by KB Benson
“Don’t laugh, okay?” A frown forms on Iris’ face as she picks at her fingernails.
“Why would I laugh? I’m sure you’re great at laser tag.”
“More like completely new to it.”
“You’re kidding?”
Iris shakes her head.
“First things first.” I pick a vest off the charging station. “We’re on the green team, so we each get a green colored vest. Watch your head.” I lift the vest over Iris’ head, careful not to bang it into her.
The vest dangles across her chest and down her back like an animal trying to swallow her whole. Iris isn’t small; but under the vest, she looks tiny. I move to her side and buckle the clasps, tightening the strap against her waist. My hand brushes her bare arm and my heart speeds up about ten notches. I wonder if hers does, too.
She pulls her long hair out from under the shoulder straps and gives herself a once over.
“I look legit,” Iris says, admiring her battle gear. “I just point this at other people and pull this button, right?”
“It’s a trigger, and almost.” I turn her laser gun around to face the right direction. “Now you can pull the trigger and hit other people besides yourself.”
Iris rolls her eyes. “See, I’m a disadvantage on your team so beware. You’ll have a lot of making up to do for this.”
Our team heads into the arena first and goes straight for the power-up station, Iris following closely behind me. Our power-up station is basically a hole, about the size of a softball, in the wall with flashing green lights. I demonstrate to Iris how the power-up station works by putting the muzzle of her gun into the hole. She holds it for a few seconds while the hole beeps quietly and finally dings when her gun is charged.
She nods just as the overhead lights flash twice signaling thirty seconds to go time. I crouch low behind a wall. The other members of our team follow suit and spread throughout the arena and the lights shut off. Thrown into darkness, creatures sketched in glow paint protrude along the walls, illuminating the playing field. I motion to Iris to follow me in this game of war. But instead of being ready for battle, Iris stands with her head tilted to the ceiling, gun held limply at her side.
“What is this?” She spins in a slow circle and takes in the entire room.
I stand, confused. “Glow paint. Have you never seen glow paint?” The limited light definitely brings out Iris’ beauty.
She shakes her head, mesmerized. “It’s so lovely.”
Gently, as though she’s afraid of ruining the paint, Iris touches one of the figures on the walls, her fingers tracing its edge.
After a few moments, Iris collects herself. “Of course I’ve seen this, just never before like this.”
Iris is cute when she’s admiring the world around her. It doesn’t seem to happen often; but when it does, her beauty takes on a childish glow like she’s experiencing the entire world for the first time.
“C’mon.” I grab her hand. “You’re going to get us killed.”
I try to keep Iris next to me, fight off her attackers for her, but she’s in no need of any help. She darts from pillar to pillar like a ninja meant to disappear into the night. A few times I catch the wild smile that follows a game you’re winning.
Before I know it, the alarm buzzes signaling the end of the game. I find Iris at the exit. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand, her dark hair sticking to her face in places.
“Good game.” I hold my arm out and Iris ducks into it, giving me a small side hug. “You ready to see your score?”
“I was being scored?” Iris’ jaw drops.
“Don’t worry, we all were.”
We walk out of the arena, depositing our vests back on the charging stations and then wait in the lobby for our scores to fill up the display board.
“Hey,” I holler when our names pop up at the top of the screen first. “We won!” I hold my hand up, and Iris gives me a high five.
“Good. Those little devils were puppy guarding our main player the entire time. If they won, it would’ve been by default anyway.”
“Ah, you sound like you do know your games.”
Iris laughs. “Yeah, when in reality I have no idea what I just said.”
I roll my eyes and direct my attention back to the scoreboard. Names appear on the left side of the board like piano keys falling into place. My eyes automatically search for my name—third place. Not bad.
“What’s a good score? The higher your number?”
“Yeah.” I scan the board for her name. “The number in the center is how many shots you took and the number on the right is how many you missed.” Just as I finish my sentence, my jaw drops. “What?” I gasp. “I thought you’d never played this before.”
Iris shrugs. “I haven’t.”
I can’t believe it. Iris took ninety-nine shots and didn’t miss a single one. “I think we have a new laser tag queen bee.”
Iris’ eyebrows shoot up at me, a challenge. “You want to go again? Try beating the queen bee? I think I might have the hang of this now.”
“Yeah, yeah. This time I’ll have to let you watch your own back.”
“You’re on.”
We play at least five rounds before I give up. Iris says she’s never played before, but somehow she manages to come in first place every time. We commemorate her ‘first’ game of war with a stop at the photo booth and, when nine rolls around, Iris tells me she needs to go. I’m not surprised. Every night we’ve worked together over the past few weeks, Iris leaves at the same time. I always get to walk her home which gives us an extra fifteen minutes together.
The second night we’d hung out Iris didn’t want me to, but I insisted until she gave in. She led us in a completely different route, weaving in and out of streets, crossing through cafes and subways. When I tried to find my way back, I totally got lost for twenty minutes before recognizing a bar we’d walked past the first time she let me walk her home. Later when I asked why she always changes the route, she told me it’s to keep it interesting; and she can find her own way home if I’m confused. To her disappointment, I love a challenge, and that’s just what I told her. I think there’s more to it on her end, though. Regardless, as long as I’m up for the challenge, she hasn’t been able to turn me down. That’s what I keep telling her at least.
“Alright, let me grab our jackets and we can head out,” I say, combing my hair back out of my face.
“Sounds good.” Iris drops into a seat at an empty table to wait.
It doesn’t take me long to make it to the coat closet at the back of the pizzeria. When I peek back at Iris, she’s speaking with some kid who’s been monopolizing Pac-Man all night.
I watch the boy as I grope blindly into the closet; clearly, he’s self-assured in his ability to land a date. Iris isn’t the kind of person to accept a date while on another one, though. I’m too far away to hear what he says; but he rolls his eyes and rests his elbow on the table, leaning in to Iris.
Iris shakes her head politely and leans away from his advances. The boy shifts closer, edging around the table and rests his hand on her arm, just above her elbow. I snatch our coats and head back to our table to offer some type of rescue, but Iris doesn’t need it. The glare she throws at the dude could probably cut him just as deep as if she’d lobbed a switchblade at him. The darkness surrounds Iris’ demeanor, and the boy jerks his hand back as though he was shocked by electricity. He doesn’t run away, but he looks like he wants to. Iris mouths a few words to him, and the boy freezes, fear etched into his expression, before he bolts away from her.
I slow my pace back to our table. I wonder what Iris said to the kid. By the time I reach the table and hand Iris her coat, she looks completely composed.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yep.” She nods, short and sweet.
“That’s an interesting watch.” I gesture to her wrist as I help her slip into her jacket. It looks like any other watch only pictures replace the numbers.
She tugs the sleeve over the watch and shifts in her seat. “Ah, thanks. Just a fashion statement. Should we get going?”
“We should.” I hold my arm open, and Iris links hers through as we walk to her house. When we reach her porch, my hand brushes the small of her back to escort her up the stairs.
“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school?” I ask, our faces needlessly close to each other.
“Definitely.” She smiles, and her top teeth catch her bottom lip.
Energy vibrates between us, and all I want to do is hold her face between my hands and kiss her. It would be the perfect ending to the perfect day, but I worry she’ll turn away again.
“Awesome,” I say instead. “I can’t wait.”
I step back off the porch. Iris waves, her smile dropping a fraction.
“I’m gonna wait and make sure you can get in,” I say, hating to leave her standing in the dark every night.
“Oh, it’s fine, Jace. Really.”
“I know,” I say. “I just want to make sure nothing happens to you.”
She rolls her eyes but rests her hand on the doorknob. “You’re relentless.”
“Just being a good gentleman.”
“You always are. Good night, Jace.” She leans into the door and pushes it open. With a final wave, Iris closes the door between us.
A small victory swells inside my chest. At least for tonight, Iris will be safe. I’m sure of it.
The entire walk home I can’t help but smile. Iris likes me. I’m not even sure how I get home; but when I walk through the front door, the apartment is dark and quiet—hopefully that means Mom and Peter made up. I wander to my bedroom and collapse on my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Iris.
My mind replays Iris’ words over and over: It’s you I like, not your parents. When I told her I couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow, she has no idea how true that is. I feel like a kid again, waiting for Christmas in the morning.
Chapter 14
JACE
Iris is already in her seat when I walk into Mythology. Chase sits on her desktop, deep in conversation with her.
“Hey, guys, what’s up?” I say as I collapse into my own seat.
“Hey, dude,” Chase says.
Iris’ gaze flickers to mine, her eyes brightening, and she gives me a small wave. “Hey.”
“So, guess what’s happening?” Chase asks, his elevated energy palpable.
“What?”
“For our haunted movie for the talent show, we thought we might need a beautiful, terrifying villain to give the movie a spooky feel. Well, our girl Iris here is the only one we know who can fit both of those parts.” Chase nods toward Iris who fidgets at her desk.
“They asked me to play the evil ghost who kills everybody in the end.”
“Oh yeah?” I pause to gauge Iris’ reaction.
A smile spreads across her face. “I was born to do this!”
Chase pumps his fist in the air. “This movie is gonna be the bomb. We’re totally going to win this talent show. Yeah, baby.” Chase leans over and high fives Quinton who’s chatting up another girl on the opposite row from us.
Iris laughs. “I can’t wait. But… aren’t tryouts today?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Do you guys have anything filmed to show the committee?”
Chase shakes his head. “No. I mean we just got our star actress on board, so we haven’t really had time.”
“Mostly because Chase was afraid to ask her,” Quinton mutters, joining the conversation.
“Hey!” Chase smacks Quinton in the arm. “I wasn’t afraid, Iris. I just didn’t know if you’d be up for it.”
She still smiles, not acting offended in the slightest. “Well, I’m glad you finally asked.”
Chase slugs Quinton in the arm again. “See, dude, no problem. Anyway, we have the script complete so we’re going to propose the idea to the committee and see how it goes.”
“Well, good luck,” Iris says. “Let us know how it turns out and when you want to start filming.”
Just then, I realize Mr. Demonas still hasn’t arrived. It’s rare he’s late. Actually, he’s never late; and we never have this kind of time to talk in class.
“Dude, where’s Demonas?” I ask Chase.
“He’s sick, I guess.”
“That sucks. I wonder what he’s got…” Quinton squeezes hand sanitizer into his palm.
“I’m guessing mono.” Chase lowers his voice to ensure only our circle hears. “I bet he has a completely hidden life when he’s not in school. I bet he got it at Barney’s.” Barney’s is a bar in the city known for wild, crazy parties.
“Yeah, that’d be it,” Quinton snorts. “Can you see Demonas doing anything remotely cool?”
“Well, exactly,” Chase says. “You never expect it from the quiet ones.”
“We’re supposed to have a sub,” Iris finishes answering my question. “Subs are always late, though.”
“But you know what no Demonas means?” Chase shouts across the room. “We can sit wherever the heck we want and prank as much as we want.” The class cheers, and a lot of people shuffle around to sit by their friends.
“Think outside of the box, Chase,” says Doug, a heavyweight kid with a permanent scowl plastered to his face. “No Demonas means no class.” Doug shoves himself out of his seat and heads for the classroom door. He doesn’t even look back before crossing the threshold.
“Mm, I’m not going to go that far,” I say. “Ditching class isn’t worth not graduating.”
“Someone should’ve told Doug that,” Quinton says as he settles in his new seat.
I turn to take my regular seat but am stopped short by a girl named Emily squeezing into my spot, already gossiping with her friends. Maybe getting to sit wherever we want isn’t the best when your assigned seat is where you want to sit.
I’m still standing when the sub finally walks in. My brain panics and I scan the room for an empty seat anywhere. I don’t want to be the kid that gets roped into sitting at the teacher’s desk for lack of enough seats. I know that wouldn’t actually happen because we have enough desks; but for some reason, I don’t see any unclaimed ones.
“Psst, Jace.” Iris’ voice cuts through my thoughts. She nods her head to a seat next to her piled with stuff. She pulls the books off and sticks them back in her bag. “I had to fight off a few people for this seat, so I hope you like it.”
I chuckle. “Thanks.”
The sub, Mrs. Leenan, goes through the list of what to teach when subbing a class you know nothing about. She hands out worksheets for us to fill out about the mythical creatures we’ve been studying and questions for us to answer in order to identify the different gods and goddesses.
I stare at the worksheet for a little bit, but the words blur together. My mind is not up for busy work today. I read through the first five questions, and not a single one sounds familiar.
“Iris,” I whisper as the sub marches back and forth in the front of the classroom like an army sergeant. “I have no idea who the river god is.”
“Zzzzttt!” The sub’s shrill silencing effort reverberates throughout the room. All the heads bent in concentration snap up. Mrs. Leenan holds her hand in the air, her fingertips touching her thumb and the entire hand pointed directly at me. “No talking.”
I lower my head back to my own worksheet. When Mrs. Leenan starts her march again, I peek at Iris. “Help,” I mouth.
Iris stifles a giggle and mouths what looks like “A-list”.
“What?” I mouth again.
She tries mouthing it again before shrugging in defeat. “Sorry,” she mouths instead.
I try to fill out my worksheet quickly, but I can’t concentrate. Time and time again I find myself watching Iris. She’s hunched over, quickly scribbling answers down on her worksheets. Her left hand twirls her dark hair, the curls bouncing when she releases a strand.
“Mr…. uh… Jacobsen,” the sub mutters as she reviews the ro
ll call list. She clears her throat, “Mr. Jacobsen. Kindly focus on your work, please.”
My eyes dart back to the worksheet in front of me. I stare at the words on the page but am really only aware of the incandescent body sitting next to me. I hope she didn’t notice my attention was actually on her, I think. I shake my head; I cannot win with this sub. I read question number three:
What is Zeus’ father’s name?
Sweet, I think. I know this one. Just as I put my pen on the paper, the bell rings. I look at the clock, surprised at how quickly class went by. I look back down on my paper. I’ve only answered two questions.
“Have you been paying attention in class at all, dude?” Chase asks as he walks up next to me and sees my worksheet.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t look like it, huh? Maybe Demonas won’t weigh ‘sub work’ very high.” Somehow, I doubt I’m right.
Iris looks over at my worksheet, too. Awesome. She’s going to think I’m an idiot.
“It was Achelous.” She smiles. “I probably should practice mouthing things better.”
“Ah, Iris. Were you cheating?” Chase teases. He couldn’t care less.
“It’s not cheating if Jace couldn’t read my lips, is it?”
“Touché.” Chase slips between us and into the hallway to head to lunch.
I pace back and forth in front of the orchestra room door. There are two people in front of me before it’s my turn to audition for the talent show. I’m usually pretty good about holding in my nerves, but for some reason this time I can’t. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dark blue jeans and take a breath.
I’m nervous they aren’t going to like the song Iris and I wrote; the song for Iris. More than that, I’m nervous I’m going to completely screw it up with the most important audience member watching. I don’t want to let Iris down with this song we’ve spent so much time working on. I glance down the hallway. Iris told me at lunch that she wanted to come to my audition to support me and my “amazing song” so I told her when and where. Part of me hopes she misses it, then I won’t be as nervous and can calmly get through it. The other part of me, though, can’t wait for her to show up.
