Текст книги "Lovely Vicious"

Автор книги: Sara Wolf

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Something tears at me, serrated and sharp.

It’s too late.

I’m an idiot, and it’s too late.

***

Avery invites Kayla and I to her Halloween party on Saturday. I’m a little wary, since Avery smiled too much at Kayla when she invited us, but I’ll go, if only to make sure Kayla doesn’t meet any trouble. And with all the popular girls who’ve had a crush on Jack forever being invited too, I triply have to go. I will be the silent protector Gotham Kayla needs.

“You’re going as that?” Kayla sniffs at my tight-fitting latex Batgirl costume. I wince and adjust a brewing camel toe.

“It’s a symbol of my commitment to justice!” I crow, and whip out a fake bat-star from my utility belt. Kayla laugh-sighs and pulls my chin up. Her mermaid costume – a skirt with a tail, drags behind her, and her bra is shimmery and made of spray-painted seashells. Her dark hair is woven with smaller shells, and her make-up is green-blue and likewise sparkly.

“Okay, just hold still and let me do your make-up, at least.”

“Make me look like an actual bat.”

“Ew! No!”

“Give me a huge proboscis nose like those weird bats in Africa.”

“Ugh!”

“Smear my face in guano.”

“Okay, that’s it, you’re being nasty and it’s running your eyeliner so you need to officially stop.”

I laugh and mime zipping my mouth shut as she works, fingers delicately smearing eye shadow and lip gloss and foundation on my face.

“They don’t even put this much makeup on dead people for open casket wakes,” I complain.

“Hush. I’m almost done.”

When she’s finished I open my eyes and look at a whole new person. Smokey eyeliner and pink gloss make me look –

“Beautiful!” Kayla claps her hands.

“Not ugly,” I correct. “Your work is great, it’s just my face. Sorry you didn’t have something nicer to work with.”

“Oh, shut up!” She smacks my shoulder. “Now c’mon. We’re gonna be late.”

She grabs her purse and keys and stops in living room, tiptoeing into her father’s study. She’s only gone for a few seconds before she dashes out, a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey in hand and squealing.

“C’mon c’mon c’mon run run run!”

I shriek in the back of my throat for no reason and run after her out the door, my cape billowing in the cool October night. The sky is steely and filled to capacity with heavy rain clouds. As we pull up to Avery’s jack o’ lantern-lined driveway, a few fat drops of rain start to fall. Orange and black lights are strung everywhere inside, bowls of orange punch and pumpkin cookies and cinnamon cakes crowd the kitchen counter. Girls dressed as skin-showing cats and nurses and witches crowd the house, and guys in football-player costumes and president costumes and rapper costumes with ridiculous gold chains stride around. I high-five the guy who’s dressed up as Pac-Man, because he’s the only creative costume here. As more people arrive, the line of booze bottles on the counter grows. As the night grows darker, the jack o’ lanterns glow eerily on the porch, the wind howling through the trees outside. Guys scare girls and girls shriek, and someone starts the music when Avery finally comes down in a resplendent princess dress, complete with a tiara, perfectly-curled red hair, and a fluffy blue ball gown.

“You look amazing, Ave!” Kayla shouts. Avery gives her a shark-smile and they hug in that cheek-kiss way popular girls do. Avery’s eyes whisk over me and she laughs.

“What are you supposed to be? A drowned rat?”

“Batgirl, you heathen. Duh.”

Avery sighs. “It’s a good thing I invited you. After that fountain stunt you’re the girl to go to for hilarious entertainment at your expense. You don’t mind looking like an idiot, right? Making a fool of yourself? Good. Do that tonight. A lot.”

“You forget yourself, your highness,” I sneer. “But I don’t take orders from you. So you can shove that plastic scepter up your butt and painfully poop it out later.”

Kayla barely manages to contain her laughter until Avery storms away, and then she explodes with it.

“Did you see the look on her face?”

“It won’t last. She feeds on pain and ineptitude and from the look of this crowd-” I glance around at everyone barely getting tipsy. A guy draws a penis on a jack o’ lantern and a girl pulls down an entire string of lights by getting it caught in her angel wings. “– that will be plentiful tonight.”

I wave at Wren, who walks in dressed in green as Link, from the Zelda videogames. He’s even got a cool replica plastic sword. He walks over and shyly blushes.

“H-Hey.”

Kayla sighs. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“Uh, Link?” I inform her. “From Zelda?”

“Who from what? Is that a TV show?”

I roll my eyes at Wren, but he just laughs it off.

“Yeah, it’s a TV show. It came out a long time ago, though.”

“Oh, so it’s like a vintage thing. Cool.” Kayla smiles. A second later she shrieks in my ear.

“There he is!” Kayla squeals. “Promise you won’t drag him into a fountain this time, okay? I want to spend some quality time together tonight!”

I look to where Kayla is pointing – Jack just walked in. I should’ve known – that’s why all the girls in the room are whispering to each other and smiling coyly. My jaw would drop, if I wasn’t so exquisitely in control of my every facial expression. Jack’s got a pirate hat on, but it’s wrapped in a silk handkerchief and has some fake dreads attached to it, woven with beads. His loose white shirt is open, showing his collarbone and just the top of his pecs, with a vest over it and a golden compass hanging from a loop on the breast pocket. A fake sword rests on his hip. His breeches are tucked into his black leather boots, equally worn and dirty looking, and his blue eyes stand out like hard icicles with the smoldering eyeliner smudged around his eyes. He’s the spitting image of -

“Captain Jack Sparrow!” Kayla yells, and leaps into his arms. He smiles at her, then nods at me and Wren.

“Link,” He says. “May the Triforce be with you.”

Wren looks nervous, but he smiles. “Yeah. And with you.”

“Clearly Wren has the Triforce of Wisdom. I’ve got the Triforce of Courage, and you get Power,” I say. “Or not. You don’t get a triforce at all. You’re Ganon.”

Jack smirks. “I could live with being a villain.”

Wren looks impressed. “You play a lot of videogames, Isis?”

“What else does a friendless fat kid do?”

“So this entire time you’ve been calling me a nerd, but you’re secretly one?” Jack quirks a brow.

“Isis just calls everyone nerds. It’s her way of saying she likes you.” Kayla smiles.

I flush. “Is not!”

“Is that the best comeback you can come with tonight? ‘Is not’?” Jack makes a ‘tsk’ noise. Kayla leads him over to the kitchen, and pours him some booze. He grimaces at it, but he glances at me and takes a swig. I go in and fix myself a rum and coke, and stand by Jack.

“Do I drive you to drink or something? Thought the Ice Prince doesn’t drink.”

“I don’t. Tonight’s special.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

He jerks his head to Kayla, who squeals with a group of girls and points at Jack, then squeals louder with them.

“She’s excited, cut her some slack.”

“Excitement is not covered by my eardrum healthcare provider.”

“Every girl is excited by their first boyfriend. Let her enjoy it.”

Jack’s quiet. Someone turns on house music. The bass thumps through my chest.

“Did you?” Jack asks.

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy having your first boyfriend?”

“At first.”

I stare at Kayla’s smile, and smile into my own cup.

“At first it was great. It was really great. Held hands. Went on a picnic, once. He didn’t like going in public with me much, since I was a whale. Didn’t kiss, because I was too shy. Mostly we stayed at his house or my house. Talked. Watched TV. Once he brought some pot over and I almost vomited. It was the first I smoked anything, ever.”

“Rebel,” Jack murmurs.

“I know,” I laugh. “I felt so badass. All it did was make me hungry and then I slept for fifteen hours. It wasn’t even fun.”

“But you had fun with him.”

I watch the dark soda bubble, fizz, pop. Soda can corrode stuff. Metal. Stone. I read that somewhere, once.

“Yeah. I had fun. Except it wasn’t real. He was pretending.”

Jack’s patiently quiet. I grin and shove my cup at him.

“I’m gonna go dance. Don’t drug that or anything.”

As I sway to the beat, getting lost in the nest of heat and bodies that is the dance floor, my memories fall away. Music is the best medicine. It blasts away all the thoughts in your head if it’s loud enough, and keeps them away if it’s a good enough song. I don’t ridiculous dance like I did with Wren, but I don’t dance seriously. Can you even dance seriously? Whatever, that’s a question for some tap-dance or jazz snobs. I just dance. Wildly. I throw my arms up and jump and twirl, the orange-and-black of the lights mixing with the alcohol in a pleasant haze. I can observe, however blurrily, the party from the inside out. Someone’s throwing cooked spaghetti at a wall and watching it stick. Knife-guy snuck his way in, dressed up as a serial killer in a blood-spattered apron and a fake cleaver, and he’s talking excitedly with a guy dressed up as a samurai about the fake katana he’s got. Wren’s flitting nervously around Kayla, who’s showing him all the framed baby pictures of Avery tucked behind the fridge so no one could see how embarrassingly fat and bald she used to be. Avery herself is grinding on some tall, dark guy from the swim team. A green alien costume guy slides down the banister on his belly and crashes into a wall, jumps up, and runs up the stairs to do it all over again. And Jack’s looking at me. The music changes to some slowish hip-hop and the party rages on and Avery and the guy are kissing and Kayla and Wren have disappeared and I lean back, into someone’s chest, and I don’t care whose because I’m so tired and so drunk, and I hear the clinking of beads and look up and it’s Jack.

“Shit!” I stumble away, tripping over a couple. The three of us fall in a tangle of limbs and wounded egos, and Jack pulls me up and holds my hand, tight.

“Try not to kill everyone, idiot.”

“Let go of my hand, before I scratch your eyes out.”

“You’re drunk. You’re going to fall over again.”

“I’m perfectly capable of balancing on my own!”

I wobble, and to keep myself from eating vomit-and-glitter-stained carpet, I grab Jack’s arm. The shirt is soft and white under my fingers, but his muscle is taut and smooth.

“Either you go sit down –” Jack says warningly.

“No! I want to stay here with the music!”

“Or you use me as balance. But you’re a little too drunk to dance with any sort of coordination anymore, and I don’t think anyone else wants you grabbing all over them.”

“Screw you,” I snap. “You’re just…you’re just trying to smother me!”

“Yes. In your sleep. So you’ll stop living and Kayla will be all mine,” He deadpans.

I can’t help the laugh that escapes. I sigh and lean back into his chest again. We stand like that, and he stays still, but I sway gently and he starts mimicking me.

“It’s nice not to fall,” I murmur.

“Generally speaking,” He agrees. The music changes, and it’s loud and annoying, and I pull away and go away. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere soft and quiet. I open guest bedroom doors until I find one that doesn’t have a writhing couple on the bed, and close and lock the door behind me. I flop on the soft comforter. Fancy down comforter. Fancy glass lamps twisted like sea kelp. Fancy pictures of the ocean and fancy pillows that smell like lavender. I suck it in and try to make the room stop spinning. The music still thumps below. A weight is sitting on the bed to my side. Jack. I frown and squint up at him.

“Why did you follow me?”

“You dragged me with you.”

I slump into the pillows again, my voice muffled. “Oh.”

I watch him take off his hat, his normal golden-brown hair sticking up slightly.

“You look better without the dumb dreads,” I mumble.

“I thought you liked Johnny Depp?”

“Is that why you dressed up as him? Because I like him?”

Jack makes a show of standing quickly and putting his hat on the farthest chair. “No. Of course not. It was just what I had in my closet from last year.”

“There’s a price tag on your vest.”

The tiniest of cringes passes through him, but he hides it well and turns back to me, eyes all cold and dangerous-looking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay,” I sigh into the pillow. “You don’t have to get all defensive. If you did it for me that’s okay. Weird, but okay.”

The coldness fades from his eyes, and he comes back and sits on the bed.

“You’re so conceited. Like I would ever pick a costume just for you,” He scoffs.

“I know. I was kidding. I know you’d rather…rather throw me in a pit than do something for me. I wouldn’t do anything for you, either.”

Liar.

I roll over, my cape cocooning me like a burrito. I pull my mask off and throw it over the bed.

“I drank too much.”

“I know. I’ll get you some water.”

Instead of fighting it like I know I should, I relent.

“Okay.”

He comes back with a glass of water, and I drink greedily. Some of it slips down my chin and I make a face and wipe it away.

“I’m gross. Look at me – getting all sloppy in front of my mortal enemy. Unexecutable. Inexhaustible. Un…un…under the sea.”

“Inexcusable,” Jack offers.

“Yes!” I point at him. “Yes. That.”

There’s a shriek from downstairs and someone yells ‘oh god I’m bleeding’.

“So if,” I sit up on my elbows. He’s right in front of my face, sitting on the side of the bed, his knee level with my eyes. “So if Kayla makes you have sex, do I owe you money?”

He snorts, and looks down at me. His fingers stop playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m not having sex with Kayla.”

“But you’re going out.”

“Not really.”

“You can’t…you can’t string her along like that! She really likes you!”

“And so do a dozen other girls,” he says wearily.

“Yeah? Well sorry we like you,” I snap.

Jack freezes. I freeze.

“’We’?” He asks.

It all happens so fast, like a shooting star, a lighting bolt; all the feelings I buried, all the things I wanted to say, all my fears batter down the bomb safe doors I’d been keeping over them, helped by booze and exhaustion and emotional bruises that left me soft and ripe for the picking.

“I like you.”

I reach out for his hand, my own trembling. His fingers look so long and slender, and gentle. They feel smooth, and warm. I take hold of a few of them, like they’re a lifeline. A raft in the sea.  A rope in a deep hole.

“You smell good,” I say. “And you’re fun to pick on. And I like your mom. You’re smart. Kind of dumb, but also kind of smart. I had fun. With the war. And the kiss. And the date. And you called me beautiful and it was nice. So even if we never battle again, even if you hate me forever for saying I like you, thank you. Thank you a lot -”

I never get to finish.

Jack leans down, his lips on mine, and I roll over and push myself up, and he pushes back, and I’m against the pillows and headboard and he’s kissing me –

– and this time she kisses back. This time she is not shocked into motionlessness. This time there is no one watching. This time she is hungry. This time, she darts her tongue out, kisses the corner of my lips, bites at my bottom one and pulls, hard, and I make a noise between a strangled groan and a hitching of breath. She’s curious, and inexperienced, but curious and stubborn and looking for something, anything, to kiss, anything to put her hands on –

– his neck tastes even better, and his throat is soft, and his adam’s apple goes up and down as he swallows nervously (nervously?) and I pull away and murmur happily against his skin.

“I can feel your pulse on my lips.”

– and she has no idea what she is saying and how it’s wrecking havoc, how it sends a molten jolt of static electricity down my spine, through my stomach, and straight to my crotch. The thin pirate pants betray everything. My own body surprises me – I had no idea it longed for her with this buzzing, frantic intensity. It wants to taste her, tease her, fuck her with the slowest, softest, deepest mercy, the kind that’ll curl her toes and make her beg. I press against her harder and wrap my arm around her waist and she giggles (giggles!) and my every instinct screams at me to move down her body, to pull the ludicrously hot latex suit off inch by inch and drag my mouth over her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach, between her legs until she is screaming for me, screaming and panting my name and she forgets all about that bastard, all about pain, all about sadness –

– he pulls me down, lower on the bed, my head on the pillows, and he’s suddenly on either side of me, straddling me, and I’m shaking and afraid but I’m not, not at all, my outside is betraying my inside, because my inside wants this more than anything, but he could hurt me, he hurt someone, this is wrong, he loves Sophia, not me, not me, not me, he could hurt me, he’s going to hurt me again –

– she’s trembling. I kiss her neck, her shoulder. Her whole body is quivering uncontrollably.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Her face twists, collapses, and she hides it in her hands.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “It isn’t right. This isn’t right.”

Something in my chest cracks down the middle and tears in two. It feels right. God, this is the most right-feeling thing I’ve felt in months, no – years. I’d been stumbling through client after client, closing myself off and forcing my way through it all with mechanical responses and sickly pleasure. But just touching Isis now, I can’t be cold. It’s impossible. She burns it all up, all the resentment I didn’t think I had, all the cynical professionalism that compounded on my fear for Sophia. I’d forgotten how to enjoy, and her every soft breath against my face and touch of her fingertips shows me how again, clear and bright and warm as a fire. It’s right. Dear god, it’s fucking right.

But she’s scared. She’s unsure. She’s wounded in more ways than I can count. And she’s drunk. I’m buzzed, but she’s drunk. Doing anything now would be uncalled for. I back off immediately.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – ”

“N-No,” She sobs. “It’s my f-fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” I say gently. “Hey. Look at me.”

She quivers, cracking her fingers and staring up at me. Her eyes are red, tears wetting her cheeks and her mascara blurring, but not running.

“It’s not your fault. Nothing is your fault.” I get up, and grab my hat from the chair. “Stay here and sleep it off. Drink that glass of water. Lock the door behind me and don’t open it until morning. Understand?”

She sits up, sniffing. She doesn’t nod.

“Understand?” I repeat. She shakes her head, purple streaks sticking to her cheeks.

“Don’t go.”

“It’s better if I do. I make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” She shouts, and lowers her voice. “No. I – I would feel better if you…if you stayed. In here. And made sure no one comes in.”

“Kayla will get worried.”

Isis’ face falls. “Oh. Oh, you’re right. You should g-go.”

I watch her, her body giving a shuddering sigh, trembling constantly and shallowly. She clutches her own arms and rubs them like she’s cold. I did this to her. I can’t leave her. Not like this.

“Here,” I say, and walk over. I pull the comforter up, and the blanket, and she eagerly worms her way beneath it.

“Are you sure that latex isn’t uncomfortable?” I ask. She looks down, and I instantly regret saying it. “I wasn’t implying you should take anything off. Just, it looks very tight, and that might be hard to sleep in, I didn’t mean –”

“I know,” she murmurs. “It’s okay. I would take it off, but I don’t have anything else.”

“Use this,” I pull my shirt over my head and hand it to her. She rubs her face on it like a cat.

“Oooh, soft!”

“I’ll just. I’ll be outside.”

“No, it’s okay, just turn around. No peeking.”

“Never.” I make for the door.

“C’mon you big prude! You’re an escort! Act like one!”

Admonished, I stare at the corner as I listen to the sound of unzipping and struggling. She grunts and curses. I smother a laugh, focusing on the whitewash of the room and the vapid painting of the ocean on the wall to scour my mind clean of the dirt it’s currently shoveling into its mouth by the truckload – what are her breasts like? She isn’t flat or small, her infamous tight outfit after the pictures spread had shown me that much. The latex had shown me gently flared hips, good, strong thighs, a small waist I could fit in one hand –

“Okay. You can look.”

I turn just as she’s halfway into bed. She looks so much smaller in my billowy, oversize pirate shirt, so much more delicate. The swell of her chest is soft and considerable. With smeared makeup and only a shirt, she looks so vulnerable, so different from the persistent, confident dervish of the last two months. Her bare legs flash for an instant before she tucks them under the covers and pulls them up to her chin.

“It smells like you.” She smiles sleepily at me. I tamp down the excitement that courses through me at her words, unruly and out of place.

“I’ll be over here.” I sit in the chair.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

I flick the light off. “Goodnight.”

She slowly, so slowly, stops trembling. Her breathing evens out. When the last tremors cease, I finally lean back in the chair and close my eyes.

 -13-

3 Years

19 Weeks

1 Day

My brain throbs with a painful rhythm, trying to escape the household of abuse that is my skull. I crack my eyes open, light assaulting them. I wince and yelp, and pull the covers over my head. Whose bed is this? Why am I wearing this soft white shirt?

And then it hits me, and my brain melts out my ears. This is Avery’s house. Avery’s guestroom. Jack’s shirt. I’m hungover and wearing Jack Hunter’s shirt. My breathing quickens, panic settling on my chest like a fat, evil little man. No one’s next to me in the bed. It’s completely made, so no one slept there. It was just me. I think. I frantically scrabble in my mind for memories of what happened last night, but it’s a massive blank. I don’t remember anything.

I ease out of bed and test my weight on the floor. My mouth tastes like sin on a hot biscuit. I go into the bathroom and rub toothpaste on my teeth with my finger. It’ll do for now. I sniff at myself – I don’t smell like sex. That’s a good sign. But it doesn’t mean nothing happened. I wish I could fucking remember! I pull the shirt off and my costume back on. How did I ever manage to get this off? Or did I not take this off? Did someone else? Did Ja –

The door opens, and Jack looks in. He’s shirtless, his stomach and chest torqued with fine definition. It almost distracts me from his worried face. Almost.

“You’re up,” He says.

“What the hell happened last night –”

“No time. Kayla needs you.”

He ducks out of the door. Cold dread settles in my stomach, and I follow him down the hall. Candy wrappers and empty red cups litter the floor. The barest of sunlight streams through the windows – it’s not full-morning, but it’s not night either. I check my phone. Six exactly. Most of the party crowd’s gone. Jack urges me to hurry, and waves me into another guest room at the end of the hall. Kayla’s sitting on the bed, Wren beside her. She looks terrified and exhausted – her mermaid skirt askew and her makeup smeared. Wren offers her a roll of toilet paper, and she takes some and blows her nose with a loud honk. I rush to her, kneeling and putting my hand on hers.

“Kayla! What the hell happened to you?”

 “Avery,” She breaks into a fresh wave of sobs. “Avery…my drink…she put something in my drink, Isis!”

I shoot a look at Wren. “GHB?”

He nods. “She couldn’t move for a whole thirty minutes.”

“Did anyone –”

Wren shakes his head. “Avery locked the two of us in here. Barred the door with a chair and said we couldn’t come out until we…”

Kayla wails, and looks to Jack lurking in the doorway. “Where were you? I was so scared! Why didn’t you – why didn’t you –”

“I feel asleep in another room,” Jack says softly, but doesn’t move any closer to her. “I’m sorry.”

Kayla puts her face in her hands and wails. Wren flinches. I rub Kayla’s shoulder.

“Hey, listen. You were safe. Wren’s a good guy, okay? You didn’t need to be scared.” I look up at Wren. “Right? You didn’t do anything? Tell me the truth now, and I won’t disembowel you.”

“I swear to you, Isis. I would never – I’m not a monster.” His green eyes go wide. A surge of shame makes me back down.

“Yeah. I know. Sorry for doubting.”

“Avery thought…I guess she thought…” Wren winces. “She thought I would.”

“And use it as blackmail against you for those funds,” I finish. He nods. Jack instantly springs into action after hearing that, walking over to the mantelpiece and shoving the ornaments there aside. He picks up a clock and smashes it.

“Jesus!” Wren shouts as we both jump. Kayla shrieks and covers her ears. Jack turns to us, holding a tiny black box.

“A camera,” he says dully.

“For evidence,” I mumble, slowly standing as the rage fans its flames higher in me. “That fucking bitch –”

“Don’t!” Kayla clings to my arm. “Don’t, Isis, please! She’s my friend! She’s…she’s the only friend I have!”

“Wrong,” Jack interrupts, voice hard. “Look around you. It’s the people who are here now who are your real friends.”

Kayla looks like he slapped her. She breaks into tears again, and Wren winces, unsure of what to do but so obviously wanting to help. He looks to me.

“Let’s go. We have to confront her.”

I scoff. “Confront her? That’s a little mild, don’t you think? I’m gonna rip her tits off.”

Wren smirks and we stride down the hall together, leaving Jack and Kayla alone. We weave around groaning people waking up, puddles of vomit and sticky booze, and the occasional pile of shed clothes. We go to the second master bedroom, and Wren knocks. No answer. I motion for him to stand back, and kick the door with all my furious might.

Avery’s room is painted pale purple, with a beautiful canopy bed in the center. She sits up from the pile of silky sheets, princess costume still intact, if slightly disheveled. She sees me, sees the look on my face, and tries to bolt for the window. I lunge at her, pull her back by her hair, and punch her hard enough to have her crashing to the floor.

“You really don’t learn, do you?” I say softly.

“Wh-What –” She coughs. “What are you talking about?”

I lean down and grab a chunk of her red hair and pull. Hard. She screams and twists.

“Alright, alright! I’m fucking sorry!”

“No. You aren’t. But you will be.”

“You aren’t getting the funding, Avery,” Wren says stonily. “Not now, not ever. I’m declaring the president of the French club unsuitable for duty. I’m putting a sanction on you. You’re officially banned from joining any clubs, attending senior prom, and graduation night.”

“You can’t do that,” Avery snarls. “I’ve been homecoming queen for four years straight! I’m in the running for Prom Queen and everyone knows I’ll fucking win. If you ban me, no one will come to prom. No one will come to your stupid little graduation night, either!”

“Do you really think you have that much influence over the student body?”

Avery scoffs. “I say jump, they jump. You know that.”

“Do you think you’ll have that much influence when we tell everyone you drugged someone at your own party? How many girls will trust you again? How many will brave the threat of being date-raped to come to your parties?” Wren coolly asks.

Avery’s face goes white. I pull her up by her dress and sneer.

“If you so much as breathe in Kayla’s direction ever again, I’ll kill you.”

Avery rips out of my grip and points at Wren.

“You did it! Don’t lie, you sanctimonious cunt! You fucked her! You’re a sniveling little coward opportunist and I know you fucked her!”

Wren smiles, hell-bent gaze turning more determine, more fixed and just slightly amused.

“I’m not that boy in the forest anymore, Avery. I’m not someone you can force into doing what you want. We’re older. And I’m never going to let you hurt another girl again.”

Avery takes a step back, shocked. She looks down at her hands, turns them over.

“That’s right,” Wren says. “You were so caught up in getting those funds; you didn’t realize you were doing the same exact thing you did to Sophia. You did it again. You haven’t learned at all. And you’ll probably do it again, and again, until you kill someone or someone kills you for it.”

“I was doing it for Sophia!” Avery screams, livid. “Those funds, the French club trip, it was for Sophia! She doesn’t have long, Wren, you know that! You fucking know that!”

“So you’d hurt someone else to help her?” He asks.

“I’ll do anything to help her,” Avery says through gritted teeth. “Anything.”

Wren smiles. “It’s too bad you can’t wring the money from your parents. Then again, they’re too smart aren’t they? They raised you, after all. You’re their spitting image. They’d track where it went, who was invited. They’d find Sophia’s name, and dig around in her background. And then what you did would be brought to light. It’d explode in your face. The whole town would know. Maybe it’s time the world knew.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she snarls. “You and Jack would get dragged down with  me.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure in court Jack would get a pardon, and I could plead I feared for my life. We’d get off more easily. But you? No. You’d get something much longer.”

“GET OUT!” Avery roars. “GET OUT!”

She throws things – a vase, a picture frame. She rips a fancy lamp from the wall and chucks it at my head, but I duck just in time. Glass shatters and I run after Wren, back to Kayla’s room.

“We need to go,” Wren pants, helping Kayla off the bed. She leans on his arm, tears almost dried, but still looking confused.

“What’s going on?”

“Give me your keys,” I say. Kayla rummages in her purse and hands them to me. Wren helps Kayla downstairs, and Jack lags behind with me. Avery’s screaming is waking up what’s left of the party. It sounds like a banshee being squeezed out in a wringer.

“Someone’s unhappy.” Jack smirks.

“Wren threatened to come out with the truth about what happened with Sophia,” I murmur. Jack’s face falls, and settles into a granite-hard determination. Wren and Kayla stumble across the lawn to her car. Just as Jack and I get out the door, rapid footsteps come down the stairs and race behind us. I turn just in time to see Avery, nose bloody from my punch, eyes wild with savage fury, her red hair like a mane of a fire goddess, and a baseball bat raised, inches from coming down on my back. I duck, the bat swinging over me, and there’s a snap the sound of something being forced, and Jack suddenly has the bat. Avery pants, shrinking away as Jack looks at the bat, observes every inch of it.