The Wicked We Have Done (16 page)

August 23, Last Year

School

Our gallery was more beautiful than Meghan and I deserved it to be. We cared about our work, but it was the group we had that made it so professional—a committee of seven photographers and seven painters who partnered up and created masterpieces over the summer. What was most amazing was that it wasn’t some shit summer job they all half-assed, but a thoughtful endeavor. Every photograph was stunning and the reimagined painting represented the image, but also transformed it.

My favorite, other than mine and Meghan’s sunset image, was a spilt ketchup bottle on a diner table. The photographer had amped up the contrast of the image and the painter had replaced the ketchup with water and a fat goldfish that plugged up the mouth of the bottle. Everything else within the painting was almost identical to the photograph.

The gallery opening was busy. Not packed, but you couldn’t expect much from a college that was more sportscentric than anything else. People brought their girlfriends and boyfriends and study partners, and all of us artists stood in front of our pieces to talk about our inspiration and what it had been like to collaborate.

There was a man standing in front of mine and Meghan’s painting and photo for quite some time. He dressed professionally—nearly unapproachably—and I nudged Meghan in the ribs to get her attention. Her expression shifted to shock. “Holy shit.”

“You know him?” I whispered back.

“I—no—it can’t.”

I nudged her. “Spit it the fuck out.”

“That’s the dean at California Institute of the Arts.”

“No way.”

“I know,” she said. “I know, it can’t be.”

The man glanced over at us and smiled. “You two apply to grad school yet?”

I was too busy gaping to respond, so Meghan pushed back her mane of blonde hair and said, “I—uhh—no. To be honest, I wasn’t planning on grad school.”

“Why?” he asked brazenly.

“I can’t really afford the loans. I know I won’t be making that much money after I graduate.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He handed us both cards with the CIA logo stamped on them. I must have been in such a state of shock, because the only thing running through my head was that I didn’t know the faculty of colleges carried around business cards. But there it was, with his name and title of “Dean of the School of the Arts” in fine italic script beneath.

“We offer both scholarships and TA positions to promising applicants and, more important, solicited students.”

Now it was Meghan’s turn to be dumbfounded, so I asked, “Who would be considered a solicited student?”

“Both of you. I will solicit you, if you are interested.”

From both of our mouths came some babbling form of “Of course we are interested! Absolutely! Wow! Thank you!” It may not have been as clear or concise as any of those things, but I think our point was made. Meghan held out her hand and introduced herself, and he said, “Yes, I know who both of you are.” He held up the back of another business card. Both of our names and e-mails were scrawled across it. He’d already written our info down from the panel next to our art. “You’ll be hearing from me.” He shook our hands. “It was nice to meet both of you.”

When he was out of sight, Meghan and I had as private a freak-out as possible. I could swear, as she talked about our work to strangers and people we knew alike, that her eyes were welling up.

Liam didn’t show up until the end of the gallery opening. He was going to take Meghan and me home. As we walked out onto the sidewalk together, she spun toward me and threw her arms around me.

“CIA . . .” She was trembling.

“Are you
crying
?” I asked in a voice that kind of sounded like
I
was crying, but I wasn’t. I was just so damn excited for us. For her, mostly. I’d only been painting for a handful of years, but she’d breathed photography since we were in high school, when she’d been working for the yearbook. It wasn’t a dream, it was her life. And grad school wasn’t something pretty to go on her résumé. It was a place for her to explore her work, a place for her to learn.

That’s what Meghan cared about most.

I started to laugh, and then she did too. It bubbled from our mouths and built and built until we were in hysterics, clutching each other on the sidewalk in the dark. Liam flipped the car around and she broke away from me, saying, “We haven’t even applied yet; it could be nothing. He might have just been in a good mood.”

“Shut up. You’re incredible, and he saw that.”

“He saw
us
.”

“And I hope to never fail you, because you need to get into that damn school.”

Liam rolled down his window. “The two of you done making out? I want to get some celebratory drinks.”

“Only a lemon drop would distract me from your girlfriend,” said Meghan.

“I’ll buy you both one, now come on.”

We had already slid into the back of Liam’s car when Nick pulled up. He’d missed our opening and it unnerved me, even though Meghan had told me in advance he wasn’t going to show. When I said, “What is he doing here?” I knew it sounded more hostile than I meant. They’d been dating for five months now. I needed to get over the fact that they were serious and she wasn’t going to easily let him go.

Since we’d gotten into an argument on the porch, I hadn’t brought up her relationship with Nick in a negative light. It wasn’t worth the few days we’d been upset with each other. And Liam seemed to like him well enough. It was probably just me who had an issue with him, jealous from the attention he took away from me.

That had to be it.

He parked across the street and swaggered over to us. Even before Meghan rolled down the window and I smelled his breath, I knew he was drunk. He opened the door. “Come on.”

“I was going to get some drinks with Ev and—”

“You’ve been with Ev all day.”

That’s
your
fault
, I wanted to say, but I bit down on my tongue. I trusted Meghan. I knew her like I knew myself, and she loved this guy. He hadn’t seen her all day, and they were serious.

“Why don’t you come with us?” I said.

“It’s fine, Ev.” She turned back to Nick. “Only if you let me drive your car home.”

Nick shot me a look that I swore was full of fury, the kind you rarely see so intensely from a human. I verbally questioned the look later, when Liam and I returned to the apartment. It had been harrowing on the car ride over, but now, in a safe, confined space with Liam, Nick’s attitude was something that I had to force myself to bring up.

“I think he hates me.”

I giggled as he picked me up and sat me on the kitchen counter.

“I think he’s a creep and he hates everyone and Meghan shouldn’t be with him.” Liam’s fingers caressed my neck and slid down to the first button of my blouse, popping it. “But, to be perfectly honest, I’d rather pretend that he doesn’t exist right at this moment.”

My heart sped up. Liam peeled back the fabric of my shirt and slid in between my legs. He leaned forward, kissing the swell of my breasts. “I think that you accomplished something phenomenal tonight, so I don’t want to think about Nick. I want to think about you.”

“Do you?” I asked as slyly as I could.

“I’m your biggest fan.” He popped another button. “Unequivocally devoted to you and your work and your brilliance.” His tongue glided across my skin.

“By brilliance, you must mean breasts,” I said when he slid my shirt off of my shoulders.

I wrapped my legs around his waist. As he carried me to the bedroom, he said, “Your breasts are nice and all, but they’re not what really turns me on.”

***

It was the last time we ever had sex.

I wonder if that night was what made him so much harder to get over. Our last time wasn’t stale from five years of being together. He revered my body like it was the first moment he’d ever seen it, exploring every inch of my skin like new territory.

If we could still feel this way, it meant that we could always feel this way.

Unless, when I lay on my stomach and he kissed and licked his way up my bare spine, he somehow knew that this was our last night together.

If not, then the universe wanted my tragedy to resonate with every aspect of my life, including the fact that my final time with Liam was perfect.

***

When he fell asleep, I stayed up, wondering if every creak of the apartment was Meghan returning. It wasn’t until then that my mind traveled back to the look Nick had given me. Perhaps it was only a momentary figment of my imagination, my secret annoyance with Nick that had suddenly come bursting to life.

In prison, I had ample time to ponder that look for hours. And by then, I knew how real it had been.

12

I don’t believe it at first. The remaining Compass Room inmates have run into each other again, even in the vastness of our prison.

Jace squeals and sprints to us.

It’s fate.

She throws herself around me. Valerie laughs. My body floods with warmth, and I realize now how much I care about both of them.

How much I missed them.

It’s only been two weeks since I woke up in the lodge, but the Compass Room disobeys laws of time. I feel like I’ve known these girls my whole life. Seeing them now, I can’t contain the relief, the flares of hope bursting inside me.

Jace steps back. “Are you crying?”

I shake my head, even though I
am
crying. When I have contained myself enough to speak, I say, “It’s been a long day.”

I hug Valerie too when she approaches. To my surprise, Casey lifts Jace off her feet and swings her through the air. Jace even places a kiss on Tanner’s head. It wasn’t like this before. Other than occasional flirting, we didn’t touch each other. We worked together, but we didn’t acknowledge the fact that friendships were being created.

That’s all behind us now.

“Well, dammit, let’s find somewhere to situate ourselves,” says Valerie. “We have food. And booze.”

It’s Casey’s turn to squeal, and I laugh harder than I think I’ve ever laughed. The feeling is so foreign. So cleansing.

We walk east a bit because Valerie swears there’s a stream that way, and Jace catches us up on what has happened to them since we’ve separated. They were lucky, to say the least. They backtracked to the lodge and found undamaged food and alcohol in the wreckage. They traveled north, where Jace was tested.

“What was it like?” Tanner asks.

Jace shrugs.

“Oh, don’t even.” Valerie kicks a tangle of brush from her boot. “She was terrified. Sobbing.”

“Thank you for painting the picture so vividly,” Jace says dryly, and Tanner chuckles.

“Not saying I wasn’t scared, because I was,” Valerie said. “If she was a goner, I’d be stuck in the middle of the woods alone.”

“Oh, is that the only reason?” Jace elbows Valerie in the ribs, and Valerie grins.

I think of Stella and Gordon. “Nothing good comes from being stuck in these woods alone.”

“Exactly,” Valerie says.

“Anyway,” Jace continues. “It was the same as everyone else’s. Some twisted version of my crime scene. We were walking in the dark, Valerie and I, and we came across a pair of keys lying on the ground. Right when I noticed they were my keys, an engine flared up. I knew it was the engine to my car, because there’s this little hitch in the sound, right before it fully gets going—old piece of shit. The headlights came on. The car was right in front of us.”

“I got out of the way when the engine was revving,” Valerie cuts in, “because I knew what was happening. I knew it was going to run us over. But Jace wouldn’t budge.”

They share a look. There’s a bit of contempt that Valerie holds for Jace, but it’s almost playful. Loving.

Thankful.

“I remembered what you all were saying about your own tests,” Jace says. “And I knew that whatever was about to happen, I could run, but I wouldn’t be able to escape it.”

She pauses as we reach a log. Casey scrambles over it first, helping me. Jace and Valerie toss their packs to us as they shimmy under, followed by Tanner. As soon as we’re hiking again, Tanner says, “
And
?”

“And I saw them, the family I killed. Their body parts were everywhere—all around me. The car kept revving. And, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’ve always been sorry about what happened.” Her voice gets quiet. “It’s like it knew. I mean, the car sped forward and everything. The headlights grew and so did the sound. And then I shut my eyes and all of it stopped.”

“It passed right through her,” Valerie says. “Thought she was dead. Thought the car was going to flatten her.”

“But that didn’t happen,” I say. “Obviously.”

Jace smiles. “It’s stupid of me to say this, I know. But I feel safe now. Like I can beat this thing.”

I nod. “I think that’s an accurate assumption.”

Valerie grins at Jace. She takes her hand, and their fingers lace.

Jace isn’t evil—I’ve known this since my first few minutes in the Compass Room. Jace thinks she’s worthless, and she’s ridden with guilt.

She made a terrible mistake. But she’s not evil.

The sky flashes green.

At first, I think that it’s my imagination, until I notice that Casey has stopped.

The sky flashes again. Jace gasps. This time the flash lingers, staining the sky so what’s left is a strange, vibrant turquoise.

A booming voice breaks through the empty air.

Warning. System error. Candidates, please stay where you are.

Female 48089.

Female 98771.

“What the hell?” says Casey.

Male 92354.

Female 39286.

Male 62201.

Male 04571.

Stay where you are. Repeat, candidates, stay where you are.

Tanner and I exchange glances. A burst of hope fills me. I find Casey’s hand. “It’s malfunctioning.”

“You’re shitting me,” Valerie cries. “You know what that means, right? They have to let us out of here!”

Tanner holds his hands out, motioning for us to be quiet. We obey and listen to the turquoise sky.

But it says nothing.

We wait.

Valerie huffs impatiently, and I sit on the ground. Tanner starts to pace. Soon, everyone gets bored with craning their necks. Jace and Valerie sit on a near log, and Jace rests her head on Valerie’s shoulder. Casey plops down next to me on the dirt.

I rest my head against my knees and listen. If we’re being extracted, then how will it happen? Will engineers hike in and lead us away from this hell? Will we be asked to find our own way out?

When an hour or so passes, I say, “I’m hungry.”

Right when the words leave my mouth, it’s like the Compass Room responds.

Candidates, please proceed to the nearest campsite and stay where you are. Full functionality will return in approximately fourteen hours.

“Functionality?” Jace questions.

Tanner gapes at the sky. “That wasn’t in the contract.”

“We’re supposed to be extracted, right?”

Tanner nods slowly. “Maybe that’s what they mean. Maybe the CR has to be functional in order for us to be extracted.”

Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.

“Welp.” Casey stands and claps off his hands. “Who’s up for making camp?”

***

There’s a flat spot by the creek that’s perfect for setting up camp. As we work to pitch the tent, the sky remains an eerie, vibrant turquoise. A part of me is comforted by the reminder that the Compass Room is malfunctioning, while the other part is anxious. What is going on?

And, more important, when did the Room start to malfunction?

My thoughts soon evaporate when Valerie and Jace lay out their spoils in front of us. Three blankets, some silverware, and enough food to last us another few days. The last thing Valerie lifts from her bag is an unopened bottle of brandy.

She holds the bottle up for everyone to see. “You think we can all manage to get a little drunk without turning completely evil?”

Everyone yells some form of hallelujah, followed by an obscenity.

“Hold it, hold it!” Valerie raises the bottle above her head. “There is one thing. This is my bottle. Jace, back me up here.”

Jace sighs. “Yeah, yeah. She found it.”

“And I don’t care if the sky turns fucking orange, there are rules concerning
my bottle
. First rule, or more of a consideration to make, is that I can only guess that there is one reason they gave us booze in the first place. They want to try and loosen us up so we unleash our inner demons. So know that when drinking from this bottle, you are subjecting yourself to Compass Room shenanigans and there’s a nine-point-eight-seven-percent chance that you will die.”

Tanner blows a raspberry and makes a thumbs-down.

Valerie points the end of the bottle toward him. “My thoughts exactly.
Second
, this is my bottle—”

“You already said that,” Jace says.

“And I am not cracking open this bottle until one of you seriously,
seriously
entertains me. I have a bit of power now, and it’s my turn to start playing the cards.”

Tanner says, “I’m not screwing you.”

We lose it. Casey falls off his log and into the dirt, clutching his stomach.

“Dammit,” Valerie says. “I mean real entertainment. No offense, kid.”

“Asshole.”

“We’ve been stuck here for two weeks and now I found booze and that’s my price.” She lowers the bottle and smirks. “So entertain me. Whoever does so with my stamp of approval gets the first pull.”

Casey sits up. “Wait. WAIT. Are you ready for this?” He extends his arms out on either side of himself, eyes filled with intensity. Slowly, remaining transfixed on Valerie, he lowers his left arm to the dirt and when he snaps it back up, he holds a spoon. Bending his elbow, he brings the spoon in toward his face, placing it on his nose.

It sticks.

“How the
fuck
did you get laid?” Valerie says.

Casey juts his chin, spoon swinging across his mouth. “Mad skills.”

He winks at me and I roll my eyes.

So we attempt to entertain Valerie. Or at least remember that we’re supposed to be trying to entertain Valerie at random intervals during the afternoon and then quickly conjuring up something. Jace is by far the most impressive, and the most eager.

First she juggles pinecones. She starts out with three, finding a rhythm. Then she asks Casey to throw in another, snatching it out of the air, changing the rhythm, and asking for more. When five of them are rotating, I jump and holler like I’m already drunk.

When Jace misses a cone and they fall to the ground, Valerie crosses her arms and says, “Cool. I’ve been to the circus before.”

All of us groan.

Jace attempts again before any of us can think something up, this time using her old gymnastics skills to her advantage.

“Someone wants to get waaaasstted.” Valerie smirks.

Jace performs a series of back walkovers right on the steep bank of the creek, so that any crooked step could send her tumbling into the water. On her last one, she rotates herself all of the way around, and lands in the splits. Casey, Tanner, and I give a standing ovation, waiting for Valerie’s response.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or creeped out,” she says bluntly.

Jace jumps up. “Oh, come on!
Do you know how hard it is to do that?
” She stomps her foot. “I’d like to see you try!”

Valerie seems pretty entertained by Jace’s temper tantrum. But I don’t point that out.

We all follow Jace’s lead and then, for the most part, give up. Tanner tries to impress Valerie with logarithms drawn in the dirt. She threatens to throw him in the water.

I try thinking of something, but camp is limited and the only talent I have that’s slightly entertaining is my painting. Even if I did have acrylics and a canvas, or even my natural paint, I’d probably bore Valerie to tears.

Dinner comes and we still haven’t cracked open the bottle. Casey takes to begging.

“I’ll make you dinner for the next week.”

“From the
canned food
that’s
mine
.”

“I’ll rub your feet?”

“I don’t want a boy rubbing any part of me, but thanks.”

I try to think of the most entertaining party I’ve ever been to. What happened. It was the summer after high school, right after I lost my virginity to Liam, and he was getting all overprotective because of the eight-person strip poker game that I was losing.

I stand.

Valerie grins. “Evalyn has something.”

I nod seriously, pivot, and march toward the creek, right to the closest swimming hole.

Jace squeals in anticipation.

“Take it off!” Casey hollers.

I swivel back around to the group. “Don’t ruin it.”

Grabbing the hem of my T-shirt, I tug it off. The sound of shock is instant because I’m not wearing a bra. I can’t tell who is screaming and cheering; it’s all melding into one sound. I unbutton my pants and push down
all
of my bottoms, trying to gracefully kick my jeans and underwear off without falling over. I fling my garments away, run, and jump.

The first thing I see when I emerge from the icy water is Valerie scrambling from the bank with my clothes in hand.

“Bitch!”

“Sorry, Ev!” she calls when she sits back down by the fire. “But you made it too easy.”

“I’m getting that drink,” I yell.

“You weren’t that entertaining!”

I swim to the bank. The waterline recedes, uncovering my chest, my waist, my hips, and then everything else.

Jace shrieks and laughs hysterically behind her hand. Tanner’s peeking through his fingers. Casey’s jaw’s to the ground.

I stand at the edge of the fire, one hand on my hip, the other extended toward Valerie, palm up. “Give it up.”

She hands me the bottle. “Solid play, my friend. Solid play.”

The seal cracks when I twist the cap off. It’s a delicious noise. I bring the mouth to my own and tip it back, holding my naked Superman pose, and take a long pull. It tastes like hairspray, piss, and floor cleaner.

When I’m finished, I screw the cap back on. “Now give me back my fucking clothes.”

The bottle split five ways is enough to get all of us decently tipsy. Casey’s hand traces little patterns along my back as I sit next to him, taking my last swig of the night. I pass the bottle to him.

“You look pretty amazing naked,” he says when he swallows.

“Is that so?”

His only response is a lazy smile. I’m positive he’s done for the night; the booze seems to have relaxed him to the point of no return. Tanner passed out a while ago. It’s kind of pathetic when alcohol acting as a sedative is reward enough.

It isn’t even dark yet. I remember the exact moment it became acceptable to drink before it got dark—my twenty-first birthday, when suddenly drinking wasn’t a secret, delicious sin, and there were such things as happy hour and being able to buy beer for the beach and drinking on trains.