Any Second

by Kevin Emerson

  October 3

  She stopped when she saw the splatter of blood on the milky-white snare drum head. The safe cocoon of sound died away around her. She’d asked to stay after rehearsal and play for a bit. Ms. Reid would be coming back from the office soon to lock up, but for a half hour it had just been Maya and the drums.

  She’d been playing a tom-tom beat using paradiddles, fluid and alternating. Inspired by a show at the Vera Project on Saturday night. Dad took her, so lame to be there with your dad and yet also pretty cool of him. When was the last time they’d done anything like that?

  Both her parents could tell she was down after the dance, and not just the hangover, which Mom went light on her about. They didn’t know she’d found Eli in the first place, never mind lost him again, but they did both notice how her phone kept buzzing. How she kept not looking at it. She knew who the messages were from.

  Janice had started out apologetic:

  Sorry we drank too much.

  Didn’t like seeing those boys messing with you.

  Lucas and Mateo were kind of boring. Maybe just bc you weren’t there.

  To annoyed:

  So this is how it’s going to be?

  Are you with your tech friends?

  You like that better than me?

  They’ve helped you through the hardest time of your life?

  To pissed:

  What the fuck?

  To frigid:

  Whatever. I get it.

  So when Dad had picked her up for dinner on Saturday and asked her what she felt like doing, she’d told him to just drop her off at the Vera Project. He and Kendall could go to dinner or whatever. But he’d surprised her: Can I come? And Kendall had been like, I’ll meet my friend. And then there they were, first watching a band called Powder Lips and then the Rusty Soles. Their excellent girl drummer had done this tom-tom beat that Maya had memorized. Dad tapping his foot, nodding. Maya now and then getting lost in the music.

  Here in the band room, she’d turned off two of the three banks of lights and worked on that beat in the shadows. Sound and sweat, the Slinky-like compressing from polyrhythms to unisons, roar to growl, ferocious cymbal crashes. Eyes closed, humming melodies to herself that resonated through her skull and inside her earplugs.

  She had an extra energy driving her today. Something in her back pocket. First, though, this bloody business on her knuckle.

  She sucked the drop and dug into her bag for a tissue and a Band-Aid (four total today). She folded up the tissue, licked it, and wiped at the drum head. The blood mostly came off its rough surface, enough that you might mistake it for a coffee or soda spill.

  She put on the Band-Aid and had just picked up her sticks again when she heard her phone buzz.

  She gave her bag the side-eye, but instead reached into her back pocket. Her fingers tingled as she unfolded the blue paper. A piece of half-sized stationery with red lines. The edges were decorated with the characters from Sentinels of the Neoverse, the summer’s hit movie.

  She’d found the note inside her locker yesterday. Slipped through the vents. The page had a torn edge, like it had been ripped from a journal, the lines filled with careful, rounded handwriting. Maya read it again, running her finger down the page:

  Dear Maya,

  Hi. How are you? Dr. Maria said that since I can’t see you, I could try writing you a letter to keep in touch (I’m at her office now). She wants me to write more of my feelings down and I usually don’t like to but this sounded okay. How was your weekend? I’m really sorry about Friday. I know those kids are your friends. We should have stayed away. Or I don’t know Well, I hope you felt better, later. I’m okay. I have some bruises on my side. Graham got hurt pretty bad but he’s fine. Sometimes it feels like things will never get better but then I’m supposed to remember that good things happen. Like meeting you. Okay let me know how you’re doing. Your friend, Eli

  Okay I’ll write more (Dr. Maria told me to). There’s something I wanted to tell you on Friday but I didn’t have a chance. Do you remember when When we were in the mall, when the bomb squad was working on us, I started to feel like I couldn’t hold on to the trigger anymore, and then you said, “I got you.” Do you remember that? You probably didn’t think that was a big deal but I think about it all the time. So I’m glad I get to see you around, and we got to talk that time, and just so you know, I’m still sorry for last year and for everything you’ve had to go through since then. I’m so ashamed. How are you? Eli

  P.S. Very cool that you play the drums. I’ve always wanted to learn.

  Maya wiped her eyes.

  I got you.

  She didn’t remember saying that at all. How could she have forgotten? All those hours surrounded by the bomb squad…

  She was so glad to hear from him. That he was doing okay.

  “It’s not unusual to feel a connection to someone you’ve shared a traumatic experience with,” Renee had said at their session yesterday. “You both share it in a way that no one else does. That can be a supportive relationship.”

  But then why was it making her sad? Except she wasn’t sad, exactly. It was more a feeling about the way things were so fragile. This thin paper, these little scratches of ink that made words, those brief moments at Bauhaus and at the dance when she’d hung out with Eli, already days ago, and who knew what came next? For a minute their little dots had been together making a picture, but now they were drifting apart and it sucked. And yet a smile still crept to her face as she ran her fingers over the letter and then carefully folded it up. She’d write back to him tonight. Couldn’t wait.

  Her phone buzzed again. Okay, fine. She returned the letter to her pocket and got her phone from her bag. There was the small chance that it was her mom. Maya had texted that she was staying late, and maybe they could meet somewhere for dinner on her way home?

  She had two alerts. An email from school titled ONLINE VIDEOS—URGENT, and a message from Janice:

  Are u still here?

  Maya swiped the text away, opened the email:

  Dear Elliott students, parents, and staff:

  A series of YouTube posts have been brought to our attention by both parents and students that contain threats of mass violence and specific mention of Elliott High School. The videos are credited to the user name Alpha_Ascendant. First, I would like to assure all of you that we are in close contact with law enforcement about these videos, and we are taking a number of additional measures to assure that our school environment is safe and secure. While we caution that these videos may be upsetting to view, we encourage all parents to watch them and, unless you feel they contain potential triggers, to also watch them with your child to see if there is anything that might point to the identity of the perpetrator.

  To our students, if you know the individual behind these videos, this is not a time for withholding information. These videos represent someone in our community who needs help, not protection, and we strongly urge you to get in touch with the school. We have set up a hotline for your concerns and/or any tips you might have, listed below. And as always our guidance counselors are available to speak with students or families. We appreciate your help and welcome your questions.

  —David Neyer, Principal

  Maya closed the email, a chill running through her. So far, she’d avoided actually watching any of those Alpha videos. Like things weren’t crazy enough right now.

  Another message arrived from Janice:

  I so need your help. On the stage.

  Janice must have had one-acts rehearsal. Probably heard the drumming. Maya’s heart spiked. They’d sat apart in bio lecture all week so far. Ate lunch at different tables.

  “You’re allowed to feel like the relationship isn’t healthy,” Renee had said. “Based on what you’re telling me, I’m inclined to agree. And it’s good to see you r
ecognizing that, and taking steps to protect yourself.”

  A wave of adrenaline…There was probably no more avoiding it.

  Maya put her sticks away and packed up the drums. Out in the back hall, a few students were still milling around the costume and prop closets. Maya headed through the backstage doors, walked between the curtains in the wings. Most of the lights were off, the main curtain open. Her footfalls creaked on the worn boards.

  Janice was sitting on the front of the stage in a spotlight, dressed in a gray wool skirt and jacket, a pink shirt underneath, her hair up in a bun, speckled gray to make her look older. She gazed at the floor and sniffled, the sound echoing in the empty auditorium.

  It’s like a scene in a play. Maya paused at the edge of the cone of light, still in the shadow. I should leave—but she walked out. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I got your messages. What’s up?”

  “Rehearsal was a disaster. Ms. Mays was so harsh.” She shook her head. “I’m not good enough.”

  Maya crossed her arms. “Of course you are, you’re Janice. You’re great at this.”

  She shook her head. “The show’s in a week. The recording will be part of my applications, but whatever. So stupid to think I could go to Juilliard or whatever.”

  “No, it’s—”

  “And on top of that, my girlfriend’s been icing me out. I’ve got nothing. I might as well disappear.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? What’s the fucking point? If I’m gone, everyone will be better off and no one will miss me.”

  “Janice, that’s not true.” Janice only shrugged. “I—I think you need to talk to someone,” Maya said. “I know my therapist would see you, or there’s a hotline—”

  “Jesus, Maya, I don’t want to talk to them! I want you!”

  I should go to her, she thought. She needs me. Just to give her a supportive hug. There couldn’t be anything wrong with that. A good friend would be there, no matter what problems they had— No, DON’T! Whatever you do!

  “Did you hear me?” said Janice.

  I got you, she’d said to Eli.

  Maya stayed where she was, heart hammering. She crossed her arms. “I’m sorry. But it can’t be me.”

  Janice looked up at her, incredulous.

  Say it, before you can’t! “I’m sorry you’re hurting, and I wish I could help, but I need some time.” The words left her like fireworks, lighting up her sky. She felt light-headed, upended.

  Janice laughed to herself. “Really.”

  Keep going! “Things haven’t been great between us, and I need some space to sort it out.”

  “And you’re saying that’s my fault?” Janice rolled her eyes. “Maybe things haven’t been great because of you. Did you ever think of that? Lately, you’ve either been totally avoiding me, or ruining my night at the dance, or my surprise costume party.”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you. I—”

  “What, Maya?” Janice stood up. “You need more space to be sad? To make life suck for everyone around you? To make me beg for your affection, shower you with compliments, all so you could do this?”

  “I don’t—”

  Janice stepped toward her. The spotlight cast ominous shadows down over her face.

  She knows it’s doing that. Even if she doesn’t. It’s a stage effect and this is a Janice production and I’m the villain, or maybe just a prop.

  “You know what?” she said. “It doesn’t matter how much I try to help you, or care about you. It’s like you want to be suffering like this, but only if the rest of us are suffering with you. You don’t really care how we feel.”

  “I—” Words got jumbled. “I do care, I just—”

  A step closer. “It’s always Don’t touch me right now, and Maybe later, and I’m not really feeling up for it, like you’re the only one who matters.”

  If Janice got much closer she’d reach out and they’d touch—

  Say it.

  Her hands would be on Maya’s arms again. The fingertips that left reminders—

  SAY IT—

  “I don’t think you’re good for me.”

  Janice stopped cold. “What?”

  Tears fell. Maya breathed deep. “I think we should break up.”

  Janice laughed. “Oh my God, you bitch. You are so incredibly selfish! After I’ve totally been there for you, like, nonstop!” Icicle eyes stabbing into her. “Do you know how hard it’s been to deal with you? When you just keep taking more and more?”

  “I’m not the one who does that.” Maya shaking. Keep going! “It’s you. Everything always has to be how Janice wants it. It—”

  “It’s what?” Janice closer. Looming. Maya saw her hands twitch.

  This is it. She’ll hit me now. Finally. Stomach clenched. “It makes me worse,” said Maya.

  Janice wobbled on her feet and stopped. Looked at the ceiling. Sighed. “You know what? Forget it. You’re honestly not worth it. Go try and get fucked by those tech nerds.” Janice pointed and twirled her finger. “No one else is going to want this.” She strode past Maya—

  Bracing—

  Didn’t touch her, just a whoosh of costume.

  Maya turned. “Hey.”

  Janice paused in the shadows of the wings.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  Janice wiped her eyes. Maya couldn’t tell if there were really tears or not. “What do you care?”

  “Just…you’ve said some things about hurting yourself, and I think—”

  Janice cut her in half with a saber-like laugh. “Please. I’m fine. Unlike you.” She smiled, glacial. “Delete my number.”

  Strode out.

  And scene.

  Tears…but then a little smile of her own. Maya’s hand drifted to her pocket. To the letter there.

  I got you.

  She stood in the spotlight, watching the particles of dust float around her like they were swimming in a sea. A constricting squeeze—Janice might be right. No one might ever want her.

  She nodded.

  “I do.”

  She stepped into the dark—

  But before her eyes could even adjust, light flashed around her. Maya paused. She was standing in another spotlight. The one she’d just been in had turned off.

  She peered out into the seats, but there didn’t seem to be anyone at the control boards.

  She shook her head and walked—

  The spotlight she’d been in clicked off. A new one burst around her, this time a red light.

  Maya halted again, her heart tripping on itself. She squinted up toward the ceiling. Eli? But she’d seen him heading to his bench when she was on her way to practice.

  “Graham?” Her voice echoed in the empty auditorium.

  Silence. The red spotlight gazed at her. So quiet she could hear its slight humming.

  “Okay, whatever,” she said aloud, and started walking again.

  Red light off. Dark…Just as she reached the wings, another white light illuminated her.

  She sped up, safely into the shadows. Kept walking fast, back to the band room, through and outside into a damp, bracing wind. As she hurried up the sidewalk, she glanced behind her, but of course there was no one there.

  What the hell had that been? Had Graham been watching them again? That kid…What did Eli see in him? He did know Eli’s secret. Had gotten him on Tech Squad. And unlike Maya, he was a friend Eli could actually be seen with in the world. Still, though…

  Her phone buzzed, making her nerves ring—This will be Janice, the start of the retaliation—and so she waited until she was at the bus stop before checking.

  But it was just Mom, running late at work, probably couldn’t meet up for dinner: Can you just go home and make somethin
g? Hopefully I’ll be there by ten.

  Great. Frozen mozzarella sticks and ranch dressing it was.

  Maya slumped back on the bus stop bench, and all at once it hit her: more alone than ever. No relationship, no fucking parents, no friends—

  Maybe one. She wished she could text him right now. Maya fished Eli’s letter from her pocket, got out her notebook, and started writing him back.

  October 5

  “Have things been okay at school since the fight?” Detective Pearson asked as they drove to Graham’s house.

  “Fine,” said Eli. “Nothing else happened.” He tapped his pencil against a notebook, his binder half-open in his lap.

  “How’s the math homework going?”

  “I’m almost done.”

  He hadn’t even started. Pressed against the inside of the notebook was the letter he’d found in his locker today.

  Dear Eli,

  Sorry it took me a couple days to write back. I’ve had tests in like every class. Also I broke up with Janice, although I think she’s telling everyone she dumped me. Don’t worry, I’m fine about it. Better, actually! I think your letter helped me do it. So thanks!

  Right now I’m sitting on the floor in my little room, on my pink rug that’s way too girly. It’s raining but I noticed when I got home that the breeze smelled like the ocean, so I opened my window, and I swear outside I can hear the bells of the old lighthouses and the creaks of the sailing ships from two hundred years ago. Oars thudding. Spooky whale calls. Sorry, maybe that sounds weird. But do you ever think you can feel the history of a place? I read that smells are really strongly associated with memories and emotions, which can be bad and good. Maybe it means I was a ship’s captain in a past life!

  So what are you doing this weekend? My mom and I are going up to see my grandma in Bellingham. (It’s actually my dad’s mom, but he and Grandma don’t really talk, so my mom still takes me. News flash: divorce sucks!) Have you ever been up there? There’s not much to do, but you can walk on the beach beneath these tall bluffs, which are pretty beautiful. Also my favorite coffee shop in the world is there. They make these oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips that are the best-tasting healthy thing ever. Wow, can’t believe I’m writing about cookies. Yawn! :)