The Cupid War

by Carter, Timothy

  “You were waiting for me?” Ryan asked, stopping right in front of her.

  “Yeah, you’re just getting out of Chemistry, right?” Susan stood up. “I figured you’d come here to drop off your books and get your lunch, like you do every day. Guess you’d like to get to your locker, huh?” She stepped aside, and Ryan began working his combination lock.

  She’d waited at his locker, Fallon thought, the way she used to do with me. And now she’s going to ask why he’s so late coming from class. And he’s going to make up some lame excuse, like he wanted to talk to the teacher or something.

  “So how come you’re so late out of class?” Susan asked. “Usually you’re pretty hungry, and you get here as soon as possible so you can get your lunch. And the Chemistry room’s just over there.”

  “I was talking to Mr. Dewitzer about something,” Ryan replied, slotting his books away on his locker’s top shelf.

  “Oh, like what?” Susan asked.

  “Oh, just some stuff.” Ryan pulled out a bag lunch and then slammed his locker closed.

  “What kind of stuff?” Susan pressed.

  “About the assignment,” Ryan said, clicking his lock back into place. “Geez, why the Spanish Inquisition? It’s not like we planned to meet up or anything.”

  “Sure we did,” Susan said. “When I left you at your homeroom this morning, I said I’d see you at your locker at lunchtime. Don’t you remember?”

  Oh man, Fallon thought. She’s sunk her claws in deep. I’ll bet she’s memorized his entire class schedule, so she can find him any time of the day. Just like she did with me.

  Fallon watched as they walked off together, and felt helpless. He wanted to warn Ryan—if he didn’t do something, Susan would drive him over the edge. Ryan looked about ready to jump off a bridge already. But what could he do?

  He followed them back out into the main hall. When Susan had been his “friend,” she’d eaten lunch with him in a small corner of his school’s front foyer. At first, they’d sat and eaten with Fallon’s friends. Then Susan had decided she didn’t like his friends, and she’d asked if they could have lunch somewhere else, alone. Fallon hadn’t wanted to, but Susan had been so damn persuasive.

  “They don’t understand me,” she’d said. “They don’t know how to listen, not like you do.”

  “But they’re my friends,” Fallon had said. “And Becky’s my girlfriend. Why don’t you at least try to … ”

  “No,” Susan had said. “Please come with me, Fallon. I don’t want to be alone. I need to talk to someone right now, someone who will listen.”

  And so Fallon had left his friends for what he’d honestly thought would be one lunch period. He and Susan sat by the auditorium doors and he listened to her latest problem. The next day, when he left his last class before lunch, Susan intercepted him on his way to his locker.

  “Wanna have lunch with me by the auditorium doors?” she’d said, ever so sweetly. And before he knew it, he was spending every lunch alone with her. His friends forgot about him.

  Ryan and Susan sat down with a group of teens by the school’s main entrance. Fallon hurried over and slipped into the wall behind them, and watched.

  There were seven in the group, including Ryan and Susan. They sat in a small circle, their lunches in front of them, talking animatedly. There were three other girls and two guys, but to Fallon’s eye there were no couples. Maybe he could do something about that later. For the moment, he wanted to keep an eye on Susan.

  “We were just talking about God,” said a long-haired brunette in a blue-collared blouse. “Any thoughts?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going all religious on us,” Ryan said.

  “We’re not talking about religion,” said a blond boy in black pants and a black shirt. “Cynthia’s doing a project for her sociology class.”

  “I want to get as many opinions as possible,” the long-haired brunette said.

  “Why don’t you talk to the Psalm Troupe?” Ryan asked with a chuckle.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious what they would say,” said a plain-looking girl in a faded blouse and worn jeans.

  “Yeah, plus they creep me out,” Cynthia added.

  “They have a new pamphlet out,” said a short-haired boy with glasses. He pulled a small leaflet from the breast pocket of his checkered shirt and read with mock seriousness. “Gary thought no one knew about his alternative lifestyle, but someone was watching! ”

  “Are they still picking on gays?” said the girl in the faded clothing.

  “As if they’ll ever stop,” said Cynthia. “Right, Peter?”

  “Wait, this gets better!” the checkered-shirt boy said, skipping to the end. “On the Last Day as he stood trembling before God, he found he could not hide … ” He paused for drama. “ … from Judgment! ”

  They laughed then, all but Susan. She shifted uncomfortably, just enough for Ryan to notice.

  “I’m sure God isn’t like that,” said a blond girl in a tie-dyed T-shirt. “I’m with Trina on this one. Universal force for good.”

  “Thanks, Lucy,” said the girl in faded clothing, offering a shy smile. She played absently with her shoulder-length hair.

  “So I’ve heard from everyone except you two,” Cynthia said, pointing at Ryan and Susan. “What’ve you got for me?”

  Before Ryan could answer, Susan picked up her lunch and stood up.

  “I … have to go,” she said, and she turned and walked away quickly.

  “Oh, man,” said Ryan.

  “Did we offend her?” asked Lucy.

  “Like that’d be hard,” muttered the blond boy in black pants.

  “Brad!” said Lucy. “That’s not nice.”

  “Maybe,” the blond boy replied. “But it’s true.”

  “I’d better go check on her,” Ryan said, rising slowly to his feet.

  “No!” Fallon jumped up and stepped in front of him. “No, you stay here if you know what’s good for you!” He automatically held up his hands to block Ryan, then remembered he was insubstantial in this world.

  “Who said that?” Trina asked, her head snapping up.

  “Who said what?” Ryan asked, stopping.

  “That’s right, stay here,” Fallon said. “Do not go with that human leech.”

  “There it is again!” said Trina. “A voice! He called Susan a leech.”

  “What?” said Fallon, turning to look at her.

  “Come on, who said that?” Trina glanced from friend to friend.

  “I didn’t,” said Peter.

  “Wasn’t me,” said Brad.

  “Trina, are you hearing things again?” Cynthia asked.

  Oh yes she is, Fallon thought. She heard me loud and clear. This could be useful.

  And Ryan stayed! He sat back down again, though he did look nervously in the direction Susan had gone. Maybe my comments actually reached him, Fallon thought. Or maybe Ryan’s just better at denying her than I was. Either way, he might just stand a chance.

  11

  Fallon remained with the group of teens for the rest of the lunch hour, but he said no more. He didn’t want to freak the girl out, not if he was going to ask for her help later.

  From what he could gather from the group, this wasn’t the first time Trina had heard voices. First she’d confided only in Cynthia, then the rest of them.

  Fallon also learned that the group didn’t much like Susan, either.

  “Don’t know who your invisible guy is, Trina,” said Peter, “but he got Susan’s number, all right.”

  “Totally,” added Brad.

  “You guys … ” said Lucy, but only half-heartedly.

  “She has a lot of problems,” Ryan said. “She doesn’t make friends easily.”

  She told you tha
t too, did she? Fallon thought.

  “Remember,” Ryan added, “she only transferred here a couple weeks ago. She wanted to get away from her old school because her best friend there committed suicide.”

  “Oh,” Brad said. “Oh, man.”

  “That poor girl,” Cynthia added.

  So that’s why she’s here, Fallon thought. I wonder who that friend was, who killed himself? The only person she was friends with was … oh, right.

  “So, Trina,” Peter asked, “is that voice guy still around?” He said it with what Fallon knew to be a patronizing smile. Not a believer, it seemed.

  “I can’t hear anything,” Trina said. “Look, I’m sorry I mentioned it. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

  They did. Fallon watched them, and as he did so he made contact with their hearts. No sense wasting a good opportunity, right? He checked out Peter first, and learned he had a thing for Lucy. She was sitting next to him, which was a good sign, but when Fallon touched Lucy’s heart he found no interest for Peter. Indeed, she didn’t seem interested in anyone in the group.

  Fallon moved on. Brad was open to Cynthia or Lucy, but not Trina. Ryan could be paired with all three girls, and Cynthia was open to the entire group. Trina …

  Fallon hesitated. If she could hear his voice, she might feel his hand. He would wait before he tried her.

  The bell rang, and all around the main foyer students got up and headed for their classes. Trina, Cynthia, and Ryan went down the left corridor, and the others went right. Fallon followed Trina, hoping to catch her alone. It was luck, then, that they were with Ryan. Fallon could have smacked himself for not guessing who’d be waiting at his locker.

  “Hi, guys!” Susan said, all smiles and cheeriness. Fallon knew that for the act it was. As soon as Susan got Ryan alone, she’d want to know why he didn’t come after her. And she would not be happy about it.

  “Just keep right on walking,” he said, touching Ryan’s heart again. It didn’t work, but Fallon hadn’t really expected it to.

  “Everything all right?” Cynthia asked Susan as they stopped by Ryan’s locker.

  “Yeah, everything’s peachy,” Susan said. “I just need to talk to Ryan about something before we go to class.”

  Ryan looked back at Cynthia and Trina, his eyes pleading.

  “We’ll catch you later, Ryan,” Cynthia said.

  “Don’t leave him alone with her,” Fallon implored, speaking right into Trina’s ear. His voice visibly startled her, but she quickly regained her composure.

  “Bye Ryan, Susan,” she said, and walked quickly after Cynthia.

  “Oh, come on!” Fallon called after them, but if Trina heard, she didn’t show it.

  “You’ve got English now, right?” Susan asked while Ryan opened his locker. “I’ll walk you there. My class is on the way.”

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Ryan asked as he sorted through his schoolbooks.

  “Well, I … ” Susan said. “I just wondered if you were mad at me.”

  “You bet he is,” Fallon said, but Ryan said no.

  “It’s just that you didn’t come after me when I left the group earlier,” Susan said. “When you didn’t, I figured you must be mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Susan,” Ryan said. “I just wanted to stick with my friends.”

  “So I’m not your friend?” Susan asked.

  “No! That’s not what I’m saying,” Ryan told her.

  “If a friend of mine walked away,” Susan said, “I would have gone to see what was wrong. I’m not saying I’m mad at you for not doing it, I’m just saying what I’d do.”

  “I’m sorry, Susan, okay?” Ryan slumped down against his locker. His face said he wasn’t going anywhere for a while, and he knew it.

  “So you’ll come next time?” Susan said, sitting down beside him.

  “Yes,” said Ryan helplessly.

  “Thank you,” Susan said, and she took his hand and squeezed it in both of hers. “You’re a true friend.”

  Fallon turned and walked away. He couldn’t take any more, and there was nothing he could do. Susan had her claws in him, and Fallon knew Ryan would need help to pull those claws out.

  And that help was going to come from Trina, whether she liked it or not.

  It took Fallon a while to find Trina. Guildwood Mills had a lot of classrooms, each one packed with students. Fallon’s ability to walk through walls, however, made his search much easier.

  Finally, in a French class on the school’s southwest side, he hit pay dirt. Trina was sitting in the middle of the first row, next to the wall. Fallon slipped into that wall and sidled up to her, then squatted beside her desk.

  Trina, who had been slouching in her chair, sat up suddenly. She knows I’m here, Fallon thought.

  “Hello, Trina,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

  She slowly turned her head to look, and for a moment Fallon thought she could actually see him. Then he realized she couldn’t; her eyes found nothing to focus on, and she turned back to the front of the class.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Fallon said. He wanted to put her at ease, and that seemed a good place to start.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Call me Fallon,” he told her. “I’m a Cupid.”

  Her eyebrow wrinkled. “A what?”

  “A Cupid,” Fallon explained. “I make people fall in love. People can’t see or hear us, but I know you can hear me. And I need your help.”

  “Go away,” Trina hissed. “Leave me alone.”

  “Sorry, no can do,” Fallon said. “Your friend Ryan is in trouble. I need you to … ”

  “Go away!” she said, and pounded her fist on the wall, right through Fallon’s face.

  “Is there something wrong, Miss Porten?” asked the teacher, a middle-aged man in a tweed jacket and a bad comb-over.

  “No, Mr. Londry,” Trina replied, blushing as half the class turned to look at her. “Just … thinking of something.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Londry said. “Well, ah, perhaps you could think about paying attention? Ha, ha.”

  “Oh dear,” Fallon said. “He thinks he’s funny.” If the class thought the same, they didn’t show it.

  “I will, Mr. Londry,” Trina replied. “Sorry.”

  Trina’s classmates turned away, and Mr. Londry returned to the blackboard. Fallon waited a few moments more, then tried again.

  “That wasn’t nice,” he said. “Your fist went through my head.”

  Trina wrote something on a blank page in her notebook, then turned it to the wall. Fallon read it. It said: Good.

  “Ha, ha, I’m glad you’re happy,” Fallon said. “Now listen up. I’m not going anywhere, not until you agree to help me out.”

  I’m in class.

  “So what?” Fallon said. “It’s only French class.”

  I have a study period next I will listen then.

  “All right,” Fallon said. “Study period it is. What classroom?”

  218.

  “Okay, see you there,” Fallon said. “Don’t stand me up. This is important.”

  I won’t.

  Fallon backed off. As he did so, he watched Trina’s shoulders relax. He had no doubt she was scared of him, and he didn’t want to frighten her, but he didn’t think he could help it. For all intents and purposes, he was a ghost. If he didn’t put her at ease, her fear might get the better of her, and she might not help him.

  He could force her, of course. He could scream in her ears until she went insane, or sing badly until the annoyance got to her. Fallon didn’t want to force her—that wasn’t his style. But if it came to it, he would do what he had to.

  He walked to the back of the class, and waited.
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  12

  Fallon passed the time until the end of class checking the hearts of the students. Very few were able to listen to the teacher for any length of time, so Fallon got a good idea of who was interested in whom.

  The results, however, were less than inspiring. Several boys liked the hot blonde at the back of the class, but she never looked their way. The two pretty boys near the window got a lot of interest from girls, but their eyes didn’t roam nearly enough to make a connection.

  And nobody seemed interested in Trina. Poor girl, Fallon thought. Then again, it was only one classroom. Hardly a cross-section of the school.

  One of the students had a crush on Mr. Londry. What does she see in him, Fallon wondered. The teacher wasn’t the most boring person he’d ever known, but he was in the top ten. Maybe the last Cupid to work this zone had a weird sense of humor. Or maybe student crushes on teachers were evidence of more Cupid practice runs, like the movie star crushes had been. Fallon made a mental note to find the girl someone else to focus on as soon as possible.

  As French class let out, Fallon followed Trina down the hall. He tried to keep his distance; she could sense him, and he didn’t want her any more freaked out than she was.

  When she headed into the stairwell, however, Fallon realized he might have a problem. She’s going to room 218, he remembered, and he looked around for someone going in the same direction. Luckily there were lots of students heading upstairs to their next class; Fallon reached into a boy’s back, touched his heart, and got a free ride up to the second floor. Two steps later, he let go, then walked quickly to catch up with Trina.

  “Hey, spirit girl!”

  Fallon looked left and saw a small group of girls gathered around a locker. When Trina looked at them, they waggled their fingers beside their heads and said, “Wooo!”

  Trina turned away sharply and walked faster. The girls laughed at her back, and one of them called “Spirit girl!” again.

  Oh, man, Fallon thought. Not exactly popular, is she?

  Room 218 was at the end of the hall, near the entrance to the library. Trina hurried in and took a seat in the same position as in her last class—in the middle and against the wall. The class was about half full of students, most of whom sat near the back. There was plenty of space around Trina; their conversation would be undisturbed. The teacher at the front had her nose buried in a Harlequin; she wouldn’t interfere, either.