by L V Chase
The rest of the day passes quickly. I don't see Cin or her mother around school. When I see Eric, he doesn't mention the incident from earlier. Soon, it's night, so I head to bed. I dream of Cin, then Kat, and wake up in the middle of the night too pissed to fall back asleep for another hour.
A knock on my door wakes me. The sun's shining through the cracks in the curtains, meaning I've already missed my first class, but I don't care. I roll out of bed and get the door.
It's Eric. The serious expression on his face is all the warning that I need.
"What is it?" I mutter.
Eric hands me a phone. I'm still just waking up, and I think he's found my phone for me.
"You found it?" I ask.
"What?" Eric purses his lips. "It's your dad."
I glance down at the phone and check it more carefully. The scuff marks on it are different.
"Your dad wants to talk to you," Eric says again. He looks away.
I bring the phone to my ear and take a step back into my room. Eric waits just outside with the door to my room still slightly ajar.
"Yeah, it's me," I say into the phone.
"You fucking idiot!" Dad screams. "You worthless piece of useless shit!"
I know instantly what this has to be about. Kat. The stolen phone. It's locked to my fingerprint. It's supposed to be fucking secure, and Cin's mother didn't exactly strike me as the nerdy type. I don't even remember what's on the phone, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's something on it to make us look bad.
Dad's still screaming. I wait for him to finish.
"I don't know what this is about," I say. "Why don't you explain first."
"Useless, utterly useless," Dad snarls. "Do you even have your phone? Check Eric's. I'll wait."
I stare at Eric's phone, but I don't see any new messages or anything. I crack the door open and wave the phone at Eric.
"You know what this is about?" I ask him.
Eric shrugs. He takes the phone and opens up an app. He flicks through the posts, then hands it back to me.
"It's all there," he says.
I glance at the pictures. They're screenshots from a phone. Texts. Pictures. I start reading the first text, then have to stop myself from throwing Eric's phone on the ground. I glance through the rest of the texts to be sure of what I'm reading.
The texts are messages between Eric and me. I'd been pissed at Eric, and he'd been pissed right back at me. In the texts, we’re arguing about Diana. He thought I was trying to blame him, when I wasn't. He mentions that I wanted him to "break that crazy bitch in."
There's more. Private pictures of me, Eric, others. A few video clips. I recognize Diana in the thumbnail for one of them. Proof that the texts are real, and that somebody had access to my phone.
"Fuck!" I kick the wall.
"You see?" Dad's voice suddenly sounds from the phone again. "Fucking failure. That's all you are."
The phone beeps, and I see that Dad's hung up. I toss the phone back at Eric, maybe a little too hard, and he grunts as he catches it.
"Great, fucking great," I mutter. I should have kicked Kat out the moment I found out who she was.
"See?" I tell Eric. "What'd I tell you about staying clean? You shouldn't have let that bitch in yesterday." I shake my head. "Fuck! And if you hadn't been whining about things, half these texts wouldn't be there."
Eric looks like he's going to bark back, but then he just scowls. "Man, fuck this." He turns and leaves.
Fucking hell.
11
Cin
I crack open one eye. The creases of my pillow obstruct my view, but I know if I raise my head, I’ll see Diana’s empty bed. I would have thought at some point her family would come around to collect her things, but they haven’t shown up yet. I don’t know if I want them to. If they take her possessions, I might think about her less, but seeing her side of the room stripped might make it feel like a barren grave. It turns out that pink makes everything seem less traumatizing.
Or maybe I’m numb now.
A battering of knocks on my door shatters my reverie. I raise my head. The first set of knocks could have woken me up, but my memories are still clogged in my head. It takes all of my focus to not think about Diana lurching at me.
The knocking starts again. I untangle my legs from my sheets and lumber towards the door. I swing it open.
Grayson pushes past me, stalking inside. I slowly close the door, turning around to face him. He looks pissed.
“When we met, I thought you were something different,” he says, stalking back and forth between the two beds. He doesn’t look at me, keeping his eyes on the floor ahead of his pacing feet. “I thought that you weren’t like the girls around here, always playing games to sink their nails into a rich husband. But you used your goddamn mother to steal from me? You’re going to ruin my reputation just because you think I’m a killer? Not only is it a dumb plan, it’s a fucking boring one.”
“What?” I mumble.
He stops, glaring at me. His shoulders are nearly to his ears.
“Are you drunk again?” I ask. “What did my mom steal from you?”
“Don’t fucking act dumb,” he says. “You were better at playing hard-to-get.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I must be naturally dumb,” I say. “Did my mother take something from you? How do you know it was her?”
“Because my phone disappeared right after she tried to maul me,” he hisses, but a ripple of uncertainty crests in his eyes.
“And she mauled you?” I ask. “Like—"
“Tried to stick her tongue down my throat, yes,” he says.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say. “My mother…”
I don’t finish the sentence, pressing my fingertips against my mouth. My mother wants Grayson and I to get together. Why would she try to ruin it by being such a mess? My mother is many things, but she knows how to keep her money-making schemes going. I pissed her off. She must have a new plan that doesn’t include me.
“Finish lying,” he snarls.
“Whatever she’s doing, I’m not involved,” I say.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” he retorts. “She’s your mother. And you’ve made it clear that you think I’m a murderer. You’d want a murderer punished for his crimes, wouldn’t you? If you think I did it, if you want revenge, then complete the cycle, Cin. Stab me three times. Just don’t fucking send your mother after me like a fucking coward.”
His nostrils flare. A muscle in his clenched jaw spasms. When he attacked Diana, his anger was explosive. Now, it’s insidious. It’s poisoning him, and he’d let it do so as long as all of his enemies went down with him.
He breaks eye contact with me. His thumb presses down on his bottom lip. A grief-like ache quivers in his face.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to get out.
He pivots around, yanking the door open. I open my mouth, trying to finish my apology—I’m sorry my mother is insane, I’m sorry we’re a moth and a flame, I’m sorry I don’t know which of us is the misled insect and which of us is the destructive fire—but he leaves. He closes the door without any extra force, but the sound still vibrates inside me.
I snatch my phone off of my nightstand, my hands trembling. I check Peer Review’s website. If Grayson is this worked up, it can’t just be about a missing phone. His reputation must be under attack.
It’s the most viewed post.
GRAYSON, ERIC, & DIANA = SEXUAL AWAKENING. Rumors abound after that tantalizing text message between Grayson Voss and Eric Callahan appeared on numerous websites. The prevailing theory is that the “bitch” Eric refers to is Diana Mason, a recently deceased Roman Academy student, and it seems confirmed as multiple sources have alleged that Grayson, Eric, and Diana had been involved in threesomes. This leads to new questions of whether or not the ménages à trois contributed to her suicidal ideation.
I sit down on my bed, cradling my phone on my lap.
It would make sense from what I�
��ve seen. After all, when I first met Grayson, he sent Diana to sit on Eric’s lap and make out with him. And he dated her after that. But from the time I’ve spent around Grayson, I can’t see him ever sharing a woman during sex. He enjoys dominating too much.
I enjoy his domination, too.
I shake the thought from my head. I tip over, my head barely hitting my pillow. I spin around, so I don’t have to see Diana’s side of the room. I don’t need to imagine her coming at me or intertwined between Grayson and Eric. I’ve been haunted by so many ghosts, it shouldn’t surprise me that this brand-new building is filled with them.
12
Grayson
It's like everyone is against me now. Kat's probably fucking Damian to screw me over. I don't know who's side Cin's on. Hell, I don't even know about Eric anymore. You can only trust people so far once their backs are against the wall.
It's a shitstorm, and I keep going back to Dad's warnings in my mind. This is what he warned about—losing control by giving people the benefit of the doubt. He's right. I should have set the rules, destroyed anyone who broke them, and moved on.
Except I can't move on from Cin. I don't know if I'm more mad at Cin and her mother, or at myself for letting all of this happen. I've been too soft on her. I know it. Dad probably knows it, too. She's my weakness. She's my Cin.
I'm staring ahead as I walk along the cobbled pathway through the grass. I pass by another building on my left, a gray thing that looms over me.
"Voss!" a voice calls after me from the shadows of the building.
I ignore them. I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see movement.
"Hey, Voss." Someone grabs me by the shoulder.
I spin around, ready to punch whoever had the nerve to lay a hand on me without asking. When I see the smug face of Damian, I snarl and aim my fist at his face.
"Woah, woah!" Damian stumbles backwards.
I follow through with the swing, missing his nose by a few inches. I recover and shrug, acting like I didn't just try to knock him out.
Damian's dressed like he's some intern, light blue dress shirt, white slacks, brown shoes. The clothes are expensive, but he moves awkwardly, like he doesn't belong in them. Like he doesn't belong here.
I nod to him. "You're a still a pussy, you know."
Damian rolls his eyes. "Shut up. Look, we had a deal."
"We did? That's news to me."
Damian frowns. He looks like he's going to throw a fit, a dark hue shadowing the base of his neck for a second. He takes an extra deep breath and lowers his shoulders, though. The flush goes away.
"We had a deal," Damian repeats. "You make Cinnamon miserable. I take care of her."
"So?" I reply. I'm not even sure why I'm still here listening to the prick drone on.
"So, what the fuck were you doing with Cinnamon just now? You came from her room, didn't you?" Damian gestures backwards towards the scholarship dorms.
"That's my business. Cin's, too. And you know what?" I jab him in the chest with a finger. "Definitely not yours."
Damian slaps at my hand. "You're supposed to stay away from her. Hello? Didn't I warn you what'd happen if you didn't?"
"Maybe I don't care. Listen, Damian. Say everyone already thinks you're a killer. Say some annoying bitch, not the girly kind, but the kind of bitch that thinks he's a man, is annoying the shit out of you. Say he threatens to take you down."
I pause. "You know what I would do in that case? If I was going to go down as a killer, I'd kill someone." I spread my hands. "Might as well, right? If I'm going to get nailed for something, I might as well do it."
I stare at Damian, looking him up and down. "Yeah, I just might do that. What's one more body?"
Damian frowns. "Jesus, Voss. What are you going on about?"
I grin. "What do you think?"
"You ready to do that? You ready to blow this all up?"
"No, just you. It's all you, Damian."
We stare at each other silence for a minute. He finally looks away. Pussy.
"What do you want?" Damian finally asks.
"All the stories out about me right now—I want them gone," I reply.
All the gossip and news sites are carrying the stories. Not all of them are connected to Writing on the Wall, but they have to be the ones behind it. I don't doubt that for a second.
"Because I don't see why I should help you and Cin," I say, "if everyone already thinks me and Eric were behind what happened to Diana. There's nothing to lose. And you don't want me to think there's nothing to lose. Got it?"
"Hi, Damian!" The high-pitched squeal interrupts us.
A skinny blonde I vaguely recognize, not one of the scholarships girls, but similar looking, waves at Damian and rushes over. Her tall nude heels clack on the stony path, the hem of her short tan dress fluttering.
"Damian," she says breathlessly when she reaches us. "Hey, I just saw you and—"
The newcomer turns and sees me. She freezes. "Oh." Her hand goes to her mouth. "Grayson. I didn't know..." Her stares bounce between me and Damian.
"You two know each other?" the girl finally asks.
Damian immediately smiles. "Of course. We're good friends."
He moves to put his arm around me, but I give him a glare filled with pure hate. He gets the message. So does the girl, probably, because, she backs away.
"I guess you two are busy," she says as she scrambles off.
I watch her leave, finally understanding. He's trying to take over. He's trying to take everything, isn't he? The fuck, this is my school. Cin is my girl. Every fiber of my body wants to turn on Damian right now and utterly wreck him, putting him in the hospital if not an early grave. But I bite down hard and hold it all in. Not now. Not yet. He's dangerous, and I have to tread carefully.
"Tight little ass, isn't she?" Damian asks with a smirk.
The fucking idiot thinks I'm checking out that girl.
"Here's the deal," I say. "Those stories about me—I want them gone. Yesterday."
"And, then...?" Damian asks.
"And, what?" I reply.
"In a deal, I give something, and you give something back," Damian says in an annoyed voice.
"Right. You make the story go away, and I don't beat your ass to a pulp."
Damian stares, then shakes his head. "Don't forget that I have everything. I have Brady. You think it's bad now, just wait until I release his tapes. No one's going to be on the fence after that."
I don't reply, just stare back.
"That's the deal," Damian says when I don't reply immediately. "You be a good boy, or I dump all the goods. All of them."
I'm still staring, imagining myself pounding his face in with my fists. I smile.
"Whatever you say, Damian."
13
Cin
“Hey, Cin,” Damian says, leanings toward me from his desk. The desks have all been moved to the southern half of the room, causing the desks to be closer together. We’re starting our personal psychology experiments today, so the northern half of the room must be for us to conduct our experiments.
Or this is part of Grayson’s experiment. We’re conducting them in reverse alphabetical order by last name, so Grayson was required to come up with his experiment first. I’d walked in, fully intending to not look at him, but this puts a wrinkle in my plan.
Damian touches the back of my arm when I don’t respond. I turn my head towards him.
“Do you remember when we were freshman and we decided to try brainwashing my mom into thinking she enjoyed Commander Cannibal music?”
I laugh. “Oh, right. We were so dumb. It turns out that nobody will ever look at cannibal in a positive light, no matter how often you show the word while doing something nice.”
“Class!” Mr. Welch stands up from behind his desk. “It sounds like you’re all finished with your quizzes. Pass them to the right and forward.”
The sound of papers ruffling fills the room as
we pass them to Anita, the student in the front right corner. I clasp my hands together, breathing out slowly. Grayson is next. He’s sitting behind me, so I haven’t seen how pissed off he is today.
“We have limited time to finish these experiments, so let’s get started,” Mr. Welch says. “Mr. Voss, you have the floor.”
Grayson stands up, striding up to the front of the class with a cold detachment. He and one of his flunkies move their desks and their chairs to the front of the room. One of the desks is set up close to the far wall. The other one is three feet directly ahead of it.
Grayson’s flunky leans against the wall beside Damian. Was his name Torque? Axe? He was named after some type of tool, which is oddly fitting.
“Cinnamon,” Grayson gestures to me. “Could you please be my research subject?”
I stare at him. He’s never shown any preference towards me in public before. He must have realized that I had nothing to do with my mother’s theft. This must be his prideful way of apologizing.
I stand up. He taps on the desk closest to the other students. I sit down at it as he picks up his backpack, pulling a laptop out of it. He sets the laptop down on the other desk.
“My experiment is based on lying,” he says to the class. “My hypothesis is that changes in an EKG will tell me exactly when Cinnamon is lying.”
I twist my fingers together. This isn’t an apology. He’s going to give me a polygraph in front of everyone.
It isn’t great, but I’ll be able to tell him I know nothing about my mother’s plans. He’ll have to doubt his own suspicions after that.
He carries over a small box with electrodes attached to it.
“You’ll need to slip off your bra,” he says to me.
“What?”
“The underwire from your bra is exactly where the electrodes need to go,” he says. “You need to take it off.”
Heat blazes in my cheeks, but I don’t want him to see how he’s gotten to me. He wasn’t going to make this easy. He wanted me to suffer. I unclip my bra, slipping it off without taking my shirt off. Still, with my thin shirt, my nipples could easily be visible. I tuck the bra between my back and the back of the chair.
