Unnatural Deeds

by Cyn Balog

  Because my parents and your mom were there.

  I looked for you, and my heart sank as I realized you hadn’t come. I knew it was a long shot to ask, what with your anxiety. Still, I’d hoped. I know you didn’t want to let me down.

  But you did. I understand why, but it hurt me not to see you there. I suppose after what I did to you at Perahia, I deserved that little turnabout, didn’t I?

  I introduced Z your parents, and they all told me how wonderful I’d been. Then they heaped their praise on Z. Your mother told me she was so happy for me and hugged me tight.

  I told your mom, “I’m sorry Andrew couldn’t be here.”

  My father cleared his throat. My mother hooked her arm through mine, as if expecting me to collapse like a house of cards. But all I was thinking was that maybe it was better this way. You were where you wanted to be, and I was where I wanted to be.

  Oh God, you could cut the awkward silence with a knife. Their eggshell smiles told me everything. They’d watched Z chase me out into the hallway and grab me, coming in close enough to kiss me.

  They knew I’d betrayed you.

  The only person who wasn’t awkward was Z. He smiled and tossed his cape over his shoulder, wordlessly taking it all in. Then he told me he’d swing by my house at seven the next day for the dance, and I nodded and waved good-bye.

  He turned on his heel and sauntered down the hallway and out to the parking lot, still rocking that cape of his.

  I suddenly felt goofy in my cape, so I untied it.

  He had no one. Not a single person from his family had come to see his brilliant performance.

  And yet I still envied him as he escaped into the cold November night.

  Chapter 34

  Who do you think was responsible for the acid incident?

  Who would do that?

  If you had to pinpoint anyone…

  Probably Victoria.

  Victoria…you think she poisoned her own bottle?

  I know it sounds out there. But I could see her doing something like that. I mean, there were all these rumors about her from her last school, that she’d gone berserk. So yeah, I wouldn’t put it past her to poison her own water bottle to get attention.

  So Victoria had acted out before to get attention?

  She tried out for the play. Does that count?

  You did too. You were her understudy.

  What? Are you saying I poisoned Victoria so that I could be in the play? Yeah, no.

  Were you upset you didn’t get the part?

  A little, but I wouldn’t hurt anyone for the role. I mean, that’s crazy. But Victoria has a shady history. Nobody quite knows what’s going on with her. My boyfriend’s last girlfriend went to Duchess and said she’d break down crying for no reason in the middle of math. Plus, she totally had the motive. What can I say? She was jealous of me. She wanted what I had.

  What you had?

  Yeah, duh. My boyfriend. Z, I mean. Not the guy I’m dating now.

  OK, but if Victoria had it in for you, why did she poison herself? Why not sabotage your water bottle?

  Because then I would’ve been the center of attention. And she didn’t want that.

  Would she have had the opportunity?

  Totally. She could’ve done that anytime she wasn’t in a scene.

  Did the stunt have the desired effect?

  The second he heard the news, Z was at her side, volunteering to take her to the hospital.

  So obviously he didn’t think she’d done it to herself.

  No. He always thought the best of everyone. He even offered to give her a ride to the dance.

  So they were friends?

  Friends, yeah. Maybe even more. I don’t know why. He was the only person she talked to, really. He managed to get her to open up, and I think he liked how that made him special. He might have felt sorry for her, but I think he enjoyed protecting her. They were both the new kids. But it was sickening, really, how quickly he’d drop everything the second she needed him. Z lived for secrets, for mysteries. He gravitated to them. And she was one of the biggest mysteries in school. So, whatever.

  You sound a little jealous.

  I don’t get jealous. And I don’t get even either. Victoria was weird. And there was no mistaking that she was vengeful too. Especially after what she did at the dance.

  —Interview with Parker Cole, junior at St. Ann’s

  The dance. I thought about it literally every second of that day and, because of that, allowed myself too much time to get ready. Every step in the process was like part of a sacred ritual. I started with a long bubble bath, then washing and curling my hair, and slathering on passion fruit lotion. I think brides probably spend less time getting ready on their wedding day. Even so, I was ready before six.

  You are so like me, Andrew. You must have been carrying on your own rituals in your house because a little after six fifteen, you knocked on my front door. Your hair was slicked back with gel, and you were wearing your old, too-tight chinos and a carefully pressed white shirt and tie. You trembled, your face as somber as if we had a date with the executioner. You had a little plastic box with a corsage in it, which you dropped the second you saw me.

  “Oh God,” you whispered.

  I looked down at myself. “Do I look bad?”

  “No. Just…” And then you started to stutter. “I-I d-didn’t kn-now it was you, at f-first.”

  I pulled you inside. You were always comfortable with my parents, but there was a strange silence in the room when my parents came in. My father said, “Are you sure this is a good idea? It’s going to sleet later. The roads may be slippery,” but I just waved him off and told him that it would be fine.

  By the time seven rolled around, I could practically see your heart beating out of your chest.

  What was it, Andrew? Why were you scared of me? I’d like to think you were struck speechless by my beauty, but it was something else, wasn’t it? Did you know then that you couldn’t go through with it?

  When Z came, he honked from the driveway. They didn’t get out. I could see Parker’s blond hair and lipstick-magnified scowl through the dirty windshield of Z’s Civic as I navigated down the cracked driveway in my new high heels.

  But when I turned to wait for you, you weren’t behind me. You were standing on the porch between our two front doors, looking more frightened than ever.

  “Come on,” I beckoned.

  You bowed your head. “I can’t do this.”

  “Really?” I said, looking back at Z’s car. I had this frantic feeling. “You can. I promise. It’ll be fine.”

  You were sweating despite the cold air. I could see little droplets on your forehead, illuminated by the porch light. “Go on without me.”

  “I can’t do that,” I murmured, picking my way back up the steps, taking your hand, and tugging you toward me, all the time knowing that I could, and I would. I’d have gone in that car even if flaming meteorites were crashing down all over the earth. Z needed me.

  But you were resolute. “Really. Go. I’ll be fine.”

  And well, you know, I did. I had to, Andrew. I had promised Z.

  “Hi,” I said when I slid into the backseat.

  “Zup,” Z said, looking at me when I closed the door. “What about your boyfriend?”

  I was so wrapped up in wanting, needing Z to say more, to look me over and whistle or say I looked nice, that I didn’t answer. When I realized he wouldn’t be pulling out of the driveway without an explanation, I said, “He’s not feeling well. It’s just me tonight.”

  Parker looked up from her phone and let out an audible groan. Z mumbled something about that being “too bad,” then threw the car in reverse and looked back at me as he pulled out. Had he not done that, I might have waved at you or watched you as we pulled away.

 
He grinned mischievously, which made every hair on my body stand at attention.

  We rode to St. Ann’s without conversation. Z cranked up the volume on the radio because “Dope Hit” by the Young Freaks was playing. I watched Parker. She wasn’t wearing the expensive green dress she’d bought with me. This one was silver, like the wrapper on a Hershey’s kiss, and looked even more expensive. Her hair was twisted in an elaborate updo. At one point, she turned to me and slurred, “No date. Isn’t this convenient for you?”

  I peered over the seat back and saw one of those travel cups between her knees. She lifted it, took a sip from a straw that was rimmed in red, and then dug into her purse to reapply her lipstick.

  “Do you think you could bounce us around a little more?” she complained as Z went over a pothole. “I really want to have this gloss up my nose.”

  He looked over at her, his lips a straight line. I think if she hadn’t been Cole’s daughter, he might have deposited her on the side of the road to fend for herself. Instead, he slowed down.

  When we pulled up at the school, Parker insisted on being dropped off in front. The decorating committee had put up an arch of gray and burgundy balloons in the front doorway to the school, and a group of classmates was huddled under it, talking. When Parker tottered out of the car and nearly tripped up the curb, I finally realized why.

  She was drunk or high, or maybe both.

  “Do you need help?” I asked as she wavered on her heels in front of the school, trying to get the small strap of her purse over her head.

  She practically snarled at me as Rachel approached. “No, thank you.” She grabbed onto her friend’s arm and shrieked, “Let’s get this party started!”

  Rachel looked horrified. She mouthed to me, Is she on something?

  I shrugged, and Parker led her into the fray. Ordinarily if someone showed up to a school function in that state, she’d be suspended. But this was Principal Cole’s daughter. I assumed she’d be fine.

  I wanted to wait for Z, but he was parking the car in no-man’s-land and it had begun to rain. So I tried to push through the crowd, to find some place where I wouldn’t feel like a total third wheel. But the weirdest thing happened. People stopped me and said hi. They opened their circles to let me in. They all knew me now because of the play, because of Z. I chatted with all of them, and even though I didn’t know these people well, they acted like I’d been a part of their circle their entire lives.

  When they asked me who I came with, I told them my boyfriend was sick.

  Twenty minutes later, I saw Z. He moved through the crowd with ease, talking to people, giving high fives, laughing.

  We both orbited the room, but in different paths. Eventually, I knew that like two ions with opposite charges, we’d collide.

  After I made the rounds, I managed to snag a seat at one of the tables. I exhaled an enormous breath as I settled down with a basket of popcorn, thinking that would be my date for the night. I’d never been to a dance before. I’d been so wrapped up in getting you to go with me and trying to look beautiful that I hadn’t realized I had absolutely no idea what to do at one of these things. I trembled, feeling a little of what you must feel every time you step out of your house.

  I looked across the dance floor. Z had somehow found drunk Parker. She scowled at him, shaking her head belligerently. He seemed to say some calming words to her. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then looked in my general direction. I swung my head around and realized his eyes were fastened on the exit behind me. Two seconds later, I watched him escorting her toward the back hallway. Great. I collapsed against my seat and wondered if I should have stayed home with you. You wouldn’t dance even if you were here, but I missed you. Alone among the folding chairs, I felt fear vining its way up my spine. You don’t belong here.

  No.

  It was Z’s voice I thought of then. Vic, calm down. Relax, all right? You’re perfect.

  Before I knew it, I’d made my way from the empty chairs to join the throng. I was surprised that the kids on the dance floor welcomed me in. The newest song from Young Freaks was playing, and though I didn’t know the words, it seemed like everyone else did. The mob on the dance floor began to throb in time with the pulsing of the strobe light.

  I danced. I danced wildly for once, without caring or worrying what everyone else would think.

  Even though I kept my eye trained on the doorway that Z and Parker had disappeared through, I got caught up in the dance, the beat, the rhythm. I’d never felt so free. Parker wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking because I could smell the alcohol in people’s sweat, and everyone was going wild. But I felt drunk too. Maybe it was the strobe light. Or maybe it was Z reappearing alone. He stood on the sideline and scanned the room, then proceeded to make a beeline my way.

  He grabbed me by the hand and danced up next to me. I know he’d been joking, but he was a dancing machine. He hooked a finger and beckoned me close to him. I leaned my body toward him. He gyrated against me, and I had no choice but to match his movements with my own. I smelled his scent, that heady, cloying cinnamon that made me feel crazy enough to want to lick his jawline. Then he whispered, “You think your boyfriend would mind if I borrowed you?”

  I shook my head.

  Of course you’d mind.

  But that was beside the point.

  At that moment, I was dying to be alone with Z.

  He took my hand and led me toward the hallway. “Where’s Parker?” I asked.

  “Sleeping it off in the nurse’s office,” he said dismissively, leading me toward the front offices. We went past the guidance counselors’ offices, and sure enough, the one open door was to the nurse’s office. I thought we were going to check on her, but Z kept on walking.

  “Is she OK?”

  He nodded. “She’s bombed, but she’ll be fine. Come on.”

  I followed him into the secretary’s vestibule, where we stopped at a thick paneled door with “Principal Cole” written on a polished brass placard. He smiled at me and held up a key.

  “Where’d you—”

  He shushed me, then twisted the key and let me in. Before I knew it, he’d made himself comfortable behind Cole’s ornate, antique desk. He leaned back in the executive leather chair and put his feet up on the blotter, as if he had all the time in the world.

  I cast a nervous glance into the secretary’s office. “Can we go now?”

  Z shook his head and smiled. “Relax.”

  “But what are we…”

  He reached down and riffled through a drawer, pulling out a Sharpie, which he hung from his lip, like a cigar. “What do you think, kid? Zachary Zimmerman, leader of the free world. I like the sound of that.” He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Really, Z,” I told him. “What’s this all about? I mean, first you poison me, and now you’re begging for more trouble.”

  He gave me a questioning look, like I was the one who was up to no good, even though he was the one with both hands in the cookie jar. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything to your water bottle.”

  “Then who?”

  “My sweet girl,” he said. “You and I are the same. Why would I ever hurt you?”

  I melted right there. He could’ve called me his little sack of dog poo, and I would’ve swooned. Being called his anything always got me. “You never told me who did it.”

  “Who else? Parker. She’s jealous as hell of you.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Me? Why?”

  He tossed the key up in the air and caught it. “Why else? Because you have me.”

  I…had him? It certainly felt the other way around. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he stood up and strode over to me. He grabbed my hand and pushed a lock of hair out of my face. Then he put a finger on my chin and gently lifted it. “What does that mean?” I murmured
.

  “Come on, Precious.” He pulled me flush against him, and his fingers trailed down my bare shoulder blades, making me shiver. He found my zipper and tugged playfully at it, then brought his mouth to my ear, close but not quite touching.

  I knew if he asked anything of me, I would cave. It took all my strength to push him away. “No way. I’m wise to you and your snaky ways.”

  “Break my heart,” he said.

  If his heart was broken, you wouldn’t know it. He collapsed back into the chair, puffing on his imaginary cigar. I collected myself enough to remember where I was. “Z,” I begged. “Why are we even here?”

  “Ah, my sweet, innocent Vic. What will it take to turn you to the dark side?” Then he stood up and motioned me toward him. “Come on. You’ve always wanted to sit behind this desk, haven’t you? Do it. Just once.”

  Begrudgingly, I stalked over to the big leather chair and slumped into it. “Happy?”

  He’d already skirted to the file cabinet near the window. He stuck another key in the lock and twisted it, much to my horror. My voice broke as I said, “What are you doing now?”

  He shrugged, grinning, and started to leaf through the files.

  “Those are Cole’s private files. You could get expelled…arrested!” I whispered hoarsely. When he didn’t answer, I pushed out of the chair and stalked to the door. “I’m leaving.”

  But, of course, I hesitated. He knew he had me on a string, so my threat did nothing to stop him. By the time I got back to the main hall, I felt foolish. I stood there for a moment, already missing him and replaying his words: Because you have me.

  I turned around.

  I went back.

  We collided in the doorway as he was coming out of Cole’s office. He jumped back, eyes wide. Then he exhaled. “Hell, Vic.”

  “We need to—”

  He silenced me by planting his hands on my shoulders, bringing his face to just inches from mine. His eyes bored into mine, as if searching for some hidden truth. His voice was no longer playful. “Why didn’t you bring your boyfriend?”