The S-Word (18 page)

She nods, like she already knows where this is going. “I think maybe I stopped him, for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“I threatened to tell. Not to him. I threatened Lizzie. I told her if she ever talked to me, I would tell people what he’d done and they’d take her away from him.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. It was an awful thing to say to a kid.”

“In a way, yeah. But she would have been better off.”

“I couldn’t . . .” Kennedy says.

I realize she thinks I’m accusing her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean don’t feel bad for what you said to her. She must have told him if he stopped . . . I mean, I stayed over there for years, you know? And nothing. Unless he just spared me.”

She shakes her head. “I watched everyone really closely. I was afraid to say anything but I also felt like if I knew he was doing it, I would have to. So I just kept an eye on things. On everyone I knew. Except Lizzie.”

“How would you have known?”

“You can tell,” she says firmly, and then backs off a little. “You can usually tell if you’re looking for it. Kids act different when they’re hiding something big. They retreat or else they start acting out.”

I guess that’s true—at least, I’ve read enough articles about it. It’d be a whole different thing to live through it.

“I can’t believe she never told me,” I say.

“Why would she? She wanted you to love her.” She takes a big drink of her coffee. It’s almost like, even though the alcohol isn’t there, the ritual is still soothing. “It makes you think no one will love you if they knew. Like it’s too messed up for anyone to handle. Lizzie was so sensitive. I think you’d be the last person she’d want to find out.”

That hurts but I know it’s true: I was the last person Lizzie wanted to lose. Still, she could’ve told me. Of course she could have. I wonder if her dad ever started up again, after Kennedy threatened him.

I exhale big, trying to push the thought out with my breath. It stays with me.

“Is that all?” Kennedy asks. “I mean, do you have what you needed?”

I don’t want to say what I’m thinking, but I have to. It would be wrong not to. “Now that you’ve told me—”

“No.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“No. No way.”

“He’s going on that yearly camping trip this summer, you know? That trip where all the kids from Sunday school spend a weekend with him?”

Her head just falls into her hands. “Fuck.” She can’t look at me. She
won’t
look at me. She’s pressing her fingers into her eyelids, like she’s pushing the truth away. Or maybe just the memories.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I’m not trying to pressure you, I swear. I just want you to think about it.”

She looks up, wiping her face with her sleeve. Her eyes are still red but at least she’s not crying. It scares me to see someone so
together
come unhinged. It makes me think none of us are in control.

“Okay,” she says. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” I nod, scooting back. Giving her space. “For what it’s worth, I really appreciate you talking to me. You have no idea how much.”

“Good.” Half of me expects her to smile, to say it helped to get things off her chest.

But the other half knows better. “Now I need something from you,” she says.

“Sure. What?”

“Leave the girls alone.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to fight with her, but I’m not going to lie. “I can’t do that.”

“You don’t know how this has affected them. You don’t see the things I see.”

“Unless you’ve seen them begging for mercy, you haven’t seen anything.”

“Jesus, Angelina—you’re not God.”

I laugh, because I’ve never been more aware of that fact. Never been more aware of my powerlessness. “If I were God, I would never have allowed people to be so evil. If I were God, Lizzie’s body wouldn’t be lying under six feet of dirt.”

Then again, if I were God, I’d know when to shut the hell up.

“I’m asking you as a friend,” she says, holding my gaze. “I did you a big favor today. And you’ve already taken Jesse—”

“Taken him?” I look left, then right. “Where am I keeping him?”

She purses her lips. “He was supposed to be my new bestie,” she says. “A boy who would respect me without trying to take advantage. You know how rare that is?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Fair enough.” She pauses, leaning in. “I don’t know who invited Drake to Cara’s party.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” I can feel my cheeks warming. “Sorry about that night, by the way.”

She laughs for the first time since my arrival. “You kidding? Your outburst made my night. I haven’t seen a show like that in ages.”

“So you knew I was acting?”

“Not at first. But you’re smart, Angie. You’d never flip like that in real life.”

You want to bet?

“Of course,” she goes on, “you’re proving my point. Jesse’s your right-hand boy.”

I wave my hand. “I practically begged him to do it.”

“Even so. He wouldn’t have done it for me.”

Why wouldn’t he?
I wonder. I feel like I should know, but I don’t.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulls a folded note out of her pocket. I open it immediately.

Dearest Princess,

My sincerest apologies. I couldn’t bear to sit through it. I’m growing thicker skin as we speak.

Yours in Cahoots,

Jesse M.

Next to his sprawling signature is a winking smiley face. And yeah, I read too much into it.

“You should be flattered.” Kennedy downs the remains of her coffee. “He doesn’t like very many people.”

I think you’ve got that backward,
I muse as she slides out of her seat. But I say, “I’m still not certain he likes me.”

“Mighty insecure, aren’t we?” She taps my nose. I unfold Lizzie’s pages the moment she’s gone.

Tonight, the dream begins the same. I’m standing outside my house, staring at the forest of evil. Then the creature appears and I’m running before I can even think. I run through the darkness. I run until I’m bleeding.

Then, something different.

I see a break in the trees. I race for that light as if my life depends on it. Really, it’s my soul. The very essence that makes me a living thing. If I can just make it to that light, I will surely be free. Free from the creature.

Free from my own evil that draws him to me.

The light of God will fill me up.

I pass through the forest and find myself in the schoolyard. The grounds are empty but I can hear the creature panting behind me. I’m racing past the clock tower when I stop, for an instant, and look up. The tower is framed by the sun.

No—it’s haloed in holy light. This is my sanctuary.

I just have to climb up to meet it.

The fire escape is right where it’s always been, but the rungs are slippery. My hands keep sliding
down. The creature grabs the end of my dress but misses my leg. Then I’m pulling myself up to the top and looking down at the world below. I’m victorious!

The creature has disappeared.

There’s a rustling at my back. I turn. There stands the entire student body, sharp objects in their hands. They are screaming at me. I look down to see my own sharp claws, curling and curling like a dead person’s nails.

I have not escaped the monster. The monster has become me.

I turn my head. I need to take a step back but there’s nowhere to go. I’m stuck here on this little ledge and people are advancing. I try to tell them that I’m not really a monster, but they don’t listen. Why would they listen?

Just look at me.

I look down. The world sways before my eyes. Then, just as I go to turn back, a flash of light catches my eye. It is you, standing down below, dressed in gold like an angel.

I try to motion to you with my hands. You look up but you don’t see me waving.

I call down, “It’s me! Please help me!”

Still, you show no signs of recognition. I am screaming myself hoarse, but still you don’t hear
me. Why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you help me?

“I need you!”

The crowd is close now. They want to tear me to pieces. I am evil embodied and they must destroy me to survive. They must destroy me or they will become like me. You will become like me too.

I know then what I have to do.

My heart breaks as I turn away from you, away from everyone, and look up at the sky. I know the angels won’t swoop in to save me.

I don’t so much jump as

Just

Fall

Off.

I’m halfway to the ground when your eyes finally meet mine in recognition.

You step out of the way just in time.

T
HE MORNING OF
her death, Lizzie arrived at school bright and early for the first time since middle school. She even beat security to the punch, barely. According to the police report, she shimmied up the old fire escape and pulled herself onto the clock tower ledge. The wind was fierce that day. She must have held on to the bricks for dear life.

Until she didn’t anymore.

No one saw her jump. She might have simply fallen, like in her dream. It’s probably better we don’t know. What we do know is that she was alone. We know she was wearing a white dress, no shoes. But none of that is surprising if you knew Lizzie at all.

The surprising thing is she cried out. One single cry, following a life of silence.

Charlie Bigsby was crossing the parking lot when he heard it. The birds on the grounds took flight. Charlie had worked security at Verity for the better part of his life, but the most he ever expected to see was a fistfight. Maybe a realistic replica of a gun.
Seeing Lizzie’s body sprawled on the cement, he must have lost a little piece of his mind. He managed to call the police; rumor has it his recorded statement is half gibberish. And then he just tuned out. Quit on the spot.

Then the students started to arrive.

They didn’t tell us who died until later. In retrospect, it’s probably a good thing. I would have insisted on seeing some kind of proof, and then my nightmares would be plagued with realistic imagery.

Maybe I would have lost it completely, like Charlie. Walked away and never come back.

I CAN HARDLY
see as I stumble through the coffee shop and out onto the street. I must be crying but my face feels numb. I keep putting one leg in front of the other but I can’t feel myself do it. I tell myself I just have to make it to my car, like it’s the light at the end of some tunnel. It takes forever to get there. And when I get inside, it’s dark.

Then I do something really dumb. I try to drive home while I’m still crying. I feel like I can do it. I keep wiping my eyes like my fingers are windshield wipers. This thought almost makes me laugh, it’s so stupid, but then again, it’s stupid thoughts like these that keep me from driving into a ditch.

I have to pull over twice before making it to Dad’s. Then I do a little damage control with the rearview mirror and my makeup bag. I put a dot of concealer on my nose to hide the redness. Blush distracts from puffy eyes. When I walk through the door I’m damn near bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Dad’s glued to the couch. I plop down and he puts his arm around me like we’re buddies. He’s watching recorded college basketball. I know I should get up and try to piece things together,
but my brain just won’t allow it. I turn off my phone and sit there for the duration of two games. We order a pizza so I don’t have to do the scrounge/cook thing.

It’s dark when I finally try to stand up. My legs feel sewn into the couch. Dad laughs at me as I hobble to my room, but he doesn’t try to stop me. Maybe he can tell how exhausted I am. I guess I’ve kind of been ignoring it. I don’t exactly love falling asleep these days. All the thoughts I try to avoid while I’m awake come crashing down on me.

Tonight the thinking-avoidance dance is worse than usual. No thought is safe. I can’t even think of Jesse without this intense guilt pressing into me. Kennedy said he liked me. She’s usually right about these things.

Of course, she meant he liked me as a friend, and that’s where the problem comes in. I’ve been trying and trying to pretend that’s all I want: a friend. Someone to help thaw the numbness inside of me. But my feelings for Jesse go beyond that, and anyone with half a brain can see it. And that just means I’m going to lose.

I have to let him go. He deserves to be around people who accept him as he is. If I keep getting closer to him, I’ll just try to make him into what I want him to be. And that’s sick.

Other people don’t belong to us. They never have and never will. If Lizzie’s words have taught me anything, it’s that. And just like that, her face is all I can see.

Tears are pooling in her eyes, the way they did on prom night when I found her in the room with Drake. She’s looking at me like this little girl who skinned her knee for the first time. Like she can’t believe there’s blood coming out of her. Like she’s just now aware of her mortality.

And I just walked away. Again and again, I walked away as
her world fell down around her. As they destroyed her. We destroyed her.

I’m sorry.

I fall asleep telling her I’m sorry over and over again. The word penetrates into my dreams.

L
IZZIE CAME UP
behind me in the mirror, wrapping her arms around me. The movement smashed my boobs together even more. “I can’t believe you talked me into strapless,” I said, tugging at the fabric beneath my arms.

“You look beautiful. Black really is your color.”

“How macabre.”

For a minute I looked at the two of us in the hotel room mirror, light and dark, day and night. My black satin number was quite the opposite of her pale blue empire waist gown. She’d braided the two front pieces of her hair and pulled them back with a flower barrette. She looked like she’d just returned from conversing with little animals in the forest. I probably looked like a poser, but I’d been faking confidence for so long I almost believed the act myself.