by KB Benson
“Oh, yeah, no, my song is pro. It’s totally going to kick butt.”
Laney and Chase both glance over their shoulders at me, Chase ignoring the road.
“Of course,” I continue, “with the exception of the haunted movie we all made. That thing was the bomb. Nothing can beat that.”
“Seriously? I’m so excited to see it!” Lisa squeals. “I can’t believe you guys were able to make an actual haunted movie. When you told me, Laney, what you guys were doing, I definitely thought you were crazy.”
Laney shrugs. “Well, we all have our specialties.”
“Well, I’d say Iris has her specialty,” Chase says.
My attention snaps to Chase at the sound of her name.
“She is awesome,” he continues, “and way nice in real life; but in that movie, she came close to being a demon. She was the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I wonder if she grew up watching scary movies all the time,” Laney says.
“Either that or she had a very traumatic childhood,” says Lisa.
I wish they’d stop talking about her. I don’t know how to step in to defend her; it’s not like they’re berating her, but I feel a defense is in order. Not only that, the conversation is making it hard for me not to think of her.
“Oo,” Lisa shivers. “I can’t wait to see it.”
A few minutes later we pull up to Moe’s Alley to a line longer than the Great Wall of China extending out from its front door, a bouncer guarding the entrance.
“Wow, this really is legit,” I say to no one in particular.
Cars line the street, too. We turn the corner and find a side street to park on. Chase pockets his keys; and we pile out of the jeep, stretching our cramped legs. We head straight to the front of the line confidently. Laney and Lisa take the lead. Everybody knows the only way a guy can get past a bouncer is if he has a girl with him.
“I’m sorry ladies but you’re going to have to wait at the end of the line just like everybody else.”
No dice.
Lisa pouts. “Are you sure?”
Laney’s expressions matches Lisa’s—wow, they are good at this. “By the time we get in, the whole party will be over.”
The bouncer looks over his shoulder as the door opens and some giggling girls leave. “See, and there’s even extra room now.” Laney bats her eyelashes at the bouncer.
“Well, I would only be able to let you two in—your friends will still have to wait in line.”
Lisa and Laney glance back at us, obviously bummed they’d have to wait. The door opens again, wider this time, as a second bouncer lets some people from the front of the line in. Amidst the flashing lights inside the bar, I see what I came here for. My heart leaps into my throat as she shakes her dark hair away from her face.
We start to walk away from the bouncer, but I can’t move. Iris is inside. If I don’t get in now, I miss my chance.
“You two go,” I say to Laney and Lisa.
They look surprised and a little hopeful. “No, we aren’t going to just ditch you three out here.” Laney places her hands on her hips.
“You won’t have to.” I glance at the corner of the building.
They both look confused. I nod toward the side of the building with more exaggeration. They look over their shoulders, still confused.
“You two go in the front. Chase, Quinton, and I will meet you inside.”
“But how are you getting in?” Lisa asks.
I’m fairly sure she won’t approve of my plan, so I just raise my eyebrows. “Does it really matter?”
Before they can object, I sprint away from the group and toward the end of the line. Chase follows, not totally understanding my plan, but at least getting the hint to come along. Quinton only follows when he realizes he doesn’t want to be left behind.
I glance over my shoulder as Lisa and Laney face the bouncer, still confused. Within seconds he lets them inside the bar.
“Perfect,” I whisper. “Now we just need to get in.”
“Yeah, about that,” Chase says, “What’s your plan?”
We reach the corner of the building where the brick wall disappears in one direction down an alley perpendicular to the line of antsy dancers.
“This way.” I pull Chase down the alleyway, Quinton quick on our heels. We only have to walk about halfway down the side of the building when a small window peeps out from its brick encasement. “That’s our ticket in.”
“Up there?” Quinton says doubtful. “I don’t think that’s going to work. It’s too high and too small. Plus, this feels illegal.”
Chase only smiles. He’s game.
Grabbing a few disposed crates, I stack them underneath the window. “Chase, climb up here and I’ll boost you in.”
“Sweet.” Chase scales the rickety tower and plants his foot in the toehold I’ve made with my hands.
“One, two, three.” I lift him up to the window level. He wavers a bit, trying to catch his balance.
“The window’s all foggy. I can’t see what’s on the other side.”
“Can you crack it open?” I ask.
“Maybe, hang on; let me try.”
I wait for a minute, the sweat beading on my brow as his body sways slightly back and forth. Chase shifts his weight as he pushes his forearm against the window’s frame.
“Almost—got it,” he grunts, followed by a loud thud and crack. Chase and I freeze. Quinton darts behind a dumpster, his feet scrambling across the pavement. I stare toward the light glow of the street where teenagers chatter loudly. No one heard us.
“What was that?” I whisper to Chase.
“The window frame. I think I cracked it … oops.”
“You guys, hurry up,” Quinton hisses across the alley.
“It’s wiggling open. I think we’re good.”
The window gives way as Chase’s body teeters and I almost drop him. He grabs the window frame for stability and pulls one leg up and over, then the other. Sliding feet first, he slips through the narrow window.
“You good?” I whisper.
No response. I wait a few grueling seconds.
“I’m good,” he whispers back. “I think I’m in a supply closet, maybe? It’s pretty dark in here.”
“No one else is there, though?”
“Nope, just me.”
“Sweet, Quinton’s up next,” I say. Quinton peeks out from behind the dumpster. “Quinton,” I whisper. “It’s your turn.”
“Jace, I don’t think I can do that.”
“It’s easy, you just pull one foot up and then the other. Chase is on the other side; he’ll help you down.”
Quinton swallows hard. “Okay, I guess.”
I make the foothold again with my hands, my fingers bright red from holding Chase for so long. It takes two or three tries for Quinton to get his balance; but when he does, he’s pretty quick to slip through the window.
I’m not sure, but it sounds like he lands on top of Chase when he drops in. A smile forms across my lips. I stand on the edge of the top crate—I’m going to have to jump and I’ll probably only have one chance. Once I leap, the crates will likely fall and make a lot of noise in the process.
Positioning my sneakers at the edge of the crate, I stretch my fingers up to the windowsill—only two inches short. I count off in my head before throwing my body as high as I can into the air. The crates tumble beneath me. My fingers pass the lip of the sill and hit the glass window pane. For a moment I worry my fingers will slip from glass to brick and I’ll fall in a heap with the broken crates; but, at the last moment, my fingers find a grip.
The brick scratches my fingertips and digs into my flesh as I pull my weight up the side of the wall. This is a lot harder than I thought it’d be. I pinch the edge of the sill between my fingertips and slowly walk my feet up the wall until my elbows rest on the lip. It’s easy after that, pulling my weight onto the sill, slipping my feet through the black hole that promises answers from Iris, and slipping i
nto the unknown.
“Gah!” Chase and Quinton cry at the same time as I land on top of them.
“Sorry, sorry,” I apologize as I try to stand only to step on an ankle or shirt sleeve and slip again. Finally, we all make it to our feet.
“I found the door over here while you were climbing.” Quinton cracks the door, a slit of light pouring into the room.
“Nice work,” Chase whispers, rushing to the door. He pushes his eye against the slit. “It’s empty. Let’s go.”
Quinton follows close to Chase, and I bring up the rear. We step into a colorful hallway, music blaring. We follow the sounds of partying teenagers to the end of the hallway where a balcony overlooks the main dance floor.
Iris is nowhere in sight—I momentarily panic, hoping she didn’t leave while we snuck in. The bar is divided into two floors, the entrance on the upper level spreading out as a balcony across the perimeter of the room. The band plays on stage on the lower level, the floor heaving up and down with wild dancing. Lights flash, rocking erratically across the bar: purples, oranges, yellows, reds, and blues. I scan the mosh pit of bodies but can’t tell one person from the next as the glow on their skin changes with the lights.
Chase and Quinton head down to the main floor easily spotting Lisa and Laney. I stay up high to have a better view.
I thought you were trying to distract yourself? My thoughts press. I scan the club again, hoping for a glimpse of Iris. Nothing.
Soon I follow suit and head down the spiral staircase toward the dance floor. I squeeze between bodies, searching for my group. They dance in a cluster together. I join in and try to focus on the beat.
For a moment I forget; I forget my desire for Iris, my weird and sudden uncontrollable actions. I just dance and when the bangs of the drum stop, I’m renewed, revived. Energy courses through my veins. We dance to a few more songs before Chase and I go to get drinks for everybody. Chase was right—they’ve put the alcohol under lock and key. We order Dirty Cokes and wait while the bartender mixes them up. The next song is already into the chorus. Lisa, Laney, and Quinton dance in the center of the floor, oblivious to the need for a drink.
The crowd flows in chaotic harmony with their individual dance moves. Where is Iris? My thoughts are impossible to control. Is she dancing alone? Leaning back against the bar, I prop my elbows on it, hoping I look casual. I may not see her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see me. My gaze wanders around the room again, the quick movements of the dancers barely interrupting my search.
All of a sudden, I see her. She’s laughing, beautiful in all her movements. The sound rings above the party’s chaos. She smiles, but her eyes don’t. The crowd moves with the music and like a punch to the gut I realize her intentions. Iris didn’t come here alone. The boy who reminded me of a puppy chats with her, his arm around her shoulders. She flashes her beautiful smile at him and he eats it up.
A pit sinks into my stomach. Iris flips her hair and the boy stands, whispers something in her ear and takes her by the hand onto the dance floor. The bartender slides my drink across the bar toward me, but I ignore it. Instead, I stand and weave through the crowd toward Iris. I just need a closer look.
I squeeze between strangers pressed into their dance partners, trying to act like I’m dancing through and not stalking. The guy—Stewart—leads Iris to the center of the floor. He holds her close, his hands resting on her waist. Jealousy bubbles up from the bottom of my stomach. He moves one hand lower on her back, lower than it should be. I barely restrain myself from stepping from the shadows and punching him in the face.
Why is she letting him act like that with her? I watch them dance for a few minutes longer until the song changes pace and the band breaks into another set. At the change, Stewart reaches for Iris’ face. She lets him touch her cheeks softly. He pulls her face toward his—disbelief courses through every nerve in my body. Am I really seeing this? Just as their lips are about to meet, Iris turns her head to the side a fraction of an inch. Stewart misses her lips and makes contact with her cheek.
Relief replaces the disbelief but not enough to control my rage. I step from the shadows and grab Stewart by his shoulder, pulling him off Iris. He stumbles back and loses his footing. Iris’ face drops in surprise; and then she smiles, the tension in her eyes easing. She takes a deep breath; it almost looks like that’s the first breath she’s taken in a long time.
“What are you doing?” I shout over the music at the two of them. Iris drops her head in shame and looks at me from under her long, dark eyelashes. How can I stay mad at that? “Don’t do that, Iris,” I say, unafraid of losing control. Sorrow touches her smooth, delicate features.
“Uh, we’re on a date,” Stewart whines—maybe it just sounds like whining because I hate him.
I face Stewart, towering over him in my few extra inches of height. “No, let me tell you what you’re doing. You are going home. You are forgetting about this girl. She’s not yours. She’s in love with me!” I shout. Deep in the back of my mind I know I need to calm down; I don’t want to scare Iris. Besides, this isn’t like me at all: to fight over a girl—it’s crazy.
“Jace.” Iris touches my upper arm. I can hardly hear her over the music. “It’s okay. Please. It’ll be okay. You have to get away from me.”
“Why, Iris?” I turn my back on Stewart. This isn’t really about him anyway; it’s about me and her.
Iris leans in until only I can hear her words. “It isn’t safe here. You aren’t safe with me.”
“And he is?” I gesture to Stewart who stands behind me with his arms folded like a stubborn child.
“He’s visiting Mr. Demonas. He’s his nephew,” Iris says. “I’m just showing him around.”
“Who?” Stewart pipes in.
“Nevermind.” Iris rolls her eyes at him. “I’m not worried about protecting him. I’m worried about you.”
“What are you talking about?” I shout over the music, exasperated. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Iris. I know you want to be with me. I want to be with you, too. Why push me away?”
Tears fill her eyes, one slipping down her cheek. “Because there’s no other choice, not when I want to be with you as badly as I do. I’m sorry,” she whispers.
A whole new type of confusion rolls through me. So, she wants to be with me, but can’t?
“Iris.” I touch her cheek. “Just tell me, please. Whatever it is, I’ll help you. We can do it together.”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m handling it and soon it’ll be okay. I just need—.” She bites her lip. “I just need to tie up some loose ends.”
“Seriously?” Stewart gripes. “C’mon, why don’t you go find a girl that will take pity on your rejected butt and leave me and all of this,” he gestures to Iris, “alone. Mmkay?”
Without a second thought, I turn on my heel and punch the kid square across the jaw. He goes down immediately, cupping his face in his hand.
“Jace!” Iris cries. “What—”
I turn from Iris and storm off the dance floor.
“Dude, what’s going on?” Chase shouts as I push past the bar.
“I’m headed out,” I holler back. “I’ll take a taxi.”
Chase rushes after me. “Hold up, hold up,” he says as we near the exit.
I stop short of pushing through the door.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
From our view up high, I see security talking with Stewart. He points to me. Iris pushes his hand back down, shaking her head at the guard. Stewart yanks free from Iris and points to me again. Security makes their way to the stairs.
“I have a thing for Iris,” I admit, unashamed, “and I just punched a kid who tried to kiss her. I’ve got to bail, sorry.”
“Oh! I’ll grab the others and meet you outside,” Chase says without hesitation. “Then we can head.”
“You guys don’t need to leave. I’ll take a taxi—no big deal.” I glance at the guards pushing past the numerous people
clamoring up and down the skinny spiral staircase—not the best floorplan for catching a perpetrator. “But seriously, I’ve got to go. Have fun.”
“Good luck, man,” Chase calls after me. “With all of it.”
Chapter 22
JACE
I hope Iris will call, but I know she won’t. Whatever is going on, she wants me to stay out of it. I try not to think of what she and that tool are up to right now.
Is she comforting him? I imagine her arms wrapped around him, stroking his hair; and I shudder. She’s probably yelling at him for ratting me out. I imagine her poking him in the chest defending me. I like this idea better, so I indulge it. Stewart’s about to cry as he realizes he’s going to lose Iris. Her face remains calm yet terrifying as she gives him a murderous look. I remember how she looked when we filmed the movie, deathly disturbing but beautiful nonetheless.
Iris told me to wait, she has things she needs to clear up; okay. I can give her time to clear things up; I trust her.
The next day I see Iris in the hall before the first bell sounds signaling the beginning of another monotonous day. She catches my eye from across the commons area and raises her hand slightly in a brief wave. Relief—today she’ll acknowledge me. I wave back. Her frown deepens and her gaze drops to the floor, ashamed. Without another glance in my direction, Iris rushes down the hallway away from me, away from her first class.
I follow her; and as I turn the corner, she slips into the girl’s restroom. Crouching outside the door, I untie my shoelace and retie it again, pretending I’m not waiting for her to come back out. The bell rings, and within seconds the hallways become barren landscapes of tile. I press my ear against the door, I can’t hear anything. Glancing around to make sure no one is watching, I crack the door open about an inch with my foot.
Quiet sniffles echo through the empty restroom. Within seconds, however, the sniffles turn into sobs. I’ve never heard such a heart-wrenching sound before in my life. She cries and, as she does so, my heart breaks alongside hers. How can Iris, who is usually so composed, make such a tormented sound? A sound of real pain, real heartbreak. Through the slit of the door, I can see a portion of the mirrors hang above the sink. In their reflection, Iris leans against the stalls. In time with her sobs, she collapses to the floor, her grief taking over.
