by Cyn Balog
“What?” His gaze was too intense. I had to look away. “Andrew was feeling sick, and—”
“Why didn’t you bring your boyfriend, Vic?” he repeated, louder this time.
I shrunk back. He wanted me to admit that I’d left you at home so I could be alone with him, that I’d planned this all along. But that wasn’t true. You bowed out on me. I opened my mouth to speak, but stammered. “I-I don’t know. I…”
My eyes trailed behind him, to the cabinets near the window. One of them, the one on the very bottom, U–Z, was slightly open. “Wait. Whose files were you going through?”
But the answer was written all over his face.
“You went through mine? Those are private!”
“Last night, after the play…I had to know the truth.”
I scowled at him. So this was why he was risking expulsion? If he had gone through my files, all he would’ve found were the details about my dull meetings with Leary. Hardly the stuff of good investigative journalism. “What truth? That my grade point average is a three-point-three?”
He put a hand under my chin, twisting my face to meet his. “Say it,” he murmured. “Come on.”
I started to quiver, and tears flooded my eyes. His intensity scared me.
“Then don’t say it,” he whispered as I closed my eyes, feeling his eyelashes fluttering on my face. “Just know that I know. It’s OK. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I answered.
“You and me. We’re both so fucked up, so afraid that one wrong move will send the house of cards crumbling to the ground. I get you, all right? That’s what I mean.”
The anxiety. Yes, sometimes, that crumbling feeling was all I felt. But I’d been rendered mute by a combination of fear and desire. As he pressed his body against mine, I lost myself again, right there, in the tragedy of us. There were so many forces working to keep us apart, and yet we always wound up together. Binding energy, Lincoln would’ve said. It had a definition in chemistry class, but right now, the only definition I could think of was the two of us.
I thought Z was going to kiss me, so I relinquished control and tilted my chin up to meet him. But he stopped. He didn’t jump; he didn’t back away; he didn’t do anything to convey we were in danger. Instead he uttered a listless, “Zup.”
Dazed, I followed his line of sight to the door.
Parker had cleaned herself up. Her hair was down but brushed, and her makeup was flawless. The only ugly thing about her was her expression. “What are you doing, Z?” Parker snarled.
Z backed away from me. “Look, Parker, it’s—”
She scoffed. “Not what I think it is? Really? You’re going to use that line on me?”
His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “No, it’s exactly what you think it is. But what you don’t get is—”
Her eyes blazed. “What? That you’re a real asshole, Z? No, I get that.” Tossing her hair, she turned and stalked out the door.
My heart was in my throat. “Do you think she’s going to get us expelled?”
I could almost see the gears in his head turning. “Not if I can help it.” He adjusted his tie and raced after her.
A strange calmness settled over me as I fixed my dress and closed the office door behind me. This was Z. He’d find a way to fix it. I didn’t doubt that one bit.
Chapter 35
Description of Head Injuries: Multiple contusions on back of skull and fracture associated with blunt force trauma. Multiple punctuate scratches were present over the bridge of the nose. The left cheek was contused and edematous, with an overlying two-inch contusion. The lips were abraded. The mucosal surfaces of the lips were contused and slightly edematous, with multiple superficial lacerations. Four-inch area of abrasion along left mandible region.
—Coroner’s report
Z managed to coax Parker into leaving with him. I saw them slip out the front doors together, and they drove home without me. I didn’t mind. The ride home would have been very uncomfortable.
I caught a ride home with Marcus Poplin and Ava Brice, a couple of seniors who live in Milo. I made small talk with Marcus and Ava, and they went on and on about how well I did in Macbeth, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about Z. I wondered what he was saying to Parker. I wondered why knowing him was like trying to decode the most baffling of riddles. Why had he been so intent on breaking into Cole’s office? Just to go through my files? If that was the case, he didn’t have to risk our expulsion. I would’ve told him whatever he wanted to know.
But that was Z. He thrived on danger.
I sure didn’t.
When I got home, my pulse was still pounding, and I was shivering because my dress was damp with cooling perspiration. You were waiting on my front porch, the collar of your lumberjack flannel pushed up to your ears to ward off the cold. I wiped my mouth and forced my best smile as you took my hand. “How was it?” you asked me.
“Not so great,” I mumbled. “I wish you’d been there.”
That was the truth, incidentally.
“You know I can’t do those things, Vic.”
There was an unusual fierceness in your eyes. I tried to head to my door, but you held on to me. Then you pulled me to you and kissed me.
I like the way you kiss, Andrew. You and Z are a study in opposites. He takes control, and you do everything tentatively. But this time, there was no hesitation in your kiss. It was as if you’d been psyching yourself up to do it. You never quite know where to put your hands or how to move your tongue, but you’re sweet and gentle and you taste good. And you let me be an equal participant in the kiss.
I was tired of Z being so complicated and volatile. I wanted easy, safe. One boy and one girl in love forever. Enough of this bouncing around between Z’s whims. I wanted the comfort and stability only you could offer me.
After a few seconds, you tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let you go. You felt too good.
“We can continue this,” I whispered, coaxing your body toward mine.
I was going to suggest you come to my bedroom, but you shot down the idea before I could get it out. “We can’t.”
I pouted, then leaned in and kissed your ear. “I want to.”
You backed away and looked at the ground. “I can’t. Jeez, Vic.”
I stopped.
Your voice was harder than I’d ever heard it. “You know this. You know it’s impossible. You…you need to get a good night’s sleep, Vic. Whatever you want me to do, it can’t happen. I know I’m not the person you want anymore. That’s my fault. I accept it. You…you still have a chance to find that person. The person who’ll make you happy.” There was disappointment on your face. Had I ever disappointed you before? “If I come to your bedroom, I’ll only make things worse.”
You may have been scared, but you had no reason to fear me. I didn’t see what we would have done as tearing us apart—I wanted us to building something beautiful between us. Except nothing I did drove you wild enough to abandon all reason. While at times I thought Z had a cold heart, often I thought yours was even colder. Sometimes you made me feel so wrong. Why couldn’t I get you crazy with desire? Why couldn’t I get you to lose inhibitions, Andrew? Why did you have to be so damn well-behaved?
I dropped your hand and ran into the house without another word.
Chapter 36
Ms. Cole, was Z agitated the night of the dance?
Yes.
Do you know what he was upset about?
We’d had a fight. About Victoria. She came without a date and proceeded to glom on to him, taking up all his attention. He was my date, and yet he couldn’t say no to her. Like I said, sometimes he was too nice for his own good. I think he liked having her hanging on his every word. She was his groupie. I told him he needed to man up and tell her to get her own life. At first he agre
ed, but then he started acting really strange.
But he still drove you home.
Right. Well, not home. We went to an after-party. But he apologized, and everything was fine between us.
So he didn’t drive Victoria home.
Right. Victoria wasn’t invited to the after-party at the hotel because it was just three couples, so it was never the plan to take her. But something was on Z’s mind. On the drive to the hotel, he was quiet. Then he banged his hands on the steering wheel and told me he needed to fix something.
What?
Who knows? The world. That’s Z. He dropped me off at the hotel, saying he was sorry but he’d make it up to me, then he sped away.
And you have no idea where he was going or what he needed to fix. Do you think it involved Victoria?
I don’t know. Yes, maybe. He wouldn’t tell me. Like I said, Z loved a good mystery, especially one starring him.
—Police interview with Parker Cole, junior at St. Ann’s
I wanted to be with you that night, Andrew. Just so we’re perfectly clear: it was supposed to be you.
I told my parents the dance was boring but fine and headed straight to my room. Z texted me as I was getting ready for bed. U make it home OK?
I texted back: Yep, no thanks to you. ;) Then I texted him what I was really thinking: What happened with Parker?
He came back with: Nothing good. Doghouse. Population me. With a little emoji of a black dog with a pink tongue.
Serves you right. You ARE a dog. Will she tell Cole?
He quickly responded: Nah.
Really? I thought we were doomed for sure.
I waited a long time for the next text. We need to talk. Alone.
I’d gotten to be an expert at texting—and expert at many other things, thanks to Z. But my fingers trembled over the screen: That depends. Will you break up with her?
His response made my stomach drop. What about him?
I swallowed. I didn’t want to break up with you. I love you, Andrew. Always, unconditionally. What we had was like coming home after a long adventure. Z was that adventure. I’d been unfair to you. You deserved so much better. If I broke up with him…then what???
He wouldn’t let you go.
I stared at those words. You and I are close, Andrew, but Z didn’t know you. He didn’t know the gentle soul you were. If I broke up with you, you’d go. You’d hate it, and it would destroy you, but you’d leave me be. And God, I didn’t want to destroy you. I never wanted that.
Never.
Vic. Stop. You have to stop pretending.
I would rather die than break your heart, Andrew. You and I…that was all I knew. We were a given. Maybe that was why I took our relationship for granted. But the possibility of there no longer being an “us” was more terrifying than thrilling, like losing a limb. I know.
Then I typed: Come over tonight.
I smiled at his response. Thought you’d never ask.
I opened the window and let the cold air in. I was warm with anticipation, my face flushed. Every part of me ached to be filled by him. As I stood in front of the window, taking in deep breaths of frosty air, I saw that little orange fireball near your house. Your stepdad’s cigarette. He was out in the backyard, muttering curses into the darkness.
It was after midnight. I thought about how you’d turned me down, Andrew, how it could’ve been you in my bed that night. I heard noises that could’ve been your mother crying. Your stepfather was probably pissed at you for coming back so early. He probably called you a faggot again. Am I right?
Z must have been driving toward my house when he texted, too hyped up to go home, because he showed up only a few minutes after your father went inside and slammed the screen door. Z scaled the side of my house and said as he threw his leg over the windowsill, “I thought that guy would never leave. Angry man.”
“That’s Andrew’s stepfather,” I explained. I started babbling about your stepdad, about how he didn’t do anything but work and drink and drag you on hunting trips, but Z silenced me with a finger across my lips.
“I don’t want to think about them. Just you.”
He kissed me, uncharacteristically tenderly and softly. He led me to the edge of my bed as if it were his room and sat down with me between his legs, staring up at me with such little-boy innocence, as if I held his whole world in my hands. He slowly slipped my zipper down my side.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. “I just want to be close to you.”
I nodded and pulled my dress down the rest of the way, then helped him remove his shirt. Just thinking of his body made me suck in a breath and tremble—but getting to touch it again? Taste it? I tentatively traced a finger along the rise of muscle just under his collarbone. His skin was so smooth, like sculpted marble, with a little coarse, golden hair. He wasn’t a boy. He wasn’t a man either. He was only a hairbreadth from immortality.
We got into my bed, under my ruffled comforter, and pressed against each other. He was so warm, and I could feel his heart throbbing against mine. He held me, breathing softly on my shoulder for the longest time. “This feels perfect,” he murmured. “You know, you’re perfect.”
It was perfect. Ours was a study in inevitability. That night, we didn’t make love. I’d always thought that phrase was corny. No, we made more than that—we made each other. We didn’t rush. We bared everything to each other, as was meant to be. As was right.
The sky began to lighten. He held on to me, his chest against my back. His lips nipped my ear as he whispered, “I don’t want to leave you.”
The thought instantly hollowed me. “Then don’t. Stay with me, and let’s do this forever.”
He kissed the top of my nose. “Think your parents would have something to say about that?”
I sighed. I knew they would.
“It’s like a different world here, a fantasy world.” He pointed to the window. “I don’t want to face what’s out there. I know you don’t either.”
I know he didn’t mean it, but he pointed at our spot. And the second he did, guilt overwhelmed me. I stiffened, then wiggled out of his arms.
He sat up and looked at me. “What?”
“I… Nothing.”
“Tell me,” he said, tracing circles on my knee. “If you don’t tell me, how am I supposed to help you?”
I shook my head. That’s one thing Z never got; sometimes things couldn’t be fixed. “I… Forget it.”
“You’re an enigma wrapped inside a conundrum, you know that?” He sighed, throwing up his hands.
“You’re one to talk! You’re a riddle shrouded in a mystery.”
He chuckled, conceding. “OK. But what was the first thing I told you when we met? To ask me. Ask me anything.”
“What, so you could make a joke in answering?”
For a second he looked stricken, but he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “You want secrets? I’ll tell you all my secrets. But only on the condition that you tell me yours.”
I sighed. “But I don’t have any.”
He stared at me as if I’d sprouted horns. “Yeah, you do.”
“You went through my files at school. What did they say about me?” I asked. “I get the feeling you already know all my secrets.” I whispered the last part because it was kind of ridiculous. Even if my file contained notes from my talks with Leary, that information wasn’t juicy. I took anxiety meds. So what? So did a million other people. I had nothing to hide.
Z motioned to zip his lips, and I lunged at him and playfully pulled the imaginary zipper back. I so desperately wanted to know him. “OK, fine,” I said. “We trade. You go first. Shoot.”
He gripped handfuls of my pillow. He didn’t look at me. “I… Oh hell. Here goes. The rumors about me and Bethany? They weren’t lies.”
I don’t know why I wa
s so shocked. Z never did anything halfway, so I should’ve known his secret would be huge. “You mean…”
“After my grandparents died, there was all this back-and-forth about where I was going to go to finish up my schooling. I came here from Arizona over the summer, not knowing anyone, not knowing what the fuck I was going to do. The only person I knew was Bethany. She picked me up at the airport, and well…she’s hot and she was nice to me. Really nice, and not in the way an aunt would be. She and I…” He paused for a moment. “It was like we were playing house together, isolated from everyone else. We were both lonely people who ended up drifting together. And then she told me she had to register me for school. I didn’t know why, at first. I figured I’d get my GED and get a job, but she was insistent. I thought it was all a joke, me going to a private Catholic school like St. Ann’s on the state’s dime, her acting all mom.
“The next day, she introduced me to this boyfriend I didn’t know she had. I quickly figured out why she’d agreed to have me stay with her. I’m her meal ticket. She’s collecting money from the government as my guardian—you know, to feed and clothe me. But it doesn’t go to that; it goes into their pockets. Will, her boyfriend, is a fucking a-hole. He told me that if I didn’t want to be thrown out on the street, I’d better start earning my keep. Dealing to the rich kids at school and stuff. You know, like the bowling alley. That is why I’m at St. Ann’s, and why I’m so popular there. So…I don’t know, Vic. My life is fucked up beyond recognition right now.”
I stared at him for the longest time.
He’d said his life was fucked up a million times. He’d said I was too sweet to be corrupted by him. I thought he was just saying those things.
But yeah, his revelation was more than I expected. Suddenly, every one of his unexplained absences and mood swings made sense. All those times he’d been unable to meet me to practice his lines.
“Oh my God, Z,” I whispered. I could feel a tremor in his body. He was scared. For the first time, he didn’t have his life under control. “You need to leave. You can’t stay with them.”
