by Jaime Reed
“That’s what you get for being nosy.” I pranced to the back kitchen.
She looked like she wanted to say something, perhaps talk me out of it, but no reply came.
After a shower, quick wardrobe change, and another cautionary tale from Mom, I was back at the Buncha Books parking lot just before nine. Caleb stood by his Jeep, looking quite snazzy in frayed jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. When he spotted me, he almost choked on his candy bar.
I couldn’t blame him. I looked good in a black one-piece halter set, an outfit I had to peel on in my car because Mom would wild out if she saw it. But my covert operation was well rewarded by the look in Caleb’s eyes; a look that, for once, had nothing to do with food.
Swallowing hard, he stepped closer. “Damn, Samara, you’ve got great legs.”
“Yeah, Mom let me borrow them for the next thirty years.”
“I take it you hear that a lot?”
Feeling heat rush to my cheeks, I studied my feet. “A few times. Maybe I should keep a coin jar under the register at work like you do.”
“You’d make a fortune.” He dug in his pocket and handed me a quarter. “This should start you off.”
“Thanks.” I plucked the coin from his fingers.
“You ready?”
“Sure.” I dropped the quarter in my bag as he escorted me to his Jeep.
Robbie Ford’s house was huge with a pool in the back. His parents were always out traipsing around the world, doing God knows what. Why no one called Social Services or who actually signed his permission slips and report cards remained a mystery to this day. Everyone at school had believed he was an orphan until Mr. and Mrs. Ford made a cameo appearance at his graduation.
His folks were a peculiar lot, and one glimpse into their bedroom drove that fact home. There were mirrors on the ceiling and some sort of harness bolted to the wall, complete with an odd assortment of costumes in the closet. Needless to say, that room was off limits to visitors.
Robbie was an interesting one. He was going to MIT in the fall, and I still believed he blackmailed the dean to get in. He was a closet brain—the go-to guy who could hack into any database and procure just about anything. If one needed to get out of the country ASAP, he could provide a fake passport for a reasonable fee.
He greeted us at the door with a silk bathrobe, boxers, and a pipe in his mouth. “Sammy, my sweet, buttery goodness, you look ravishing,” he declared in the best Sean Connery impersonation I ever heard.
“Thanks, Rob.” I stepped inside to peck cheeks.
Pulling away, he took stock of the tall man in front of him. “Who’s this?”
“This is my friend, Caleb.”
“Friend, huh? Is there a benefit package involved?”
I punched Robbie’s arm. “Shut up.”
“I’m Robert Ford, host of the Shangri-La. Mi casa es su casa, but not the master suite upstairs.” He shuddered at the thought of his parents’ bedroom.
“Thanks. Nice to meet you.” After shaking hands, Caleb scooted his way through the crowd.
People underestimated the power of word of mouth. The house was packed. Half of the guests went to rivaling schools and William & Mary.
Robbie had hired a deejay, who stood between four monster speakers in the corner. The house shook with hard dance music, vibrating the pulse between my clavicle bones. The air was alive and breathing within this world of dry-humping and drinking games.
Nearing the center of the madness, Caleb pulled me in for a dance. He wasn’t too bad, but the music didn’t require many moves, just high-energy bouncing and head bobbing. When a popular song came on, the entire continental shelf rushed the dance floor. Bodies jumped in the air, drinks splashed, voices howled and sung along. It was the end of the world, and we were going out with a bang.
Needing some fresh air, I maneuvered to the patio with Caleb on my tail. Though it was almost eighty degrees outside, it felt like supermarket air-conditioning compared to the dance floor.
Guys plunged into the pool and floated on inner tubes. Girls squealed and raced around barefoot, trying not to get pushed in. Sparklers twirled in hands and fireworks exploded overhead. Guests walked by holding paper plates and red plastic cups. Hotdogs and burgers hissed in the grill to my left, and the line for a sample wrapped around the pool.
All of this set away into a moving backdrop of disengagement. Perhaps the detachment was purely on my end, like a phantom that haunted the last place visited while alive. It no longer felt like home, but I couldn’t quite move on.
Caleb stood behind me and stroked my bare arms. “You okay?”
The contact made me shiver. His fingers did a job on a girl’s nerves, but I didn’t ask him to stop. “I’m fine. I needed air. You having fun?”
“Surprisingly enough. But if you wanna leave, we can.”
“No. I’m just thinking about school. It’s funny seeing people in the hall every day, not even friends, just the same old people you bump into. I’ll never see these guys again, not like I used to, not all together like this.”
His chest rose and fell against my back. “Will you miss them?”
“Some. I mean, Mia and I are thugs for life. We get to graduate together next year, but Robbie and half of the gang I hung out with already graduated. Everything’s gonna change; it’s a feeling I can’t shake off. I’m moving up in the ranks. I’m a senior now and one step closer to the end. I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”
“Just the fact that you’re aware of it is enough, I guess. You’ve gotten used to people making decisions for you. Stay in school, go to college, get a job, and then what? There’s no instruction manual on life, Sam. And not one path is for everyone.”
“Is that why you didn’t go to college?” I asked.
“Yeah, I know people who are about to graduate college and still don’t know what to do with themselves. If I’m gonna blow fifty grand on education, I wanna know what for.”
“What do you want out of life?”
He kept quiet for the longest time. Squeezing my waist tight, he said, “Consistency, independence, and something that’s mine and mine alone.”
I looked up at him. “Have you found it yet?”
“Not yet, but I have time. All I have is time.”
I smiled. “Must be nice.”
He leaned over to look at me. “What school are you going to apply to?”
“Howard. Dad went there, and he wants me to follow in his footsteps.”
“Is that what you want?”
“God yes! It’s been my dream to be a lawyer like my dad, but I wanna do criminal law.”
“Well, you sure know how to argue, that’s for sure.” He kissed the back of my neck.
Warmth coated my belly as a tickle crawled from his lips to the base of my spine.
I shivered. “Why did you do that?”
“What? Kiss your neck?”
“Yeah.”
His breath bounced against my ear. “Well, aside from your legs, that’s my favorite spot on you. Does it bother you?”
“No. It’s just a weird place to kiss someone.”
He turned me to face him. “I can think of a better place.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. Now that I had him relaxed, I asked the question that haunted me all week, the main reason I invited him to come along.
“There’s something strange about you, Caleb.”
He laughed softly to himself.
“What are you hiding? Why are you hiding?”
His smile melted away, that warm sun dipping behind the horizon. “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Do I scare you?” he asked.
It took a moment to consider it and I answered as truthfully as I could. “No. In fact, I feel comfortable. Too comfortable. I don’t let guys hug me like I do with you and that’s a sign right there that something’s wrong. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
The back of his hand stroked my cheek. “Tell you what; I’ll answer all your questions af
ter the party if you just give me these few moments, right now, with you.”
I didn’t like the sound of this at all. It held the finality of a parting gesture, a last request. Was the truth so bad that he would start avoiding me again, or skip town? Or maybe I was the one who would leave. The wait was killing me, but at least I was making progress.
“Okay? Should I be worried?” I asked.
“No. But I have to warn you, it’s a long story. You might start nodding off.”
“I doubt it.” My lips were inches from his when something caught my eye. Much like that Sesame Street game, one of these things was not like the other; something just did not belong.
“What the—” I pulled away from Caleb and raced to the drink table. I made it just in time to slap the beer out of her hand.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Alicia yelled, wearing enough makeup to run her own circus.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She folded her arms, pushing her breasts even farther up out of her top. “What’s it to you?”
“This is a senior party. You’re not supposed to be here. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be drinking.”
Her raccoon eyes narrowed. “Neither should you.”
“Do you see a drink in my hand?” I looked around.
“They’ve got soda in the cooler over there. How did you get in?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Garrett invited me.”
The answer was like a punch in the gut. Every PSA episode of Degrassi flashed before my eyes.
“Garrett?”
“Yes, Garrett. So, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned her back and began mingling.
I pulled her arm. “Come on. I’m taking you home. Your dad would have a fit.”
“Let go of me!” Yanking her arm away, she tumbled back, almost snapping her three-inch heels. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re the one who seemed to have outgrown your old friends, and you just hate that I’m gonna be popular now. All your little cool friends wanna talk to me. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you’re gonna be popular all right, but for all the wrong reasons. Now come on.” I reached for her, but she jumped away.
“No. You owe me for covering your shift. Just let me have fun for once.”
And with that, I let her go. I’d known she would call in that favor eventually. True, this party was an efficient way to climb the social ladder, but she was easy prey among a pack of wolves—a pack of oversexed, intoxicated wolves.
Caleb joined my side. “What’s Alicia doing here?”
I rubbed my shoulder, working out the sudden cramp. “Making a name for herself.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed as he watched her hug every man within reach. “We should take her home.”
I shook my head. “It’s cool. I’ll just keep an eye on her.”
When we got back inside, I saw Mia yelling at Dougie in the corner. From what little I could understand, some drunk girl was hanging all over Dougie and, of course, Mia walked in at the wrong moment. There was a push, a shove, and then the most violent tongue wrestle I ever had the displeasure of witnessing.
“Are they always like that?” Caleb asked.
“Yep.”
“They should get their own sitcom.” He shook his head and handed me a soda.
For the rest of the party, I played chastity maid for Alicia and referee for Mia and Dougie. Between shifts, I gave Caleb what he wanted: time alone with me and the freedom to get lost in the moment. For just a few hours, the world comprised of two beings dancing to the rhythmic pulse around us as well as the beat within.
One o’clock was my cue to leave before Mom took it upon herself to hunt me down. The party was dying and Mia and Dougie were already gone. Caleb waited by the car while I went to grab Alicia. I didn’t care if she was having the time of her life. It was days past her curfew, and her dad was going to hit the ceiling.
I searched upstairs, then around the pool area. I asked stragglers if they’d seen her, but all I got were shrugs and incoherent nos. I was about to give up when I saw something large and blond swaying near the trees. I raced down the deck and to the wooded area behind the house.
The closer I moved, the louder the sound—a soft moaning. It wasn’t a content moan, but one of protest, like a child fighting in his sleep. Whimpering soon followed, and I was on high alert. In moments, I spotted Alicia pinned to the ground underneath Garrett. He was twice her size, so she couldn’t have fought him off even if she was sober.
When I saw his big hands pull at her underwear, I lost it. I couldn’t explain what happened inside me, but “Oh, hell no!” was the recurring theme. In seconds, I was on the scene, and Garrett got a size-eight shoe to the face.
Dad taught me one key principle about fighting: When you get someone down, make sure they stay down. I kicked, punched, screamed, and cursed. Samara Marshall was possessed and highly pissed. All of my mother’s warnings and teachings rose to the surface, all the righteous man-hate exploded in a mushroom cloud of rage.
When he was no longer moving, I climbed off and crawled to Alicia. She curled on the ground, hugging herself. Dirt and leaves tangled in her twisty braids, but I saw no visible injuries.
“Alicia.” I kneeled over her, and she shied away. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
“Daddy,” she whimpered and curled into a ball instinctively. The strangled sound made me want to commit murder. I reached down to help her up when something large knocked me to the ground.
I looked up and saw Garrett looming over me, looking unpleased with the rearrangement I had made to his face. He clutched at his chest and pulled at his ripped undershirt.
After spitting a mouthful of blood, he wheezed, “You should have stayed out of this, bitch.”
His advance was intersected by something dark and fast from the left. It came at him in a blur and with such unnatural momentum, it sent Garrett’s body flying behind a row of bushes.
I blinked a few times, unable to truly process the sight. When I finally stood up, low gurgling echoed through the trees, followed by a dry wheezing sound. I inched toward the shrubs and saw Caleb leaning over Garrett, giving him mouth-to-mouth. Caleb was so quick—I never saw him roll up—but I was glad he was here to help. The force of that push must have knocked Garrett out because he had stopped moving.
I shifted my feet, debating over which to do first: collect Alicia, go for help, or call the police.
Where was my bag anyway? I dropped it around here somewhere. And what was Caleb doing?
Between all the medical shows and emergency drills at school, I never saw CPR like this. Caleb’s lips locked on Garrett’s, not once pausing to pump his chest. I expected Caleb’s cheeks to puff out as he pushed air into Garrett’s mouth, but it was just the opposite.
I thought I walked into the middle of a Brokeback moment, until I saw Garrett was no longer moving. Still, unblinking eyes stared up at the sky, immersed, yet focused on nothing. His skin, a filmy, translucent sheet, looked more like gelatin than flesh.
“Omigod!” I gasped. “Caleb, something’s wrong. We need to call—” was all I could say before Caleb lifted his head in my direction. Every last bit of sanity left my body in one scream.
10
That Sunday, I took my ass to church.
I was virtually a stranger around these parts, and it came as a relief to step inside the building and not burst into flames. I sat in the first row, probably taking someone’s seat, and shaking like a junkie. But I needed some spiritual counsel among godly folk. Rhonda had said that they were good for those troubled times. Well, times couldn’t get any worse than this. The sermon drifted in and out of my mental range, for I hadn’t truly seen or heard anything since last night.
I had seen Garrett’s lifeless body and that string of white vapor being pulled from his mouth; the raised veins collecting around his cheeks and hands; his skin sinking in as though it was drying out from the sun. His body twi
tched in a final effort to stay alive, his face locked behind the grotesque mask of horror once the inevitable took root.
I bore witness to the greedy swipe of Caleb’s tongue as the last of the strange mist passed his lips. I could almost feel the violent spasms contorting his body. I heard his growl fill the night, a battle cry inspired by the ecstasy and rage haunting his eyes.
Those glowing, purple eyes.
Caleb crawled along the grass, trembling with tears streaking his cheeks. “Get Alicia home. Now!” he ordered between breaths and tossed me his keys.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I found my bag, got Alicia to her feet, and dragged her back to Robbie’s house.
It took all my combined faculties to get Alicia home in the vehicle of a man who had just sucked the life out of a potential rapist, but it was accomplished. Driving straight proved a true test of strength. Alicia was pretty out of it, so she hadn’t seen how Garrett died—one less thing I would have to explain.
I wanted to blame Alicia for being the typical horror-flick damsel. I would always yell at the screen at stupid girls who went off in the woods in high heels, but it’s a whole other story when it’s someone you know, and when you know her parents.
When I reached Alicia’s house, I parked up the block. Knowing her dad was an ex-marine, I wasn’t about to get accidentally shot. Alicia teetered in and out of consciousness, her head rolling along the seat. Her dark cheeks glistened with tears and sweat.
I took a tissue and wiped some of that glam-rock makeup off her face, and sat her up straight. “Come on, wake up. You’re home.”
Moaning, she looked around, then jumped. Clinging to me, she began crying. I wasn’t sure what scared her more, what could’ve happened, or what would happen when she entered her house. Stroking her hair, I whispered words of encouragement, then opened the door for her. She didn’t thank me, but her eyes spoke for her.
I waited for Alicia to reach the stoop before I started the engine. Once the porch light clicked on and the door swung open, I took off, leaving skid marks in my wake.
