by Amy Cross
“He killed eighteen people,” I point out.
“Exactly,” he replies, quickly latching onto my words. “He killed them. Not you.”
“Most people don't care about that,” I mutter, looking down at my hands. “Pretty much everyone in town hates us now.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“It wasn't just your brother, though,” he points out. “Malcolm didn't act alone. Jonathan Wilder also -”
“That doesn't make it any better,” I reply, interrupting him. “Jonathan Wilder's family moved away after it happened. Mine didn't, we're still here. And before you say anything else, I totally get why they hate us. I'd hate us too.”
We sit in silence for a moment. I want to get the hell out of here, but I know he'd only force me to stay.
“So are you going to tell me about that cut on your lip,” he continues finally, “or do I have to ask?”
“It's nothing.”
“Was it an accident?”
I nod.
“Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that?”
I take a deep breath, before turning and meeting his gaze. “It was an accident.”
He pauses. “Okay,” he mutters, making another note. “And are you missing a tooth there?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Does your family have insurance that might cover it?”
“I don't know.”
“You should find out.”
“I should.”
He sighs.
“I really don't have anything to say,” I continue. “Nothing's changed since last time, and I'm just getting on without too much trouble. I'm keeping my head down as much as possible.”
“Is that right?”
I nod again. “Not everything has to be a big drama. People hate my family, I get that. I understand why, and I don't blame them at all.”
“Do you still have the same plan you told me about before?”
I nod.
“Any luck getting a job to pay for it?”
“Not yet,” I reply, “but I have an aunt in Chicago and I was thinking maybe I can live in her spare room next year once my cousin goes to college. I just want to get away and start somewhere new, somewhere the Bromley name isn't just constantly linked with death and pain and misery.”
“I think that'd be extremely healthy,” he tells me. “You've had to grow up very fast, Bonnie.”
“It's okay, I -”
Before I can finish, he squeezes my knee again. I flinch, but I don't pull away. I knew this was coming. Every time I come to see him, he makes these little moves, like he's edging closer to being a full-on pervert. I feel like one day I'm going to end up slapping him and running out of here, but for now I hope he just holds back. The last thing I need is confrontation.
“You're very mature for your age,” he tells me, eying me with a hint of anticipation in his eyes.
I swallow hard. I know he's waiting for me to look at him, but I simply stare at my hands. Every time I have one of these meetings in his office, I feel as if he's holding back some disgusting urge.
“You've had to put up with a lot,” he continues, squeezing my leg yet again. “You must have been hardened by your experiences, but there's no need to be wary of people who want to protect you. I know your mother is somewhat unhelpful. Believe me, I've seen her down at the store, buying wine by the boxful. Everyone knows she's turned to drink. It's a tough life, Bonnie, but you can always come to me. You understand that, right? I'm on your side.”
I nod. Damn it, my skin is crawling and I want to get out of here. My legs are doing that tingling thing again, where it's almost like they're not really there.
“Here's the thing,” he continues, moving his hand further along my leg. “I think I understand you, Bonnie. I think I know how you feel.”
“I don't know if you do,” I whisper through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I do. Definitely. When I look into your eyes, Bonnie, do you know what I see?”
I shake my head.
“I see vulnerability. I see someone who's desperate to be understood, to be helped, to be looked after.” He pauses, with his hand still resting on my leg. Another inch or two along, and I'm going to have to slap him. “You're half child and half adult. That makes you very unusual, very special and wonderful.”
Feeling a burst of nausea in my belly, I feel as if I might actually throw up.
“And Bonnie,” he continues, leaning closer, “you have to -”
Suddenly the door bursts open. I get to my feet and step back, so that he can't touch me again, and then I turn and see that the new girl at school, Hannah, has blundered into the room. I swear, she can be pretty irritating sometimes but right now I've never been so happy to see someone.
“Oh,” she stammers, “I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here. I thought the school counselor wasn't in today.”
“It's cool,” I tell her, before turning to Mr. Dyson. “I was about to leave anyway.”
“I can go,” Hannah continues, turning to leave.
“No!” I blurt out, grabbing her arm in panic at the thought that she might leave me here alone with this creep again. “Really, I'm out of here.”
“Bonnie,” Mr. Dyson says, getting to his feet, “maybe -”
“I really need to get to class,” I tell him, trying not to let fear completely flood my chest. “I'm already behind, and if I don't catch up soon I'm going to get in trouble.” I wait, but he doesn't seem convinced yet. “Please let me go to class,” I continue. “Please.”
He stares at me for a moment. “Okay,” he says finally, heading over to his desk. “That sounds like a very conscientious move on your part, Bonnie. I'm glad to hear that you're taking your education so seriously, even if I still think that perhaps you're pushing yourself too hard.” He checks his calendar. “I'd like to schedule another session for this time next week.”
“I'm pretty busy,” I tell him, backing toward the door. Glancing at Hannah, I can see that she knows something is wrong.
“I'm sure you are,” Mr. Dyson continues, “but it's important that I check in with you regularly.”
“I'm fine,” I continue, stepping out into the corridor. “If I was going to have some kind of breakdown, wouldn't it have happened by now? I mean, I think I'm doing pretty well. I could get a little more sleep, that'd be good, but otherwise I'm getting along just fine.”
“But tonight -”
“I'll be fine tonight,” I tell him firmly, desperate to get the hell out of here. “Honestly. I've known for months that it was coming. It's not like it just suddenly hit me.”
He pauses for a moment. “Then I guess I'll see you next week,” he says finally, although it's clear that he's more than a little irritated by Hannah's intrusion as he turns to her. “And what can I do for you?”
“Oh, same as last time,” she replies, as I pull the door shut to give them some privacy. “Almost everyone seems to be ignoring me. I'm usually so good at making friends!”
Feeling a rush of relief, I take a step back. I have no idea quite how far that pervert would have gone if we hadn't been interrupted, but my heart is racing and I feel certain that he had a few ideas in mind. I don't know Hannah at all, but I hope she can handle herself if he tries something similar on her. At the same time, it's not my problem. I've got too much to deal with right now, without trying to get sketchy school counselors into trouble.
“You okay?” a voice asks suddenly.
Turning, I see Molly making her way along the corridor.
“Yeah, I -”
“Another session with the creep, huh?”
I nod.
“Don't take it personally,” she continues as we start making our way toward the doors at the far end. “You're not the only one who feels, like, super uncomfortable being near him. Personally, I've always thought that if he ever tries anything on me, I'll bite him. Like, properly chow down on his forearm, something like that. The dude's got it coming. Sometimes, I ac
tually feel like he's a -”
“Hey,” I reply, stopping suddenly and grabbing her shoulder, “what are you doing tonight?”
“Um...”
“Do you want to hang out?” I wait for her to reply, but I can already tell that she's reluctant. “Please?” I add, trying not to sound too desperate. “Do you want to chill and talk about crap and just not have to think about the world? For one night?”
“I'd love to, but...” She glances both ways along the empty corridor.
“What's wrong?” I ask. She's been a little evasive lately, as if she's up to something at night that she won't or can't share with me. “Ashamed to be seen with me?”
“You know it's not that,” she replies. “I'm not one of those total bitches. I just... I have plans tonight, and I can't really break them, but how about tomorrow? You can come over to my place, we can hang out, you can even sleep over. It's been too long since we just sat around chatting and listening to music, all that stuff. How about it? Please don't think I'm a total asshole for being busy tonight!”
“Sure,” I reply. Hearing footsteps nearby, I see two other girls making their way past, and they both cast dirty looks at me. Debbie is trailing along behind them, but she doesn't even look this way. She's ignored me ever since the shooting, and I can't say I blame her but... She and I used to be such good friends.
“Don't worry about them,” Molly says with a smile. “Stuck-up assholes. Come on, we're gonna be late for class.”
“Sure,” I mutter, although I hang back when she turns and heads toward the door. “I've got a few things to do first. I'll catch up.”
“Don't take too long,” she replies, glancing back at me. “And don't worry. Tomorrow night we're gonna have so much fun!”
Once she's gone, I'm left standing alone in the corridor.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “Tomorrow night's not a problem. It's tonight I'm worried about.”
Chapter Four
“Hey! There she is!”
I haven't even made it all the way into the bathroom before I hear the over-excited squeal of Lucinda Jones and her friends.
“Hey Bonnie,” Lucinda continues, hurrying over to me. “Got any plans for tonight? I'm sure it's gonna be electric!”
“Hilarious,” I mutter, pushing past her as I head to the nearest stall.
“Seriously,” she adds, following me as her friends titter by the mirror, “I guess it's gonna be kinda weird for you, huh? Yeah, I sure wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now, but I guess you'll just have to get through it as best you can. I hope you've got somewhere nice to sit. Like, maybe, a comfortable chair. With a cushion. And straps.”
Stepping into the stall, I try to push the door shut, only for her to force it back open. She flashes her usual sickly sweet smile at me, but there's a hint of determination behind her eyes. She's no better than Adam and his friends, and she's quite clearly loving every second of this.
“Do you want my advice?” she asks.
“No,” I mutter darkly.
“Just close your eyes, say a little prayer, and hope it's over fast.” She grins. “In a flash!”
“They're not electrocuting him,” I point out, once again trying and failing to push the door shut.
She frowns. “I thought it was tonight...”
“They use drugs,” I continue. “They pump drugs into him. There's no electric chair! Now do you mind if I shut this damn thing, or do you want to watch me pee?”
“No chair?” She seems genuinely confused. “But my brother said -”
“Maybe your brother's an ignorant asshole,” I reply, interrupting her. “I guess that kind of thing runs in families.” I wait for her to leave me alone, and finally I can't help sighing. “For your information,” I continue, “they don't use the chair in this state, they use a cocktail of drugs, primarily sodium thiopental and -”
“Okay,” she says, holding her hands up in mock surrender, “I don't need to, like, know all the gross details. Whatever they use, it's pretty goddamn disgusting. Must be pretty embarrassing, too, having someone in your family who's gonna go out like that. The ultimate black sheep in the family. Are you gonna go watch?”
“Am I going to stand in a little room and watch through a window as my brother is executed?” I ask, before sighing again. “No. No, for some reason, that doesn't really appeal.”
“Are you gonna visit him first?”
I flinch at that question. “No.”
“Why not?”
“It's complicated.”
“So he's gonna be all alone?” she continues. “That seems kinda rough. Then again, it's hard to feel sorry for him. I mean, after what he did to all those people.”
“Do you mind if I pee now?” I ask, trying once again to push the door shut, only to find that she's still holding it open. I try a couple more times, with increasing force, but she's stronger than she looks.
“You can always come and hang with us,” she says. “I hate to think of you stuck at home with your drunk-ass mother, and there's a party at Claire's place. We wouldn't invite you most times but I guess tonight we can be charitable. So long as you promise not to be a total dork, anyway. I mean, maybe Josh will be there, and I know you too broke up a while back. I guess that'll be super-awkward.”
“The whole thing sounds lovely,” I reply, “but I'd rather eat mud and die.” With that, I slam the door shut so hard and so fast, she actually lets out a gasp of shock.
“You almost hit my nose!” she shouts from the other side.
“Oh no,” I mutter. “Maybe you'd have needed to get it fixed. Again.”
I lean back against the wall and listen as they head out of the bathroom, and finally I realize that I'm alone. All I want to do is scream, but I know that won't make the day pass any quicker. Checking my watch, I see that it's exactly 2pm, which means I only have to wait another ten hours and then this part of the nightmare will be over. Taking a deep breath, I try to convince myself that somehow everything will be different tomorrow, that I can finally start getting on with my life. At the same time, I can't help thinking about my brother, and wondering what he's going through right now. Is he waiting for a visit? Does he think Mom and I will go see him before it all ends? No matter what he did, he's still my brother, and I remember what he was like before all this madness started. It's probably wrong of me, and I would never admit this to anyone, but I honestly don't hate him, not completely.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper, with tears in my eyes. “Not much longer now.”
***
Making my way down the steps at the front of school, with hundreds of other students hurrying all around me, I can't help feeling that this day has been grinding along way too slowly. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that time has been running at half-speed, as if the universe is determined to make me endure every last moment of discomfort. I spot Josh over by the steps, hurrying away with Melinda Williams trailing after him. Josh and I used to be so close, but ever since the shooting he's been completely ignoring me. I guess even he doesn't want to be associated with my family.
As someone bumps into me and laughs, I step aside to let the crowd pass. After a moment, I turn and see Hannah sitting on a nearby wall, watching me with a smile.
“You look how I feel,” she says. “Well, not exactly, but close enough. You look like you'd rather be anywhere apart from here. A US high school, surrounded by squealing kids, is not exactly my idea of heaven.”
“It's fine,” I mutter.
“So can I ask you something?” she continues. “That counselor guy, is he a total pervert with everyone, or was I just unlucky today? 'Cause I got some major-league weird vibes in his office.”
“I think he's like it with everyone.”
“Huh.” She pauses. “Well, I guess in the circumstances...”
“Gotta go,” I reply, stepping past her and heading toward the road now that the majority of the crowd has already hurried away. I hate crowd, I hated them before the shooting and I
hate them especially now. I just want to get away from here and be alone. After just a few steps, however, I realize that Hannah is following me. I try to ignore her, hoping she'll get the message, but when I start making my way down another set of steps I can tell that she's stuck to me like a goddamn leech.
“This town is weird,” she says finally, as if she's trying to restart the conversation.
“Major revelation,” I mutter.
“But, like, majorly weird, It has the strangest energy of any place I've ever been. It's like the whole town is constantly holding its breath.” She keeps up with me, and it's clear that she's trying to make friends. Boy, did she pick the wrong day for that. “I know what happened here,” she adds finally. “It was before I moved to the area, but I know about the shooting and I also know that it was your brother who was involved. I can't even begin to imagine what that's like for you.”
“Then don't try,” I reply, intentionally being a little prickly. After all, I just want to be alone. “Trust me, it's not worth knowing.”
“I almost never see you talking to anyone,” she continues.
“I'm lucky like that,” I say darkly. “Usually.”
“But since I'm new in town, I was hoping maybe you'd want to hang out some time. I don't know, we could grab a soda, you could show me the -”
“Are you serious?” I snap, stopping and turning to her.
Wide-eyed with shock, she seems lost for words.
“Why the hell would you want to hang out with me?” I ask. “For some kind of sick joke? Are you like those people on the internet who idolize killers and think they're cool? Let me guess, you've got some kind of weird crush on my brother and you think hanging out with me is somehow edgy. You wouldn't be the first. Believe me, there are people from the internet who idolize him and want to marry him.”
“I...” She pauses. “No, I mean... It's not like that...” Another pause, and she seems a little tragic now. “I just thought we could maybe be friends.”
“I don't want to hang out with you,” I continue, unable to hold my frustration back any longer. “I'm sure you're very nice, and I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends once you've been here for a while, but I am not going to be one of them, okay? And if that makes me a major league bitch, then fine, that's just how it's going to have to be. I'm not interested in meeting new people, and I sure as hell don't need to be rehabilitated back into society.” Taking a step back, I feel as if I want to grab her by the throat and knock some sense into her. At the same time, I know I'm overreacting massively. “Just leave me alone,” I stammer, turning and hurrying away.
