by E. E. Cooper
“One of the reasons that we wanted to get everyone together is also to clear the air. I know that Britney and Kalah have been friends. This is a wonderful opportunity for Kalah to apologize.” Ms. Harding smiled. “I often find that a sincere sorry is one of the most valuable steps toward healing.”
I took a deep breath. My fingernails were digging into the palms of my hands as I tried to keep my hands still. My parents had warned me I’d be expected to apologize. There hadn’t been any discussion about what if I didn’t want to. Or the truth that I hadn’t done a damn thing to her. This was a command performance.
I closed my eyes for a second and pictured Beth. How her front tooth was a bit crooked and how she smiled when she was planning to cause some trouble in the best way possible. I imagined I was talking to her instead of Brit. “I want to say how really sorry I am. I let you down, but more than that, I let myself down.” When I opened my eyes Brit was staring directly at me.
“Thank you, Kalah,” Ms. Harding said. “I imagine you already feel better with that off your chest.”
“Loads,” I said flatly. My mom squeezed my knee.
“Any kind of physical violence or fighting is normally an automatic suspension. However, Britney has requested that not happen, both because it is so close to the end of the year and given the extraordinary . . . um, circumstances.” Hamstead fiddled with his tie. Extraordinary circumstances—that was an interesting spin on the situation.
“Kalah, I want you to know I’m not mad at you at all,” Brit said. Her dad patted her back.
“Thanks,” I managed to push out.
“I know you’re not in a good place,” Britney added. I nodded. She was at least right about that. I was in a shitty place. And she’d put me there.
“I just hope that you get the help you need and that you can come back next year and start fresh. I really hope someday we can reach out to each other and if not be friends, still be friendly.” The sun was streaming in the window turning Brit’s light blond hair into a golden halo around her face.
Everyone smiled at Brit, like she was some kind of saint or martyr who had come down from on high to share her benevolence. She was a regular Gandhi, turning the other cheek.
“That is remarkably mature of you, Britney,” Ms. Harding said.
Brit’s parents sat up straight as if they were about to receive an award for raising such a fine upstanding citizen. None of them seemed to realize that Brit was turning the knife by bringing up next year. She was making sure I knew that there would be no way that I would escape this stain. Everyone at school was certain I was some kind of psycho. At best they thought I was some kind of stalker who had an obsession with Brit. At worst they thought I was somehow involved in what had happened to Beth. Everyone would know I’d spent the summer in a psych program.
Brit was trying to look brave and noble, but I could see just a tiny hint of satisfaction on her face. She was enjoying this. She turned to the window and tilted her chin up slightly.
“I think this has been a positive meeting,” Ms. Harding said. Everyone mumbled agreement and started to collect their things.
Mr. Hamstead shook Brit’s parents’ hands. “I’ll look forward to seeing you both at graduation.”
“We wanted to ask you about getting some seats reserved near the front,” Dr. Ryerson said. “Britney’s grandparents are coming, and her grandfather doesn’t have very good mobility.”
“He was in the military,” Dr. Matson said. “Physician in the medical corps.” I managed to avoid rolling my eyes. Brit’s dad always made it sound like his father was some World War II vet who had been wounded while single-handedly taking out Hitler and saving the lives of other less brave soldiers. Brit told me he’d never even been in any kind of combat. He’d been stationed in Hawaii long after the war and spent most of his time treating VD and sunburns. The reason he couldn’t walk well now was arthritis.
“We don’t have any reserved seating,” Mr. Hamstead said. “We’ve always done a first come, first served with the seating for graduation.”
Brit’s parents stood there silently. They didn’t have to say anything.
“I’m sure we could make an exception, given this particular situation.”
Her parents smiled. It must be nice to live in a world where things always worked out in your favor. I was surprised the leaves from the trees in their yard didn’t fall in tidy piles. Or maybe just blow over onto the neighbor’s lawn.
My dad stood, but Brit’s parents made it clear they weren’t going to shake his hand. Maybe they thought our entire family was contaminated.
“We wish you the best,” Dr. Ryerson said, her nose slightly in the air. Then their whole family swept out.
My parents thanked Ms. Harding and Mr. Hamstead for their time. They muttered platitudes about how much they appreciated the sensitive way things had been handled. I stood by the door with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Kalah, I hope you make the best of this fresh start,” Mr. Hamstead said.
I nodded. He didn’t want to hear that there was no such thing as a fresh start. What had happened would be with me forever. Brit was pretending to be bruised from our encounter, but I was the one who was scarred.
Brit was waiting for me by my locker after the meeting. I stopped short when I saw her leaning there putting on another coat of lip gloss. Her lips were so shiny that they looked wet. She pushed off and took a few steps toward me.
“Aren’t you afraid?” I asked. “What if I attack you again?”
She pursed her lips into a big fake pout. “Don’t be like that. You know I had to do that.”
“Lie?”
She shook her head, the same expression my mom would make when I’d done something that disappointed her. “It doesn’t have to be like this, but it’s up to you. You’re the one who keeps turning on me.”
My head felt ready to explode. “Me?”
Her voice turned sharp. “Yes, you. Making those accusations. Snooping in my room. Sneaking off to East Lansing. Plotting. Saying those nasty things. I know you’re not well. You had to know no one would believe you. Not Zach. Not your parents.”
“I’m not well,” I said. A wave of exhaustion threatened to take me under. I stepped past her and went to my locker. “Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
“And you shouldn’t have hit me,” Brit added.
I looked at the small bandage above her lip. I could see a small dark shadow of blood coming through. Did she really expect me to apologize for that? It was possible that she’d convinced herself it really did go down that way. I turned back and threw some books in my bag.
Brit touched my elbow. “I said, you shouldn’t have hit me.” Her eyes were ice-cold. When I didn’t say anything she sighed. “We can get past this. I’m not someone who holds a grudge. We’re best friends, and that’s not something I take lightly. I didn’t think it was something you took lightly either.”
“What do you want from me?”
“After I heard what happened at your last school, I felt bad for you, but I also thought it meant you would get this situation more than other people. That what happened with this Madison bitch might have taught you a lesson. That friendship is supposed to be forever. It’s supposed to be about loyalty, about having that person’s back. I am your friend, but you’re making it hard.”
Brit stopped and took a deep breath as if collecting herself. “Together there’s nothing we can’t do. Mark my words: I’m going to do great things. I’m going to be somebody, but I need to know I can count on you. I need to know my best friend is with me. I want you by my side, but only if I know I can trust you,” she said. “But to do that, we have to move forward together. What happened to Beth was horrible.” She shifted her eyes away from me. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“But it happened. Beth’s gone. She’s dead. Nothing you or I do is going to bring her back
. No story you tell is going to change that.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because you seem to think that telling stories is going to make a difference. But the only thing it does is hurt you. People think you’re unstable.” Brit smiled. “Heck, you have been a little unstable.” She rubbed my upper arm. “But what I’m saying is that doesn’t have to be a problem. My parents don’t want me to have anything to do with you, but I’m not like that. I’m not someone who abandons a best friend just because she’s down. Now I need to know that you are the kind of person who understands the importance of loyalty.” Her voice was calm, but her eyelid was twitching.
Even if I had thought to tape the conversation, there wasn’t anything she’d said that couldn’t be explained away. I heard her loud and clear. If I crossed her, if I betrayed her, she would destroy me. If I walked away from getting justice for Beth, then we could go back to the way it was before. She’d be my best friend. She’d protect me from the worst of the rumors. She’s stand up for me, make sure that I didn’t get eaten alive by my past. She needed me at her side to help reinforce her own distorted image—that she wasn’t a really bad person. That she’d only done what she had to. She’d built up so many lies that she needed me to help support them.
“I worry about you, Kah-bear,” Brit said. “With the way things are going, people think it wouldn’t be unexpected if you killed yourself. And I wouldn’t want that.” Her lips pressed together in a thin tight line.
Her words surrounded my heart like a thousand frozen vines, tightening, making it impossible for me to take a breath. I was afraid to look away from her gaze.
She leaned closer and closer. I kept waiting for her to strike, but instead she leaned even closer, pausing for a beat, and then pressed her mouth down on mine. It wasn’t remotely sexual; it was as if she was marking me. Letting me know that she could and that there was nothing I could do. Her lips were sticky from the gloss, and when she stopped I could still feel their oil slick on my mouth.
Brit stepped back. “Think about it.”
Then, as if nothing had happened, she swung her bag over she shoulder and headed down the hall. “Have a good weekend. Don’t study too hard,” she called over her shoulder.
I broke into a cold sweat after she was gone. My legs felt weak, and I slid down the wall to the floor. Years ago I’d been in a car accident with my parents and Nadir. We’d been headed to my grandparents’ for Christmas. A truck in the opposite lane had lost control and slid into ours. My dad slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel. We missed the truck, but we hit a patch of ice and our car spun, like a top, in dizzying circles.
Nadir’s phone flew out of his hand. My mom screamed. Her arms up in front of her face, waiting for the windshield to explode. It seemed to be happening so fast and so slow all at the same time. I was oddly calm, as if I were watching it happen to someone else. Out the window I heard horns and saw the flash of headlights as we spun. There was a loud crash and crunch as other cars careened into each other. We hit the ditch at the side of the road and for a sickening second the car tilted on its side—we were going to flip, but the force was just shy of what was needed and the car thumped back down on all four tires.
The four of us had sat there silently for a second, before my dad called out to make sure everyone was okay then squeezed my mom’s hand before he unclicked his seat belt to get out and make sure no one in the other cars was hurt.
We were fine. The risk was over, but it was only after the car was stopped that I got scared. I realized only then how much danger I had been in. That it had been possible, likely even, that we could have been badly injured, or killed. In that second everything in our lives could have turned out completely different. I hadn’t felt that kind of fear again until this moment.
Once again everything in my life was spinning out of control, and this time I didn’t think I’d avoid the crash.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I was supposed to be spending the weekend studying for finals. My parents pretty much left me alone. I sensed Dr. Sherman had advised them to give me some space, to let me focus on my upcoming exams. My parents didn’t mention the residential program, but I’d seen the brochure on the kitchen counter. In the morning it was gone, tucked away somewhere. I could practically hear the clock ticking down, getting me closer to when they would ship me off. I’d find myself compulsively rubbing Beth’s pocket watch pendant as if I could slow time down through sheer will.
I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if I went to the program. Would they pump me with more medication when I didn’t give up my “delusion” about Britney? Or would I learn to lie? Tell people what they wanted to hear: that poor, kind Britney had never done a thing and that it was all in my head. Pretend to be riveted by what my fellow inmates said during group counseling. Make dream catchers out of Popsicle sticks and yarn, or some other kind of dorky craft that was supposed to relax me? Maybe take up knitting? Nah, they probably didn’t let crazy people have sharp, pointed sticks.
I stared down at my chemistry textbook, trying to learn formulas, but the only thing spinning through my head was Brit and what would happen next. I’d been focused on how I was going to prove what she’d done, get justice, but it was more than that now. Britney wasn’t going to let me go. It wasn’t enough for me to just drop it—she wanted us to be friends. She wanted me to be Robin to her Batman. And if I didn’t want to stick with her, it was going to be a problem. A big problem.
I got up, antsy. I couldn’t sit at my desk anymore. I went out and grabbed my bike out of the garage and sped down to Lighthouse Park before my parents could ask where I was going. Once I was there I took off my shoes. The sand was searing hot on top, but as my feet slid deeper the temperature dropped. I had the place to myself.
I went to the edge of the Point. I could hear the waves crashing into the rocks and beach below. As the waves went back out they let out a hissing sound. I gave one more look around to make sure I was alone and then screamed into the wind.
I started with yelling out obscenities. I called Brit every foul name I could think of, and when I ran out of names I knew, I made up new ones. In the end I wasn’t even yelling words, just howling into the void.
I only stopped when I ran out of energy and my throat was raw. I walked back down the trail to the beach and plopped down on a log. Other people must have built a fire in the same pit that Beth and I had used. There were charred pieces of wood in the center.
The wind felt good on my skin. I picked a piece of beach grass and held it between my cupped hands the way Nadir had taught me. I blew hard and got a shrill whistle for my efforts.
I scooped a handful of sand and let it trickle out of my palms like an hourglass. I saw a burned match lying there. I knew it wasn’t likely, but I wanted to believe it was the same one from when Beth and I had been out here. I went to pick it up, but the burned end crushed between my fingers, leaving only a black smear.
I could still remember our first kiss. Once Beth kissed me it seemed like the world was irrevocably different. Now it was different again, but in a very dark way.
Britney was unbeatable. She’d convinced everyone of every single lie that flew out of her mouth. I’d never believed it would be easy to prove what she’d done, but it wasn’t just difficult, it was impossible. Every time I tried I slid further back, lost more ground, and became more and more isolated. My teammates, my brother, my teachers, my family—none of them could help me. Nadir had tried: he’d found Nicole for me, but all that turned out to be was another dead end.
Brit had been smart. She’d killed Beth first, the one person who knew her best. The only one who would believe me because she knew what Brit was capable of doing. Most likely the only person who could have beaten Brit at this game. Those of us who were left didn’t stand a chance.
Beth was the one who really knew her. Years of whispered secrets in the dark at slumber parties. Truth or Dare confessions. Shared experiences where when they were
over you would make the other promise to never tell. I knew Brit, but nowhere near as well as Beth had.
Beth would have known how to beat Brit, but I didn’t. We hadn’t been friends long enough. We hadn’t been close enough to share real confidences. I chuckled. The odd thing was I was closer to Brit after she killed Beth. At least I’d really known her then. Finally we had a secret together.
Britney needed me. She’d reached out to me to hear what she was missing while she was gone. She’d used me to figure out how she might be able to come back. I think she kept me close afterward because she still wanted that connection to Beth, to who she had been before all of this happened. If she could get me to believe her lie, she could maybe convince herself of it too. She still wanted me around. She needed me as the one person who knew what she did, someone who could appreciate her true capabilities and could keep up her vision of who she wanted to be.
I dug my feet into the cool sand. I didn’t know if Britney was smarter than me, but there was no doubt in my mind she was way more skilled at this game then I was. She was varsity in manipulation; I was barely a scratch player. She had a bigger, better team.
A better team.
Unbeatable.
The words bounced around in my head. Unbeatable. A better team. Knocking. Reminding me. I did have the answer. Beth had even told it to me.
“I am so sick of hearing how we don’t stand a chance,” I huffed. I was out of breath as I jogged on the treadmill in the gym. Beth was next to me, somehow managing to look good even while she sweated. “Our team is in the best shape ever.”
“Yeah, but the Spartans are better.”
I was so shocked at her answer I missed a step and almost face-planted. Beth’s laugh bounced off the mirrors in the fitness room.
“You can’t think they’re better than us.” I turned off my machine. “We’ve won five straight games. Our score average is up from last year, people are running faster, and our defense is way better since we started those drills.”
