PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “Hey Winter, looking hot,” he says, licking his lips. His friends nudge him.

  “So do you, Kirby. Save me a dance?” I say.

  Kirby waggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way. “Yeah, I’ll save you a dance. And something else.” He grabs his crotch.

  His friends laugh. Instead of saying something rude back or telling him to go to hell like I normally would, I force myself to smile.

  “Good. I’ll be waiting for you.” I walk away as sexily as I can muster in four-inch heels. I throw a last, come-hither smile over my shoulder at him. He watches me like a lion watches prey.

  It’s all I can do not to gag.

  In the bathroom, Miranda is breathless with excitement. “You were perfect.” She checks the bathroom stalls for feet. “You reeled him in, girl. You should’ve seen his face.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. I hate play-acting this way.

  “Was Darcy nearby?” I ask, biting my nail.

  Miranda shakes her head. “Don’t think about her. She’ll get in your way if you let her. Just focus on what needs to be done. Remember Annika, eff Darcy. That should be your motto.”

  I’m washing my hands when the door bangs open. Darcy, speak of the devil, struts in with her cheerleader friends. She approaches me with a sneer.

  “I saw you talking to Kirby. You know, my boyfriend,” she says, glaring out of overly made-up rabbit eyes. I don’t know why everyone thinks she’s pretty. I stare down at her, realizing that with my heels I’m about foot taller. Suddenly, I’m not as afraid anymore.

  “So what? I just said hi. We’re both on the track team, you know.” I have a sarcastic edge to my voice that surprises me. Miranda’s face smiles gleefully in the background.

  Darcy narrows her eyes. Her frosted pink lips clench in a thin line. “Stay away from him, slut.” Her friends giggle.

  “Why do you think I’m a slut, Darcy?” I ask, pretending a calmness I don’t feel. Anger rises in my throat. “From what I hear, you’re the one Kirby’s porking, not me.”

  Her face darkens with rage. She clenches her fist, but she’s not so menacing with her whole body quivering like that. She looks like a frilly munchkin. I almost laugh.

  “You go around kissing everyone you can get your hands on,” she snaps. “Everyone’s been talking about what a whore you are. No one knows what Jason Brackmeyer sees in you.”

  I resist the urge to slap her. My heart is racing, my hands clammy. So everyone has been talking. And how dare she bring up Jason?

  Without knowing what I’m doing or why, I throw my head back and laugh. Darcy and the cheerleaders stare at me. Miranda, too.

  “You said it,” I say, chortling. “Yeah, I’m the kissing slut of the school. I just love kissing. It’s all I do, it’s my favorite pastime. I just kiss, kiss, kiss whoever I can get my hands on. And I even kiss girls!” Impulsively, I grab Darcy’s sprayed troll head and plant a slobbery kiss on her pink reptilian lips.

  Flash! I feel her fear. She’s afraid of me because she views me as a threatening rival. She’s caught Kirby staring at me. He stares at everyone, but she hates me because I’m tall and thin and am dating the cutest guy in school. Darcy used to have the best guy but now I do, and everyone knows it.

  She won’t relinquish her status to anyone, especially a nothing like me. Especially after she spent her college fund on breast implants, which nobody knows about, not even her parents. She plans on being a stripper after high school. Kirby says dancers make good money. The thought of it turns him on, which pleases her. So what if her new boobs are uneven, one bigger than the other? Kirby would recognize this if he stopped pawing her titties long enough to really look at them. But hell, it doesn’t matter. They were a good investment. No one at school has a sexier bod now, and maybe she can even pay for college with this stripping thing. She might as well, with these rocking titties that Kirby can’t keep his hands off of.

  Darcy shoves me away. “Get off me, you fucking psycho slut!” She wipes her mouth. “What are you, a lesbo?”

  I smile calmly. “Sure, I’m a lesbo and I want you, Darcy. I love your fake boobs that you spent your college fund on. Your poor parents. Don’t you think they should know you’re going to strip your way through college with a pair of lopsided implants?”

  Darcy’s jaw drops open. A deep flush rises through the lacy bodice of her dress and spreads upward to her neck and face. It’s like watching a cartoon.

  Her friends stare at her. “Did you get a boob job?” one of them asks. Another reaches out to poke her chest. Darcy bats her hand away.

  “Why didn’t you tell us? Are you really a stripper?”

  Darcy turns and runs out the door. Her friends cover their hands with their mouths, snickering.

  “Oh my God!” says one.

  “I knew they were fake,” another remarks.

  “Yeah,” says another. “We all knew she’d gained weight. Now we know where.”

  Their snide laughter follows them out the door.

  “Wow,” Miranda says. “With friends like those . . . ” She stares at me. “What else did you see when you kissed her?”

  “That she’s scared of me. She’s also jealous because I have Jason.”

  “Wow,” says Miranda.

  I shrug. “I’m not intimidated by her anymore. She’s a cowardly little troll.”

  Miranda grins, pulling out her lip gloss. “I’d like to see her try to kick your ass. You’re like six feet tall in those shoes.”

  “I doubt she’ll be coming anywhere near me now. Did you see how she looked at me after I kissed her?” I laugh. “She thinks I want her.”

  Miranda giggles. It’s infectious. Soon, we’re both laughing, holding our sides. A girl comes in and glances at us curiously before heading into the stall.

  “We’d better get back out there,” Miranda says. “You’ve got work to do.”

  We exit, trying to suppress our giggles. The thought of Darcy’s flushed face after I kissed her, with its O-shaped frosted pink mouth and bulging eyes, has made my night. I can’t wait to tell Jason. He despises Darcy as much as I do.

  A slow song is playing. I look around for Jason and spot him on the dance floor.

  His arms are draped around Darcy.

  He’s slow-dancing with her!

  My heart drops and throat constricts. He said he was going to distract Darcy. But now, on the dance floor? During a slow song?

  Darcy catches my eye. A smug smirk spreads over her face. She wraps her arms more tightly around Jason.

  Blood pounds behind my eyes. Now I get it. She asked him to dance, and he said yes. Of course that’s what happened. Hot spurts of jealousy zip through my mind like crimson fingers. I watch as Jason moves in slow circles on the dance floor, a duty-bound expression on his face as Darcy hangs on to him. She gazes up at him with simpering, faux-devoted eyes, pressing her chest into him. She gives me a sly grin, and I want to rip her shellacked head off. She thinks she’s both traded up and teaching me a lesson.

  Jason catches my eye and gives a half-shrug as if to say, “What could I do? It’s part of our plan, right?”

  No, it’s not part of the plan. Not like this, anyway.

  I make my way to the dance floor, determined to cut in. How dare that bubble-headed bitch try to steal my boyfriend! I’ll poke a heel through her eye.

  Before I get to Jason, Kirby grabs my arm. “You promised me a dance.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Darcy staring at us.

  “Kirby!” she calls out.

  Kirby holds out his hand to me. Jason meets my eyes and nods, giving his approval. Here’s my opportunity. I give Kirby my hand and follow him to an open spot on the dance floor. Darcy yanks away from Jason and rushes in our direction but stops short when Kirby pulls me close, pressing his body against mine. Her mouth falls open and an enraged furrow appears between her high-plucked brows. Kirby’s smug grin says, “Deal with it, babe.”

  Darcy slinks away. Jason has left the
dance floor, nowhere to be seen.

  Kirby’s arms are like a straitjacket around me. His back is strong but feels different than Jason’s. It’s as if Kirby is all coiled spring inside, taut and ready to pounce. He gives me the shivers.

  We dance for a bit, then he pulls back to look at me. In his eyes I see sex. He grins, his teeth shiny, large, and white. Obviously capped. He looks like a fake Ken doll with his Burberry scarf draped around his neck, gelled black hair, and cocky half-grin. He leans close and I catch a whiff of heavy cologne. His breath is musty with stale beer. I cringe.

  “You look so hot tonight,” he says. “Totally fuckable.”

  Nice. A real class act. So different from Jason.

  “I like to kiss before I . . . you know. Fuck,” I reply. The words sound strained, hollow, and sourness fills my stomach. I fight back waves of disgust. I need to play the part if I’m ever going to get close enough to kiss Kirby, but it gives me the heebies.

  He grins. “Wow, there’s a wildcat in you. I didn’t know you had this side. You always seem so prima donna at track. But I know you’ve been getting around lately.” He nudges me suggestively. “I hear you’ve been macking everyone in sight. Quite a little slut, eh? Must be spreading your legs a lot.”

  I recoil, my stomach lurching. He’s so gross, so disgusting in every way. A true woman-hater. I have to somehow find the strength to go through with this, get it over with.

  “Kiss me,” I force myself to say. “Find out what it’s all about.” I grab his neck and pull his mouth to mine, my skin crawling. He kisses me back, forcing his tongue in my mouth, hard.

  I’m going to drop a Roofie in her soda. She’ll be easier to handle that way. I hate stuck-up bitches like her. I’ll show her who’s king of the castle. She thinks she can control me because she’s looking good tonight, but I’m going to fuck with her. Literally in every hole. She’s asking for it. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I’m the one in control here. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  I yank back, interrupting his train of thought. My body is trembling. What I saw in his mind was pure malevolence. He could very well be capable of killing Annika, with such dark thoughts slithering through his brain. I’m shivering, cold throughout. Panic infuses my heart, making it pound so hard I’m afraid Kirby will see it pulsing through my neck. I’m tempted to run off the floor, to run out the door and as far away as I can from this barbaric Neanderthal. But I can’t. Annika’s memory haunts me. I force myself to stay, allowing Kirby to pull me close again.

  Over Kirby’s shoulder I scan the crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jason. If only I could see his face, knowing he was nearby and looking out for me. It would give me strength. But he’s nowhere to be seen. I spot Miranda at the drink table on the on the other side of the room, the feather in her hair bobbing. She doesn’t see me. Why isn’t she watching? She said she would have my back! I try to catch her attention. Just a look from her that says, “Don’t worry, I’m here,” would be enough.

  Kirby’s hot breath is making the skin on my neck crawl. He grins at me, his eyes roving up and down my body.

  “Nice,” he says.

  I fidget with the top of my dress and pull it up, feeling exposed. I need to ask him about Annika, to get him thinking about her, so I can kiss him again. I didn’t see her in his first set of thoughts, and that troubles me. What if he had nothing to do with her death, and yet here I am playing with fire with this psycho? I make a mental note not to drink anything he gives me.

  Kirby’s hands begin to creep up under my dress. I pull out of his grasp. He smirks.

  “Are you wearing underwear?” he asks. “I bet you’re wet.”

  Someone shrieks behind me, and then Darcy is in my face. She’s screaming and trying to pull me away from Kirby. She claws at me, screaming, “You fucking slut! You bitch! Stay away from my boyfriend!” She throws a soda in my face.

  I stagger off the dance floor, my eyes burning. Laughter from other students echoes behind me. Through the blur of my stinging eyes, I see Darcy coming at me again. Someone intercepts her, holding her back. I look up to see Coach Ted Dannerson and a large woman with swinging chins covered in black hair. His wife. She must be one of the chaperones.

  “What’s going on here, young ladies?” Mrs. Dannerson says in a deep, booming voice as she holds a writhing Darcy. Her thick face flaps jiggle like tan Jell-O.

  Darcy is sniveling now, acting like the victim. “She started it,” she says in a whining, falsetto, glaring at me behind the large woman’s back with glinty-eyed hatred.

  “Get over to the corner, Miss Darcy Latimer. I’ll have a word with you. If you don’t stop this, you’re outta the dance for good, homecoming queen or not! You hear?” The woman’s imposing bear-face shuts Darcy up. “Ted, take this other one here. What’s your name, young lady?” She points at me. I’m rubbing my burning eyes and trying not to cry.

  “Winter Reynolds,” Coach Ted says. “She’s one of my track students. I’ll handle her.” He ushers me off the dance floor.

  People murmur around me, whispers and gossip filling the air. I look up to see condemning, unkind faces surrounding the dance floor—my peers. I can see it in their eyes—I am a pariah, the girl who tried to steal the homecoming queen’s boyfriend. A kissing slut. Coach Ted holds my elbow as he steers me toward the bathroom.

  Where’s Jason? Where’s Miranda? I suddenly feel very alone.

  “Don’t worry about what happened back there,” says Coach Ted. “I saw the whole thing. You’ve got a right to dance with whoever you want. Flirting isn’t illegal.”

  I’m surprised by his kindness. Maybe he’s not so bad after all. It’s nice to have someone on my side.

  “Was that your wife back there?” I ask. I’ve already met her in his mind, but I can’t let him know that, of course.

  He nods, looking embarrassed. “She likes to chaperone these things. More to keep me in line than anything, I think. She’s the jealous type.”

  “You should tell her what you just told me. That flirting isn’t illegal,” I say.

  He looks surprised. “Who said I flirt?”

  Suddenly Miranda is here. “I’ve got her.” She grabs me and steers me away from Coach Ted and toward the bathroom. Jason is right behind her, his face a mask of worry and concern.

  “Meet us out here,” Miranda says, and Jason nods. In the bathroom, she locks the door behind us. I lean on her and begin to cry. She wipes my face with a paper towel.

  “Where were you?” I ask through my tears.

  “It’s okay,” she says, patting my back. “Be strong. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. Victor and I were on the other side of the room getting drinks when I heard the commotion.” She’s wearing her Shar-pei face.

  “I’m not up to this,” I say, sobbing.

  “Oh, that stupid Darcy. Don’t let her get to you. She’s just a jealous wench. You showed her who’s boss, remember?”

  “It’s not about Darcy. It’s everything else. You should have seen what was in Kirby’s mind. It was so awful.”

  “Did he kill Annika?” she asks in a horrified tone, her eyes round.

  “I didn’t see that. But I saw him hurting me.”

  “You?” Her face is etched with worry and fear.

  “Yes. He’s a woman-hater, and he’s not above raping a girl.”

  “But he didn’t kill Annika?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, wiping my nose. “But I don’t know for sure. I wasn’t able to finish our kiss. All I know is, he’s a sick creep.”

  Miranda grabs me and stares into my face. “Winter,” she says commandingly. “You need to be strong. Strong, do you hear me? Okay, so you saw Kirby’s sick thoughts! Shrug it off and keep going. We need to find out if he killed Annika. You can’t let this kind of stuff stop you. You’re going to need to grow a thick shell if you’re ever going to live with this power. You might as well start learning to deal with it now.”

  “I know,” I
say, gulping back tears. “But the images . . . they’re too much sometimes. It’s awful, like a nightmare. A horror show.”

  “But what about the good things? Remember when you read my mind and saw our friendship? And what about you and Jason? You told me that you saw amazing things in his thoughts.”

  I nod, remembering. “I saw in him something so pure and beautiful it’s impossible to put into words.”

  “Think about those things. It’s not all bad.”

  “You’re right.” I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. Annika’s soulful eyes fill my mind. I see her expression, pleading with me to help her. I can’t turn her away. I need to get back out there and finish the job. I mentally gather myself, grab the paper towel, and finish blotting my face. “This is for Annika. She deserves our help. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to die.”

  Then, something crosses my mind.

  “What if . . . ” I stop. I don’t know if I should say what I’m thinking aloud. It’s too frightening to even consider.

  What if people are able to manipulate my thoughts through selective thinking?

  The possibility has crossed my mind before, especially after Jason started clearing his mind of all thoughts so he could tell me his feelings about me. How will I ever know who’s the killer if Annika doesn’t show up in people’s minds when I kiss them? In some ways, it seems like we’re back at square one. Jason is so sure that Kirby’s the murderer—but I didn’t see Annika anywhere in Kirby’s mind. I wonder if he filtered his thoughts, only focusing on the present moment which prevented me from seeing anything else. If so, who else has held back? Sometimes I can see a person’s whole past, other times I only see snippets of their mind. It depends on the person.

  “What?” Miranda is watching me.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  Miranda hands me another paper towel. I wipe my damp forehead.

  “Damn Darcy,” I say. “She ruined my chance to find out more about Kirby.”

  “That’s more like it. Damn Darcy! And no, she didn’t ruin your chance. If Kirby is the sicko you say he is, he’ll love more of this drama. It’ll probably turn him on. Now get back out there and kiss him again!”