Any Second

by Kevin Emerson

  Maya’s head dropped. I’m ruining everyone’s night. What about my night? Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. No! Don’t give her the satisfaction.

  “Aww, look at you.” Janice had her by the arm again. Fingers gripping. “You know, things were going fine until you ran into these assholes.” Janice lunged past Maya. Graham and Eli were just walking by with their plates of tacos. She slapped Graham’s right out of his hand. His elbow hit Eli’s plate and it fell too, everything splattering onto the pavement.

  “What the hell?” Graham slammed into Maya, reaching—more like clawing—for Janice.

  “Whoa!” Mateo spun and shoved Graham.

  Maya staggered. Where was Eli? Then she saw him; he’d dropped to his knees and started scooping the taco mess back onto their plates.

  Kids all around them, circling, shouting, and laughing. Janice yanked Maya back into the crowd, and the movement unmoored her again.

  Mateo had Graham in a headlock. Graham kicked, hit Lucas in the thigh. Lucas spun, but Eli was closer, and defenseless. Lucas kicked him square in the ribs. Eli fell onto his side, clutching his stomach, fetal position.

  “Stop!” Maya shouted, or thought she did.

  More people coming. The gravity of violence. Phones out everywhere.

  “Ow, shit, get off me!”

  Somehow Graham had squirmed free and gotten a fistful of Mateo’s hair. “I’ll tear you to fucking pieces, mate!” Graham shouted in an accent, like Australian or something.

  Lucas whirled and slugged Graham in the stomach.

  Eli had struggled to his knees. Reached again for the taco mess, which had now been mashed by shoes.

  Maya tried to pull away from Janice, but she hung on. “Let me go!” She tore her arm free.

  Janice’s eyes went wide. “Fine!” She made a throwing motion. Throwing Maya away.

  Graham and Mateo went down on their backs. Lucas bent over them and started trying to drag Graham free.

  The crowd was growing exponentially. “Stop!” “Kick his ass!” “What’s going on!” “Oh yeah!”

  “How about this, Freaker?” Mateo was up now. Hair everywhere. Shirt torn at the shoulder. He kicked Graham. And again.

  “Kill him!” someone yelled.

  Maya staggered, heading for Eli, who was putting dirty meat back into torn shells, his fingers caked in dirt and sauce.

  A thick arm shot out in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

  “That’s enough!” A short, muscular man in a black denim jacket shoved past Maya and into the middle of the circle. He knelt beside Eli, rubbed his arm and said something quietly, then pulled him to his feet. Eli tried to grab one of the plates, but it spilled all over again. He let it go and clutched his stomach. Blood dripped from his nose onto his sweatshirt.

  The man had neat hair that led seamlessly into a neat beard. Nice jeans, black shoes. Maya felt like maybe she’d seen him around school. “You boys just back off now,” he said. As he’d helped Eli up, his jacket had shifted, revealing the straps of a shoulder holster, the butt of a gun. Whispers in the crowd. Some kids starting to run away out of instinct.

  The man pointed at Mateo and Lucas. “Stand over by the truck. I know what you look like, so don’t think about running off.”

  Mateo and Lucas moved away, heads hung. A streak of blood ran down Mateo’s neck to a stain on his shirt. “Kid went after our friend,” he said, pointing to Janice.

  “We’ll sort it out soon enough.”

  Graham was curled on his side, clutching his ribs. Maya could hear him wheezing, like his lungs were made of rusted metal.

  Eli. Maya gazed at him. Wanted him to see her. Needed him to…

  Eli wiped the blood from his nose and mouth. Looked up, dazed. Found her.

  Hey, she mouthed.

  Maybe a moment of recognition before he looked to the sky and pinched his nose.

  A squawk of radio: two uniformed police officers making their way through the crowd from the parking lot side. They conferred with the man, who seemed to be an officer too. One of the uniformed officers crouched by Graham. The other approached Mateo and Lucas, pulling out a notepad. The plainclothes officer said something quietly to Eli, then moved toward the other boys.

  Maya scanned the crowd. No sign of Tamara. Why would she care about some high school brawl? If only she knew. Students were peeling away, already bored. Maybe no one would notice if she talked to Eli—

  “Excuse me!” A young woman pushed through the crowd to him. Melissa. Her hair tied back, wearing a sweatshirt and workout pants. She made eye contact with the plainclothes officer, and he nodded at her. “Jesus, come on,” she said, taking Eli by the shoulders and guiding him across the parking lot. Eli went, head down. Didn’t look back.

  Voices swelled around Maya. The crowd disintegrating. Dots fleeing as she stood stuck in place. What now?

  Her phone buzzed.

  Where are you? Janice asked. Come find me on the courts?

  Maya shoved her phone into her pocket. She slipped out of the crowd and made her way through the shadows, around the side of the youth center, to the sidewalk along the main street. One foot in front of the other. Steps unsteady, still dizzy, more than that now: empty.

  Three…two…one…

  Cars streaked by, Serenitab adding flares to their taillights. Across the street, silent ball fields exhaling mist. Some lonely insect sounds.

  She reached the bus stop. Sat on the empty bench. The streetlights Ferris-wheeled, leaving green streaks behind her half-closed eyelids.

  Got her phone back out.

  She messaged Eli: Are you okay?

  No reply bubbles. Checked the bus times. Just a couple minutes.

  Where r u? Janice again. Are you here or what??

  Now a photo. A selfie of Janice, holding the camera above her, making a big-eyed miss-you face. Come back. Janice will make it all better.

  Maya started to cry.

  A few minutes later, the bus squealed to a stop. She clambered on and slumped into a seat, the doors flapping closed.

  Her phone buzzed.

  From Eli. Finally—

  This is Melissa. Stay away from him. You understand?

  No, dammit, no! Tears again. Fingers creeping to hair.

  But Maya fought it, fought to the surface.

  I’m so sorry, she typed. Please tell him I’m sorry. And that I hope he’s okay.

  Watched for a reply as the bus pulled into traffic. One block, two…

  Nothing.

  She wrote to Janice: Going home. Have fun with the boys.

  Slid her phone into airplane mode. Slid into herself, away from her stinging tears and her beckoning skin, down deep into the cool and numb, as deep as she could get.

  October 1

  When he closed his eyes and pushed: Gabriel’s silhouette looming in the doorway. He felt him in the burn of his muscles.

  Less than a month away now.

  Eli opened his eyes. Arms extended, the barbell above him.

  Two.

  He lowered it, inhaled, pushed again.

  The stairwell beyond the door to his room, the glimpse he sometimes got of a woman’s picture on the wall. The cold, hollow feeling every time he heard the footsteps.

  Three.

  Eyes open again. Pale strips of light on the gym ceiling. Eli’s back stuck to the vinyl bench. You are here, he told himself. A fixed point. In the gym, in the present, working on yourself. Around him, the clangs, grunts, zipping pulleys of others working out. Sometimes he felt like they were all on a team, getting stronger, one simple effort at a time.

  He pushed again—

  The screaming from upstairs. It was always somewhere in his head, always the same, the horrible pleading, the thumping of furniture.

  It
wasn’t your sister. Wasn’t ever.

  He knew that. But it couldn’t undo the not knowing back then.

  Four.

  Aching in his pecs, feeling like they might tear apart, but also satisfying, because to strain the very fibers of your muscles was to know that you were workable. Fixable. You were clay and wood and Lego blocks and glue. You didn’t just have to be what you were. You could change yourself. Make yourself better.

  I made you better.

  Shut up.

  Pushing the weight…

  Nobody will ever love you like I did. You turned away from the Purpose, let that girl soil you. But you can be light again.

  Biceps burning. Arms straight. Exhale.

  Five.

  He held the bar above him.

  I saved me. By not blowing up.

  You would have. All you are is a faulty wire. Your entire life a loose connection.

  I’m stronger now.

  Was he, though? Should’ve fought back in the parking lot at the dance. Not hunched on the ground like some pathetic victim.

  Resistance gets the garden hose.

  No.

  Graham had been getting pounded, and what had he done? Started picking up the tacos. Waste is against the Purpose. That’s what he’d been thinking. Who would think that while their friend needed help?

  A broken boy.

  Right in front of Maya too. And now he wasn’t even allowed to text her, or Melissa would tell their mom.

  Seeing her in the hallway today had made his chest ache. At one point their paths had crossed—she’d ducked and looked away.

  He lowered the bar. Pushed up.

  Six.

  His shoulder started to ache. He’d upped his weight last week, but this was older pain. When Gabriel had thrown him across the room and he’d hit the wall wrong, felt something pop. Pain that erased him. Next thing he knew he’d been lying on the floor. Gabriel had shoved his arm and he’d screamed and couldn’t move his shoulder for three days. Then it got better. What would Gabriel have done if he’d needed to go to the hospital? Sometimes he’d thought about finding out. Break his own wrist with the bed frame, rip his arm open on the edge of the plywood. He’d never had the guts to try.

  But I can tear these muscle fibers apart and build them new. I can, I can….

  Seven.

  Eight. Faster now. More burn. More shoulder pain but come on yes faster.

  Lying on the floor while his shoulder wailed, listening to the sounds through the floor. The suck and squeal of the refrigerator. Hum of the microwave. Its cheery ding. The murmur of voices from a television.

  Nine.

  Not long after the shoulder, Gabriel had brought the first cat.

  Oh no. The cat. He tried to avoid thinking about the cat.

  It’s just a stray, like you. And you need to feel strong again. Now, I’m going to hold its head down with this leather strap in its mouth, and I want you to put your hands right here, Jacob.

  Ten…

  I know it’s squirming. Claws are nothing compared to the Purpose. Now push until you hear a crunch. Until you feel the power of taking a life. Exerting your will to the ultimate degree. Harder.

  Ten…

  I told you to push.

  Ten…

  Jacob, if you don’t push, you know what I’ll have to do—

  “Hey.”

  Eli’s eyes popped open. The bar was two-thirds up, his arms trembling. About to fall—

  “Let me get that, pardner.” Graham leaned over and grabbed the center of the bar. He lifted and Eli pushed, extending his arms with an explosive grunt.

  “You had it,” said Graham. He smiled, but only half of his face responded. His left eye was still mostly hidden beneath the puffy swelling. A deep, shiny purpleness that spread nearly to his chin, where a butterfly bandage covered a laceration.

  “Thanks,” said Eli. He blinked. The cat was still there. It always took a while to forget it, the soft feel of its fur, the crunch of its windpipe.

  He sat up. “What are you doing here?”

  Graham brushed his hair out of his eyes, careful of the bruise. “I had a cool idea. Something to make us feel a little better.” He reached around and patted his black backpack. “Are you almost done?”

  Eli checked the list of exercises on his phone that Lamar, his strength coach, had given him. He still had legs to do, but he couldn’t even blink now without seeing those bright, desperate cat eyes. “I could be. Mom is picking me up in forty-five minutes.”

  “That’s enough time,” said Graham with a smile.

  “How’s your head?” Eli asked.

  Graham’s face fell. “No headaches today. Ribs still hurt, though. Doctor said they’ll take a few weeks.”

  The police had ended up letting everyone go. Officer Dawes seemed to have orchestrated that. Pearson had called and filled in Eli’s mom the next morning. Mom had been furious, shouting about pressing charges, but Pearson said the attention would be a problem. Mom wondered too if this Graham person was a good influence, whether Eli should be hanging out with him—but then she’d filled her wine again, and that topic, along with most other things, had been lost for the weekend.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be home resting or something?” said Eli.

  “It’s fine,” said Graham. “My parents are going to a thing after work. Besides, the pain is a good reminder.”

  Of what?

  But Graham was standing. “Let’s get going.”

  “Where?”

  “Outside.” He patted his bag again. “Come on, it will be worth it.”

  “Lamar will want to know where I am. He’s supposed to keep track of me.”

  “That bike trail is full of people. Just say we’re going jogging.”

  “Okay.”

  Eli found Lamar across the room, holding a clipboard and standing beside a woman on a treadmill. They were chatting away. He seemed distracted when Eli asked, but he did look over Eli’s shoulder at Graham, who was standing in the doorway. Graham delivered an innocent smile and waved.

  “Yeah, that’s probably fine. Just don’t be long,” said Lamar. “What happened to your buddy?”

  “He fell off his bike,” said Eli, the lie coming quickly, even easily.

  Well, look at you.

  “This place is pretty cool,” said Graham as they left the weight room. “It feels like you’re in black ops, training for the next mission.”

  “You should join,” said Eli.

  Graham sighed. “I don’t think there’s going to be time for that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh.” Graham had been sort of grinning, but it disappeared. “Just too much going on right now— Wait, I forgot.” He stopped in a lounge area, sat on a couch, and tapped his phone. “Have you seen any of these yet?”

  Eli sat beside him. The video was titled “Blindness,” posted by Alpha_Ascendant. “No,” said Eli. But maybe he’d heard kids talking about him now and then.

  “Nobody knows who he is,” said Graham, “but the rumor is that he goes to our school.”

  Graham handed Eli an earbud. The video began to play. It showed a blurry figure, mostly silhouette, the details of his face obscured by bright light and streaks, almost like they were watching through a dirty window.

  “Greetings, losers, sinners, the meek and mundane,” the figure said. “That’s right, he’s back, your judge, jury, and executioner, the one who sees you in all your wretched misery, who listens to your incessant whining and knows what you all really yearn for…the peace and wisdom of death.”

  “Intense, right?” said Graham.

  Wow. Eli felt himself tensing up.

  The Alpha chuckled. His voice was distorted by some kind of effect that made it low and menacing, with a ro
ugh, metallic edge. “Well, don’t worry, sluts and gigolos, the Alpha hears your moans of despair and wants you to know that the time of judgment is getting closer. Do you feel it coming? You’ve all been asking when it will arrive, filling my comments with your”—there was a pause, like maybe he was reading from something—“desperate pleas. The Alpha hears your whining, sees the way you’re all controlled, hooked up to the machines of sex and commerce and you don’t even know it.” He laughed harder. “No idea, really, it’s sad.”

  “How long is this?” Eli asked.

  “Just a couple minutes.”

  His head started to pound. Dr. Maria would tell him to remove himself from harmful stimuli. But was this harmful? It’s just a video. “Shouldn’t we get going?” he said.

  “You gotta see this part.”

  “You know something’s wrong, but you can’t see it,” the Alpha continued. “You lash out, so cruel and sadistic, hurting those who dare to question the privilege and status you think you own, but that’s the great deception. None of this is really yours. You’re just being used, prostituted, fucked again and again, tricked into liking it. Your cruelty is actually a subconscious wish, you are begging me to free you and I will, believe me, I will.”

  Eli blinked, and the Alpha’s silhouette became Gabriel’s. Maybe if he said he forgot something back in the weight room…

  Graham was watching the video intently, holding his phone in both hands.

  “How would you like to die?” the Alpha was asking. “A bullet? A bomb? My hands around your throat?”

  “We really don’t have long before my mom gets here,” said Eli.

  “Oh, right.” Graham tapped pause and checked the time. “I just figured you might not have seen that. His videos have been really popular. Everybody’s freaked out that he’s, like, the next Columbine kid or something. But I mean, a lot of what he’s saying is kinda true, you know?”

  Maybe. “He sounds dangerous.”

  “Yeah, but…sometimes I wonder if maybe that’s what we need. Someone to make the privileged and the bullies feel a little scared. Someone to shake things up.”

  Eli felt like his head was full of static. “Do the police know about him?”

  “Probably. He’s getting so much attention. I bet somebody’s told the cops by now.”