by C. T. Aaron
“Why do they get to get away with it? Why?”
“I don’t know, baby, I don’t. But it’s not forever, okay? I promise.”
I grab handfuls of my hair. “It’s not right, it’s not fair.”
“No, it isn’t. But you can’t just be unkind to people, never mind being violent.”
“He was an entitled prick, just like the ones who beat up Will!”
“Because someone was unkind to them.”
“He's a spoiled little shit!”
“And that was unkind of someone to turn him into that. He wasn’t born that way.”
“Wait-wait-wait. He gets a pass because he has daddy issues? God, I’ve got those, and I don’t talk to people like he just did!”
“No, he doesn’t get a pass, but you should treat the world better so that there are fewer of them out in it.”
I grab her shoulders. “Mae, I love the shit out of you, but your whole Jesus thing . . .”
She smiles. “Yeah, I know. It’s pain sometimes, trust me. Hey—”
She reaches for my arm, but I pull back. So she tries again, this time grabbing tight.
“Hey. Look at me, Briar.”
I do. Barely. Maebry takes my chin in both hands just like she did that day at her house.
“Jerks like him do not control our lives. We will get past them and do whatever we want.”
She kisses me three times on the lips; left, right, center.
“Okay?”
“No, it’s not. Why do they get to talk to people like that?”
Mae stands up and slips her hands into the hip pockets of her navy blue skirt, standing in front of me while my knees keep bouncing up and down. “They don’t get to,” she says simply. “Or at least they shouldn’t be allowed to.”
I grunt a non-response.
“You need to find a way to burn off some of that hate,” Maebry says.
“No, I don’t need to burn it off, Mae! I need to beat the living crap out of that asshole! I’m not being facetious, I mean it. I mean like waiting for him after school some day and kicking the holy hell out of his dumb ass!”
“Violence doesn’t solve anything.”
“Oh, is that what Jesus says?”
So, that wasn’t cool, I know. I actually like that Mae believes so strongly in her faith, and we have some really fun and challenging and long talks about it, which I love. But right now, the only cheek I want to turn is that dumbass in the red cap. Turning it right into ground beef.
I’m on the cusp of apologizing, but Mae cruises right ahead, totally unfazed by me.
“Yes, Jesus said it,” Maebry says. “Also the Buddha, Mohammed, Gandhi, MLK. It’s a pretty big list, actually. Look, B, I’m not trying to tell you to not be mad. I’m mad. But I don’t think even kidding about beating a person up is a good idea. Too many people do it for real, and every time there’s an act of violence in the world, we all become a little less human, don’t we?”
Not that I need reminding why I love this girl so much, but damn. When she gets into her Zen place like this, I want to hug her till we both pass out.
Having said that, I’m not going to give up my point.
“Then how’s it stop? Huh? Tell me. How do we get people like him to knock it off?”
“Not that way.”
“Then how, Mae? What, we ‘tell’ on them? To who? And so what if we did? Look at where we are right now. Like we did something wrong. No one cares.”
She gives me an expression then that I don’t recall ever seeing before. It kind of unsettles me, like she’s analyzing my soul.
The two teachers come out of Mr. Zohn’s office, and one of them clears his throat. “Come on in.”
We stand, and I snarl up at him, “What about that asshole in the red hat?”
“Don’t worry about him, worry about yourselves,” the goatee guy says. “And watch your language.”
I give him the best withering glare I can before Maebry and I go into Mr. Zohn’s office. Mr. Zohn isn’t particularly threatening-looking, but I’ve also never seen him smile. He sits behind his desk in a mesh office chair with a tired little sneer on his face.
“Sit,” he says.
Obnoxious. Mae and I sit in the two wooden chairs in front of his desk.
Mr. Zohn taps a red pen against his desktop. “So you threw a backpack at Andrew Young and shoved him to the ground?”
“It was self-defense!”
“So he was actively assaulting you yourself or Maebry and you had to jump in to stop it?”
A breath coughs out of me. “Not—no, that’s not how . . . you’re twisting it.”
“I’m twisting it?” He taps the pen more rapidly.
I sit back in the chair and slap my palms on the arms. “I don’t believe this.”
Zohn clears his throat. “All right, well, unless you have something pertinent to add in your defense, I’m calling your parents and letting them know we’ll be launching an investigation into this.”
Ooo, I want to say, but don’t; launching an investigation, you just love saying shit like that, don’t you?
“I want you both to stay here in Admin until the period is over and we can get Officer Clark over here to speak with you. Understood?”
Maebry and I don’t say anything as we stand up and walk out of his office. I start for the chairs in the hall again, but Maebry takes an abrupt left turn, placing herself between Zohn’s office and the secretary’s desk further down.
“I can’t stay here,” she whispers, her gaze cast down at the floor.
“Fine with me. Where do you want to go?”
“The doorway. Across the street, let’s go.”
“What? Oh, Mae, no, come on . . .”
Her eyes shine with tears she’s holding back. “I want to see Aison.”
I rub my eyes. “I don’t think my stomach can handle being there right now. Let’s go get some coffee or something, or just go to your house and watch TV.”
Maebry shakes her head. “Please, B, I need to see my Fam. Just for a bit. I’ll go in, pop him over to me, hang out, and then meet you somewhere. Okay?”
I’m still too furious and full of what I think is called righteous indignation to argue. “Okay. Fine.”
Mae touches my forearm. “Come with me?”
“I can’t. I just, I gotta run.” I say it before I realize it, and once it’s out, it sounds exactly right. I could run in the mirror world too, I suppose, but Mae couldn’t keep up, and I can’t just run in a circle. I have to go far, fast. “That’s what I need to do right now, run like hell for an hour or two.”
“But you could come, and pop Ezzy over . . .”
“Mae, if I pop that dog any time in the next hour, it’s going to be to eat that Ballcap son of a bitch raw. I can’t.”
Maebry nods. “Okay. That’s fair. Come on, let’s go.”
We hold hands on the way out, moving quickly to try and beat our school resource officer before he can show up and put us in leg irons or whatever.
Getting off campus is not a problem. We walk right off and cross the street to the preschool, ignoring traffic passing behind us.
I kiss her cheek. “Be safe, okay? I don’t like this.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine. You too. It’s warm, don’t overheat.”
“Too late for that.”
Maebry manages a weak smile. “I’ll call you.”
We say good-bye, and I watch as she walks to the doorway and steps right through it. Sort of disconcerting, really, seeing someone disappear into what may as well be a black hole. For a moment—maybe a few moments, really—I want to run over there, jump in myself, and pull her back to the bright light of a Phoenix day and out of that crazy dark and red-lit mirror world.
But the feeling passes. My limbs are quaking after everything that’s happened this morning, and first hour isn’t even over.
Not only that, and it only just now hits me, I don’t have my freaking backpack.
Swell.
I chew my lip and glare at my high school, debating the merits of going back and trying to find it. Except it’s all just school stuff. I have my phone, I don’t need anything else for the next 24 hours or so, do I?
No. Screw it. They’ll have it in the office when I go back. Assuming they let us back.
I turn on my heel and stalk toward home, already picking out my favorite running gear to wear. Of course, setting the walking pace I am right now, there’s a chance I’ll be too winded to even bother running, but I don’t slow down. Maebry’s right, I need to burn off some of this anger before I really hurt someone.
Who the hell did that Ballcap jerk think he was? And, really, people walk around talking that kind of shit?
Yes. They do.
I shouldn’t pretend to be surprised. Of course people do. They always have, but over the last couple years, it’s gotten worse. No matter what hot Hollywood star or sardonic late night host tries to do to help, it still comes down to people feeling like if you are different, you deserve to be treated Less Than. Like a math problem. If you are X, then X
All the things I want right now I can’t have. I want Maebry here. I want Ezzy here. And I want to be a Brazilian jiu-jitsu black belt Navy SEAL ninja so I can beat the almighty hell out of that hat-wearing asshole, and every asshole like him.
The hell with proper running gear. I take off, fast.
The city whips past me at light speed, like a science fiction movie about warping time and space. Is that what the mirror world is? A warp in time and space?
When I come to a red light, I turn to keep running. When I hit a green light, I take it. I go down streets I’ve never been on, see homes I’ve never seen. I catch familiar scents like juniper trees and car exhaust that come in with one inhale and go away in the next exhale. This feels good; running is the one thing I can always count on.
Not fair, I think, as my lungs at last begin to burn inside. I can count on Mae. I can count on Ezzy. That’s three things. Not bad.
But I only have one of them right now, in this moment.
So much for running off my anger; I want to scream and throw rocks and generally beat the crap out of something. I’m squeezing my hands into fists so tight I have to remember to relax them. I wish I could call Ezzy and burrow into his warm fur for an hour or ten, but here, on Earth, where at least I can see the sun.
After about 45 minutes, I slow down and get my bearings on a map on my phone. I need something to drink, but I don’t have any money on me, it was in my bag. Not that there was a lot in there.
I walk to my house. I’m not in the mood to run anymore. I have zero energy left. So instead I let myself in with a hidden spare key, drink about a quarter gallon of water, dish up a big bowl of The Tonight Dough, and throw myself onto the couch, waiting for the inevitable phone call from Mom, who will no doubt be losing her mind when the school calls.
Except my phone never rings.
I don’t get so much as a text from Maebry, despite sending her a new one every hour or so. Which is kind of weird. Why isn’t she back yet? I wish I could just call Ezzy into my backyard instead of always having to go to the junior high field at night. But with Mom home during the evening, it’s too likely she’d look out a window and see him. Inside’s no good, because he could barely fit into my bedroom. So the school field after dark is still our best bet.
I can’t wait to see him, to feel his giant heart beating in his broad chest. It always calms me down, feeling the strength in his body pulsing through mine. Thinking about him in that way, it makes total sense why Mae wanted to spend time with Aison so badly this morning. I’ll never understand how Familiars and Counterparts work—beyond it just being magic, like Maebry said—but I can completely understand we are connected on some odd, deeper level when I feel those heartbeats pounding through me.
Mom gets home a little after five. I’m parked on the couch, phone on the cushion beside me, flipping from one channel to another with no possible chance of figuring out what’s actually on each one.
“Hey,” she says as she comes through the front door behind me.
She doesn’t sound insane with rage after all. I don’t answer.
“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” Mom says, proving instantly where I get my “tone,” as she calls it. “How was your day?”
I click the TV off and fling myself to my feet. “Pretty much a shit-show. Um . . . how was yours, again?”
Mom shrugs. “Typical.”
Hmm. That sounds to me like she did not hear from school. I decide not to push it; they’ll track her down eventually. Our school is something like 1,500 strong, there’s a very good chance our school resource officer never even made it to the office. It’s not even impossible that they’ve forgotten all about us. One can hope.
“I can’t find Maebry,” I say, hurrying to change the topic.
Mom drops her bag on a kitchen chair. Our house is basically one big room except for the bedrooms upstairs. “Can’t find her, how?”
“Just what I said.” I flop into another chair like I have no bones. “I haven’t talked to her since school this morning. Called her, sent messages . . .”
Mom shrugs her eyebrows and goes to the fridge, pulling out a Diet Coke. “Did you have a fight or something?”
I don’t answer right away, because I hate the way her voice pitches upward when she says it. All innocent-like. What she’s really saying is, Did you have a lovers’ quarrel? or something like that, but she won’t say it, because even though I know deep down she knows Maebry is my girlfriend, she doesn’t really want to know.
I’m not sure when Mom pieced it together, but it’s been weird around here any time I talk about Mae or she comes over, which isn’t often anymore because it’s been weird. I can’t imagine what Mom is so worried about. Mae’s not going to get me pregnant.
“Mom?” I say, tossing my hands up and letting them clap back down on my legs. “I am totally gay.”
Coke bursts out of the can, coating mom’s hand and spilling to the floor. She doesn’t notice. The explosive hiss of her Coke popping open is the only sound in the kitchen.
“Okay . . .” she says, slow and careful, like I’ve just set up a land mine in front of her feet.
“I’m going out with Maebry, which you probably already knew. I’m in love with her. There it is, I said it, and I’m glad. And no, we did not have a fight. Or, at least, not this morning. Not technically. Whatever, the point is, I am getting really worried about her because it’s not like her to just not call me back.”
Especially since she went to, what’s it called again? Another dimension?
I don’t add that part.
“Um . . .” Mom says, and slides silently into another kitchen chair. I’m not sure why we have four of them, since it’s just the two of us. I guess it was a set.
Clearly she’s still stuck on the gay thing. “Mom, it’s okay. There’s nothing to freak out about. Mae’s mom and dad know, and it’s really not a huge thing. All right?”
And then, blam. She’s crying. Not quite ugly crying, but it’s not pretty either. Mom keeps one hand clenched on the soda can and covers her eyes with the other.
Crap. Maybe I should have thought this out more, I thought she’d be more or less okay with it. But I sure as hell don’t need a big guilt trip over it, and definitely not after the day I’ve had.
“Mom, come on—”
Sniffling, she looks into my eyes. Two streaks of tears run down her face. “I just don’t know why you waited so long to tell me, Briar.”
Oh. Oops. Good job, B, called that one wrong. “What?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, kid, I’m not an idiot,” Mom says, still crying but squeezing in a short laugh somewhere in the middle. “I see how you look at each other, I see how you touch each other.”
Yikes! Had she caught us together at some point and never said anything?
My expression makes her laugh-cry again. She gets up to grab a dishtowel to dab her eyes. “I
just mean little things, Briar. Your arm over her shoulders or how she always touches your hand when she’s talking to you and leaves it there. Or how you’d stop touching each other any time I came into the room. That was probably the biggest clue.”
I scan my memory banks. Yup, all true.
“Are you pissed?”
“No, honey, no. I’m happy and I’m . . . yes I’m pissed, because I don’t understand why you didn’t trust me.”
“You never asked . . .” I try, but I can hear it failing before I even get the words out.
Mom sort of rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment on what a lame excuse that was.
“But it’s okay?” I ask. “You don’t mind?”
“That you’re a lesbian?” Mom’s not crying anymore. “Well . . . I hope you adopt children someday so I can have some grandkids, I suppose.”
Grandkids equals parenting equals some kind of marriage equals Maebry equals where the hell is she?
And . . . grandkids? Wow. We haven’t even decided about college yet. We didn’t exactly finish that conversation.
Suddenly I can’t stick to this particular topic anymore. I have got to find Mae. “I’ll see what I can do.”
When I stand, Mom blinks. “We’re done?”
“No—I mean, for now, yeah, if you don’t mind, it’s just, I have to figure out where Mae is.”
Mom looks bummed, but she nods anyway and tries to cover. “Sure, of course.”
I give Mom a hug. It’s not something we’ve been doing a lot lately. “Pizza for dinner?”
“You read my mind,” Mom says, quietly, into my ear. “Thanks.”
We separate.
“Take your phone,” Mom says.
“It’s grafted to my skin.”
Mom grins. “Of course. Be safe, please. And please don’t stay out late?”
“I won’t.”
She might feel better if she knew about Ezzy, but I figure one major life revelation per day is probably enough. And for no particular reason, I suddenly wonder if Mom has a Fam, too. A big animal like mine? Something stranger, like Aison? Or something even more weird than him?
I go for the front door. Just as I get it open, I hear Mom’s phone vibrating against the table.
“Your school’s calling?” she says, her voice a question.
