PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  I try to smile at him, but images of kissing others fill my mind.

  “Why the look?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.” It’s as if I’m already betraying him with the thought of Coach Ted’s thin, scaly lips. I want to cry and gag at the same time.

  “We were talking about Annika,” says Miranda.

  “Oh.” Jason’s face falls. His jaw clenches as it always does when he’s gloomy or upset.

  We jog along together in silence.

  Then he nudges me, attempting a smile. It’s so sweet; he’s trying to make me feel better. Little does he know that I was just discussing which guys to kiss instead of him.

  I blink hard and push my sunglasses closer to my face.

  “Hey, I need to let you know I’ll be gone next week,” he says.

  I’m caught off guard and slow my pace. “Why?”

  “There was a snow dump in the mountains and my dad took some vacation time so we can go snowboarding. It’s our annual thing. I’m heading down to San Diego this weekend so we can drive up together.”

  “What about school?” I ask. Miranda trots beside us, puffing as she listens to our conversation.

  Jason shrugs. “I always get extra work from the teachers.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” I say. Being without Jason for a week will be difficult, not to mention that it opens up the perfect opportunity to try to find the killer. I have no more excuses now.

  “You’ll live,” says Miranda. “It’s only a week.” She elbows me. It’s obvious what she’s thinking. It’s time to go forward with our plan, ASAP. She’s right, of course. With Jason gone, I’ll be able to kiss more freely.

  My heart sinks to my feet.

  “I’m going to miss you, too,” Jason says, “but I’ll bring you back a surprise.”

  Despite my melancholy, giddy bubbles rise up inside me. “You need to hurry back then.”

  “Because of the surprise?”

  “Of course, what else?” I say.

  He elbows me, and I push him back, and then he tries to tickle me, and soon we’re laughing and horsing around as people jog by us. For a moment, it’s just Jason and me. Nothing else matters.

  Miranda stands a few feet away, breathing heavily with pink cheeks. She watches us with a quizzical smile. It must be weird to see me with a boyfriend. It’s always been Miranda who gets the guys.

  Billy Timmons puffs by in his too-long surfer shorts, and I’m aghast to think that I kissed that gross stoner before I kissed Jason. I’ll be kissing everyone before I kiss him. It just feels so wrong. My heart clenches.

  “Come on, let’s get going before Kirby jumps all over us,” I say, swallowing a hard lump. I feel tears coming on. I’m glad I’m wearing sunglasses.

  “You guys go ahead,” Miranda says. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  Jason and I jog down the long, rust-colored track. He’s running so close that his elbow grazes mine lightly. He grins over at me. I force a smile, trying to hide the gloom that swirls through my heart and mind.

  Jason has no idea of my thoughts.

  In a way, I’ve already betrayed him.

  13

  We’ve got a week to find out who killed Annika. With Jason gone, it’ll be easier to get people alone so I can kiss them. We decide I’ll start with Coach Ted and then work our way through the track team.

  I’m worried that people will start talking about me, but Miranda assures me Jason will never listen to any rumors. She says that as long as I get people alone and kiss them without any eyewitnesses, it’ll just be hearsay.

  “Jason knows your character,” she says. “He knows how much you like him. He’ll never believe a few whispers.”

  I push back my feelings of trepidation, hoping she’s right.

  Coach Ted is standing outside the men’s locker room on his cell phone when I race up. I look around to make sure no one else is nearby, then plant a fast kiss on him.

  Flash! Immediately, I’m in his mind, flashing through rapid thoughts after an argument he’s had with his wife.

  She’s nothing but a fat pain in my ass, always griping about how I act like a high-schooler instead of being a responsible husband and father. But how am I supposed to behave when she’s gained all that weight and grown a chin hair the size of pencil? Any guy would rather be stuck in high school than be reminded he’s middle-aged with a wife who looks like a gorilla.

  She accuses me of having an affair with that dead girl, Annika, but nothing could be further than the truth. Sure I fantasized about that girl in her little running shorts. I fantasize about lots of the girls but that doesn’t mean I would ever follow through. Poor Annika, so beautiful. Reminds me of my first girlfriend. Wish I knew who the hell did that to her. I know people suspect me because of the way I got drunk and bawled like a baby after it happened. So shoot me. I have feelings too, and if Valerie could see past what she calls my immaturity, she might actually realize I’ve been a decent husband to her. I love her and have never left her, even with that damn long black hair poking out from her second chin no matter how many times she plucks it! Isn’t that saying a lot?

  I see his wife’s face—definitely gorilla-like—rearing up as a clear image in my mind. She looks familiar, and it hits me that she’s the woman who was arguing with Coach Ted at the Westchester meet the day Annika died.

  Flash, flash! In a burst of microseconds, I see Coach Ted and his wife in the early days of their marriage when they were young and happy, frolicking in the water on a Florida beach. She was chubby back then but cuter, with thick black curly hair and a big grin. Then they’re holding their newborn baby, cuddling him. Birthdays, Christmases and Little League games pass. They sit together every night around the table, talking and laughing over Valerie’s home cooking—food so good it’s enough to make him marry her all over again.

  They’re happy, for the most part. Sure, they have arguments—what couple doesn’t?—but he’s content. There are moments of restlessness, but who can blame a middle-aged man who used to be a high school stud, a man whose life has settled into a predictable routine? Overall, though, things are good.

  Then one morning he wakes up and there she is with a hairy face, grinning back at him with her nubby little teeth and triple chins. He wonders what happened to the cute woman he married. Okay, maybe he’s no prize himself. He’s gone gray over the years and grown a tire around his mid-section. But Valerie? She’s nothing close to the woman he married. Her curls are cropped short—a military buzz cut, really—and she’s gained all that weight, not to mention the excess body hair. He can’t help it; he starts checking out the fit young girls on the track team, much more than he used to. Every day he watches as they stretch in their little shorts and tank tops, their smooth tanned skin glistening in the afternoon sun, conflicted over his devotion to his wife and his fantasies of all the tight young things surrounding him.

  Including me. I see myself through his eyes, long-legged and tanned, as I jog down the track.

  Eeew! Gross!

  The kiss is just a peck, lasting a fraction of a microsecond, but I see more than I ever needed to. More than I ever wanted to, that’s for sure.

  Coach Ted blinks, gripping his cell phone with a large, sun-mottled hand frozen in place. He gapes at me with stunned, watery blue eyes.

  “Gotta go,” he mutters into the phone, and clicks off. He raises his eyebrows, a huge, perplexed question mark on his face. He’s clearly as startled by me as I am by his thoughts.

  I’m just glad to know he didn’t kill Annika. One down, twenty-nine more people to go.

  I need to think fast. “Sorry Coach. I just wanted to thank you for being a good coach to all of us. That’s why I . . . you know . . . kissed you. To thank you.”

  “Winter, I don’t know what to say. That was completely inappropriate.” A smile plays around his thin lips. Is it my imagination or did he just puff his chest out a bit? Sick! He’s taking it as an ego stroke.

  “I meant
to kiss you on the cheek but missed,” I say. “Sorry. Just wanted to say you’re a good coach. Bye!” I rush off, not wanting to stick around a moment longer.

  Miranda is waiting for me in the parking lot. I hop into her Beemer, breathless.

  “I kissed him. Ugh, it was so gross!” I shudder. “But he didn’t kill Annika.”

  Miranda’s eyes glimmer. “It’s so cool you can do this. A lot of people are whispering about Coach Ted, suspecting him, but we’re the only ones who know the truth.”

  “Not really.” I sigh. “We still don’t know who did it.”

  “Yeah, but we’re getting closer.” Miranda grins, looking excited.

  “If you say so,” I reply doubtfully. “I’m going to have to kiss a lot of people.”

  “Well, we’d better get on it. We don’t have a lot of time to waste. There’s a killer loose out there.”

  I’m quiet, ruminating about what I’m up against.

  Miranda leans back, twirling her hair. “So what was on Coach Ted’s mind? I’ve always wondered what’s up with that old codger.”

  “He’s married to an ugly woman but he loves her.”

  Miranda raises her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

  “He misses his youth.”

  Miranda looks disappointed. “I could’ve told you that. What else? Anything weird or shocking?”

  “Well, he did fantasize about Annika. He fantasizes about all of us. He’s always looking at our bodies.”

  We stare at each other for a long moment. Then Miranda squeals, covering her mouth. “Eeeeewwww! Gross!” We shake our heads at the thought. It’s too disgusting for words.

  “I’m going to wear big sweats from now on so he can’t see my body,” says Miranda.

  “You already do. You’re pregnant, remember?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll wear bigger ones. Double layers, maybe. Even if it’s a hundred degrees out.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  The idea of the two of us sitting on the field in huge sweatpants while Coach Ted looks on in perplexed, disappointed confusion is enough to send us into a fit of giggles. We laugh until our sides hurt. It feels good.

  We haven’t laughed together like this since I first began trying out my power.

  ***

  Driving home with Miranda, we spot Ben Reinhart, the weird long jumper from track who has pierced lips, greasy hair, and four metal bars through his ears. He’s walking down a side street a few blocks from the school.

  “Hey, there’s someone from our team you can kiss,” says Miranda. “He sorta looks like a killer, don’t you think?”

  “Miranda,” I say, rolling my eyes, “Don’t be so judgmental.”

  “Come on. Let’s check him off our list.” She turns the wheel and pulls the car up next to Ben.

  I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and take a big breath. If I’m going to find Annika’s murderer, I need to push through my reservations and get this kissing stuff over and done with.

  For a minute, Jason’s face pops up in my mind . . . but then Annika’s dark eyes are there too, shimmering with sadness, begging me for justice.

  I push Jason away with all my might.

  “Hey, Ben,” I call out. “I need to tell you something.”

  He assesses me suspiciously. We’ve never said two words to each other, and now here I am hanging out of Miranda’s red BMW, smiling at him.

  “What about?” he asks. He shifts uneasily from one foot to the other.

  “About Annika. You know, the girl from our track team,” I say quickly, off the top of my head. “It’s important, but I can’t say it too loud.”

  He ambles over to my window.

  “Well, Annika . . . ” I say, my voice low. I look around. “Shh, it’s a secret.” He leans closer to the window to hear me, and I abruptly kiss him on the lips.

  His thoughts are surprisingly mild, all about longing to fit in and be liked. He’s way more insecure than he acts on the outside, even with all of his piercings. He studies the popular guys on the track team then goes home and acts out their behavior in front of the mirror, mimicking being cool.

  He’s never been kissed by a girl before. He’s tried a few times, but it hasn’t worked out. Annika flashes through his mind. She was nice to him, and he was grateful to her for that. He’s sad she was killed. Who would hurt someone like her? She was the only one who recognized him as a person. All of the other girls always ignore him, including me. Now I’ve just kissed him and he thinks it’s some sort of trick or joke to embarrass him. Dark humiliation floods through his thoughts.

  He’s pissed.

  The peck lasts just a spit second, but I’m singed by his anger at me. I have to think quickly. I want to spare his feelings but also not lead him on.

  “Annika always wanted to do that,” I say in a rush. “She liked you. I’m just passing on the message for my friend.” I figure a white lie won’t hurt in my quest to find the truth. Plus I don’t want Ben to think we’re playing a cruel trick on him.

  His dark, bewildered frown lifts a bit. “Really?”

  “Really,” I say, nodding. “We all miss her. I’m trying to let people know how she felt about them.”

  “That’s cool,” Ben replies. “Okay, thanks.”

  We drive off.

  Miranda and I ride in silence. We’re both solemn.

  “Will I go to hell for that?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Nah. We’re trying to help Annika. We gotta do what we gotta do. But you should’ve seen his face when you first kissed him. He looked murderous.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not him.”

  “For a minute, I thought he could be the killer,” she says. “He looked like he was about to snap.” She takes a deep breath. “Wow, I can see how this power thing might be a little tricky. There’s so much weird baggage tied to a kiss. It’s just a kiss, for Christ’s sake, but people read way more into it. I guess it’s not so simple.”

  She’s right, of course. A kiss is never just a kiss.

  ***

  The next day after school, Miranda spots Kirby Cahill’s best friend, another cocky jockass named Damen, standing in front of the vending machine.

  “Look,” she says, nudging me. “No one’s around.”

  Damen Ratliff has always made me nervous. I watch as he slams the machine with his palm, swearing at it. He grabs the machine, shaking it until four candy bars jiggle loose. He begins unwrapping them and shoving them into his mouth, washing them down with a super-sized bottle of soda.

  People say he has a dark side, probably having to do with the Grim Reaper tattoo on his bicep and rumors that he puts Roofies in girls’ drinks. The last person I want to kiss on the track team, besides Kirby Cahill, is Damen Ratliff.

  “This sucks,” I say.

  “Go on,” says Miranda, nudging me. “Get it over with.”

  “Aw, crap.”

  Damen looks like the kind of guy who’d hit me with a closed fist for trying something like this.

  “Maybe it’s him and we can be done. Go on. I’ll wait for you,” urges Miranda.

  I take a deep breath and approach Damen, fishing around in my jeans pocket. “Hey, do you have some quarters I can borrow? Those candy bars look good.” My voice quavers a tad nervously, sounding more high-pitched than usual. I must sound like an idiot.

  Damen turns and assesses me in an arrogant way. He shakes his head in a slow, deliberate way then takes a long gulp of his Coke, literally looking down his nose at me as he drinks.

  I fake a light-hearted laugh and say flirtatiously, “How ‘bout for a kiss?”

  Then I just go ahead and plant one on him.

  Flash, flash, flash! It all happens so fast now, quicker than a blink.

  His thoughts take me all the way back to his childhood when he was in a rodeo training school in Wyoming before moving out to California. He liked the cowboy lifestyle better than this stuck-up beach community but people don’t know anything about this, especially with
his surf racks and board shorts. If they saw him in his tight Wranglers, specifically how they shrink his “package” down to nothing, he would be run out of town. Cowboys are made fun of in beach communities like this. He became a surfer because it’s the thing to do here but it’s not really him. In his heart he misses ranching and riding horses. If his old man hadn’t left his mother, he would still be back in Wyoming, ripping his britches on broncos and rubbing Skoal with his friends. But things fell apart and now here he is.

  He takes me, in rapid flashes, to his after-school job at a manure company where he sometimes wears his Stetson in secret, and how he got the Grim Reaper tattoo to represent his father . . . the father who’s dead to him in spirit for abandoning him. The pain of the tattoo needle had almost felt good, like he was punishing both himself and his father for their broken relationship. Then his memories flash swiftly to the track team, taking me to different people, including Annika.

  Annika was just some chick whose pants Kirby was trying to get down. Damen didn’t see the big appeal, especially when Kirby had a chick like Darcy. Darcy . . . now that’s a female. She has those huge round tits and fluffy hair, just waiting to be appreciated. But a guy like Kirby is never happy with what he’s got. That’s why Damen couldn’t understand Kirby’s fixation on a scrawny little thing like Annika when he already had a hot girl like Darcy. Bummer the Swedish chick was killed, but Damen didn’t know her that well anyway.

  His thoughts, a swift flash, end with the kiss.

  Wow, it’s different every time. Sometimes I see thoughts, other times it’s feelings or memories.

  Damen and I stare at each other. His eyes are cold and disgusted. His lip curls as he looks at me. “What’s up with that?”

  “Uh, sorry. Just in a flirty mood I guess.”

  He looks me up and down dismissively. “You’re not my type.”

  What, my boobs aren’t the size of tractor tires?

  “I was just having fun,” I say. “My friend dared me.” I gesture toward Miranda who is slinking behind the building. She peers around the corner with a look of suppressed laughter on her face.