdly sensitive. He asked me to tutor him when he saw my test scores in English, and we’ve been hanging out ever since. He knows exactly what to say and do to help a person feel better, and he’s got a sixth sense–slash–invisible insect antennae for how people feel in general. He’s like Wren in that way. He can tell I don’t want to be here anymore now that Nameless is around. I nod.
“Yeah. Sure. Who’s driving?”
“Me.” Kieran smirks. “I’m the DD, but you may call me Sir Chauffeur. You get shotgun.”
“I wish I had a shotgun,” I grumble as I follow him to his PT Cruiser. Two girls in form-fitting dresses and a massive blond guy who looks slightly like a Viking king are waiting by it.
“Oh yeah?” Kieran laughs. “What would you do with one?”
“Go on a picnic. Start an indie band. Kill a certain someone.”
“We’re kil
ling people?” The girl in the red dress claps her hands. “Let’s start with Professor Summers. We’d be doing the world a favor.”
“He’s not even that bad.” Kieran rolls his eyes and starts the car, backing out.
“He looked up Tessa’s skirt with a mirrored pen yesterday, I totally saw it.” Red-dress girl nudges green-dress girl, who must be Tessa, because she meekly withdraws into the seat. Red-dress flashes a smile at me. “Hi, I’m Livy.”
“Isis,” I say, and look at Tessa. “Did you report him?”
Tessa shakes her head, not meeting my eyes. Livy scoffs.
“You know campus won’t do shit about it. They take reports and then file them away in a huge cabinet that no one ever touches. I’ve seen it. You might as well go scream at a brick wall.”
Tessa finally looks up, voice meek. “Even if I do, they never believe girls. They’ll ask me what I was wearing. It won’t be his fault. It’ll be mine.”
I ball my fists. Kieran sighs in a weary, resigned way.
“Das not fair.” Ulfric, with his rich accent, frowns. “In Denmark, my old university fire all creep.”
He punctuates the word “fire” with a savage karate chop to the air.
“Yeah, well, welcome to America.” Livy shrugs. “Land of the free to harass girls and home of the brave on the outside, cowardly on the inside.”
“Professor Summers, huh,” I whisper. Kieran flashes me a warning look.
“Don’t you dare.”
“What?” I play innocent.
“I know it was you who put the spaghetti in Sarah’s purse last week,” he adds.
“You did that?” Livy leans forward and laughs. “Holy shit, Tess, she’s the one who messed up Sarah’s purse!”
“Sarah?” Tessa looks confused.
“The girl who was cheating on her tests in our calc class! Isis was the one who put the noodles in her bag!”
I gasp. “How dare you accuse me! Slander, slander I say!”
“You smelled like sauce for four days after that,” Kieran offers, irrefutable evidence.
I smile. “When you put it that way, you make me sound so bold. Possibly even…saucy.”
There’s an awkward silence in the car. Ulfric groans.
“You like pranking people who you think deserve it,” Kieran says. “You Silly Stringed the whole inside of Tyler’s car when he tried to make out with you. And now you’re thinking of pranking Summers.”
“What kind of outlaw do you peg me for, Sir Chauffeur? Look at me! There’s no way I could ever think up something brilliant like rolling dung bombs under office doors or coating toupees with Crisco or putting spiders in desk drawers.”
There’s another silence.
“Or eye drops. Replaced with pepper spray.”
Livy makes a thoughtful, approving noise. Kieran sighs and pulls into the parking lot of a flashy club with a neon sign that reads Eternity, and we all pile out. Livy grabs Tessa’s arm and skips ahead. Ulfric looks at me like I’m a hungry tiger.
“You are very scary woman,” he says.
“Coming from you, Leif Can-Decapitate-You-with-My-Forearm-Son, that means a lot.” I pat his shoulder.
He looks appropriately offended. “I have never decapitate any people!”
“You should try it. It’s very relaxing.”
“When you’re done planning murder,” Kieran drawls, “let’s get some drinks.”
“How could we forget our Viking priorities?” I slap Ulfric on the back. “Booze first, blood second, boobs third.”
“Boobs first, booze second, blood never,” Ulfric corrects.
“Ahhh, don’t be such a stickler, Ulfie. The gods demand revelry! Onward to Valhalla!”
Like all people who’ve had the extreme luck to meet me in this lifetime, he looks bewildered, but he follows me anyway into the booming club. We flash the bouncer our IDs, and he looks at Tessa’s a little longer than he needs to, and then he squints at one of my (many) fake IDs, all of which I bought from Yvette.
“Vanessa Gergich?” he asks. “And you’re thirty-one?”
I start to sweat. This is the one downside of twelve fake IDs.
“I’m very healthy?” I offer. “I eat my vitamins. I moisturize. I moisturize constantly.”
“She’s with me,” Kieran cuts in. The bouncer glances between us, then sighs.
“All right, Kir, but if she fucks up I’m telling the cops it was you.”
Kieran flashes him a smile, then pulls me past the bouncer and toward the bar.
“One rum and Coke for the lady,” he yells over the music, then turns to me. “That’s what you like, right? I’ve seen you drink it a bunch.”
“Yessir.” I nod. “But you don’t have to buy me anything. I’m a strong, independent—”
He shoves the chilled glass in my hand and slides a five across the counter to the bartender. I swirl it a bit, checking for dense foam that would indicate a dissolved pill. I mean, I trust the bartender, and Kieran. Sort of. But you can never be too careful. I sip slowly, and we stand like that, watching the writhing masses in short skirts and polo shirts grind on each other. Tessa is dancing with Ulfric, still a little shy but smiling more now. Livy is dancing with some Italian-looking guy four years too old for her. The smell of sweat and cologne practically chokes the air. Strobe lights pierce our eyes and poke holes in our patience for overused EDM music.
“Is this just…” I pause and listen to the speakers. “Is this just someone saying ‘ass’ on repeat?”
Kieran stops, looks up, and starts laughing. “Holy shit, you’re right. What’s happened to music?”
“Money,” I say. “Money happened. But personally, I blame spandex and Auto-Tune.”
He laughs. Livy detaches her ass from Italian guy’s crotch long enough to walk over to us, breathless and smiling.
“Hey, you guys. Come over here.”
We follow, curious, as she leads us to the bathroom hallway, covered in graffiti and bits of toilet paper. Livy pulls something out from her bra. She presses one into Kieran’s hand, then mine. It’s a small white pill shaped like a playboy bunny.
Kieran quirks an eyebrow. “Where’d you get these?”
“Heather, duh.” Livy huffs. “She was practically handing them out like candy at the house.”
“Is this what I think it is?” I ask.
“Molly?” Livy asks.
“Illegal?” I stress.
“Chill.” Livy rolls her eyes. “It’s just one tab. It’s not gonna kill you. And Heather always buys from a reliable guy, so nothing weird’s in it.”
Kieran pushes it back at her. “I can’t. I’m DD tonight.”
“It’s in and out of your system really fast,” she insists. “Like, way less time than booze.”
“Seeing giant red elephant monsters isn’t my idea of a good time.” I glare at it, but Livy smiles and pats me on the shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not a hallucinogen. It’s really safe, I promise. I’ve done it a hundred times.”
I stare at the white pill. Nameless’s ugly words rear their head.
Did that stuck-up pretty boy refuse you? Is that why you’re throwing yourself down the bottle?
And maybe he just doesn’t want to fuck you.
No one else is going to want you.
No one else is going to want you.
I put the pill on my tongue and chug the last sip of my rum and Coke, drowning the words in their tracks. Kieran swallows his, too. I head to the dance floor and wait to die. Or have a good time. Whichever comes first. Kieran shadows behind me, dancing with me, and even if he’s a little stiff in the legs and too white-guyish in the sense that all he does is rock on his feet, I still catch myself smiling. Life’s been shitty, but dancing has always been good to me, for me. I can just drift and think about nothing and everything with the music keeping the darkness at bay.
I didn’t know Heather bought drugs. I didn’t know she supplied them to frat parties, either. On th
e ladder of bad things to do, that’s nearly drug-dealer-level status. Or is it? I don’t know shit about drugs, and even less about the people who deal them. I just know a lot of people take them, and more power to those people, but they’re dangerous. Then again, I’ve been drinking nearly every day since that night at the centaur fountain, so who am I to judge? Who am I to get angry? I’m drinking away the pain, and that hasn’t been working. So I have to try something else. No danger is as bad as the things waiting for me in my own memories.
The bright strobe lights get brighter, more colorful, greens turning into red-blue, two colors at once. I blink, but the colors keep fracturing. They flash off girls’ makeup and jewelry, spots of gemstone color burning pleasantly onto my eyelids. Everyone looks so happy, so nice, so kind. No one will hurt me here. I’m surrounded by good people. The darkness can’t get me here.
Kieran smiles when I smile at him, and that’s a good sign, and he’s much more handsome than I thought before—sort of swarthy, pirate swarthy, Jack Sparrow swarthy (we don’t speak that name), strong and big-shouldered and he could protect me from the darkness, couldn’t he? Someone as strong as him could fight off anything, protect me from anything. I tried to protect myself for all this time, but it was so hard. I’m so tired of doing it all alone. It would be nice to have some help. Kieran could help. Jack didn’t want to help anymore, which is okay, because I’m hard, and not really worth all that effort, even if he was the only one who touched me in the good way where my heart peeked out of its shell, but it was stupid, I was so stupid for thinking—
No one else is going to want you.
I wince and lurch for Kieran, hugging him around the waist. He stops dancing.
“Isis?” he shouts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m…I’m not okay.” I laugh. “I’m not. I’m just not.”
“Hey, whoa, okay. Let’s get you some air.”
I hang on to Kieran’s arm as he guides me through the crowd and out to the front of the club. I shoot a look at the bouncer as we pass.
“I’m not thirty-one,” I blurt.
“I know.” He rolls his eyes.
Kieran eases me onto the steps. I shiver when my eyes catch on the lit cigarette ends of a circle of smoking people. Kieran sees it and moves us away from the circle, farther down the curb. I gasp for air, choking on nothing and everything at the same time. Kieran waits patiently, staring at the star-studded sky. When the pressure is a little less and the world isn’t so bright, I form words.
