The Year of the Gadfly (33 page)

“Where are we?” Lily wiggled her toes in the too-big shoes.

Jocelyn linked her arm with Lily's. Amy came over and linked up on the other side. The two girls pressed against her, and she was thankful for their body heat. She noticed that Krista was no longer filming, and she felt relieved; she would have looked like an escorted prisoner.

“I hate this walk,” Jocelyn said.

“You wouldn't last five minutes in the real wilderness,” Amy said.

“Wilderness is a fabrication,” Veronica retorted as though they weren't, at that very moment, walking through black, brambled woods. The ground was flat but uneven and Lily kept stumbling in the oversize shoes. Veronica led with a flashlight, though now and then she'd stop, the path having suddenly disappeared. Lily imagined the forest floor as a long tongue, licking up their trail. She thought of bread crumbs and candy houses. Witches and ovens.

Then, all of a sudden, the woods turned to stone. Veronica scanned her light along the face of a wall and up toward the sky, illuminating darkened windows. She led the group a few feet along the wall, until her light reflected in a series of windows. Then her light swept down, as though into the earth, and Lily saw stairs descending toward a door.

Jocelyn and Amy withdrew their arms from Lily's, the warmth evaporating as their bodies moved away. They walked down the stairs and waited for Veronica to get out the key. The air smelled of dead, wet leaves.

“
Entrez!
” Veronica said, holding the door open, and one by one they walked into darkness. Veronica swung her light around—she seemed to be treating it like a light saber—and its bright circle revealed an empty concrete room. It was much colder than outside, and the place smelled like a garage.
Where the hell are we?
Lily thought over and over, but she dared not ask.

She followed the girls across the room to another door; they stepped through it into more darkness. They were now standing in a tunnel. The floors and walls were concrete, but rusty pipes snaked along the low ceiling. Veronica was first in line, followed by Amy and then Jocelyn. Lily came next, and Krista walked behind her.

“How are you doing?” Krista whispered, with such kindness that Lily felt an outpouring of warmth for her.

“Scared,” Lily said.

“Great, can you say that a little louder for the video mic?”

Lily swallowed and didn't answer. Suddenly everyone stopped.

“Okay, Lily,” Veronica said. “We're almost there, but because you're not fully initiated yet, we're going to have to blindfold you.”

For a second, Lily panicked. What if they left her here, alone in the dark? But Amy was already tying a bandana over her eyes and yanking the knot extra hard. They guided her another few feet, walked through another door, and then stopped again. They seemed to be in a confined space now. The girls were pressed close. Lily breathed in their sweet perfume and shampoo. This reminder of the outside world—the regular world in which these types of strange adventures did not happen—reassured her.

Lily heard the sound of scraping wood, and the group shuffled forward a few feet. Immediately she felt the change. They were in another open space, cold though not freezing, with a familiar burnt smell. Amy walked Lily in one direction, then back the way they'd come, then turned her around a few times. When she was sufficiently disoriented, Amy walked her forward and removed the blindfold. They were standing in a Trench classroom.

Jocelyn flicked on the lights, bathing them all in a harsh hospital glare. Krista resumed filming. Veronica pulled a dozen airplane bottles of hard alcohol from her purse. She handed one to each girl and put the rest on a desk. Everybody removed the caps and drank. Lily took a small sip.

“How'd you find that tunnel?” she asked.

“Wandering drunk one night over summer break when Alexi and I were—” Veronica frowned. “You need to drink more than that!” she ordered. Lily tilted her head back and the liquid burned in her throat. “Good girl,” Veronica cooed, patting Lily on the back.

The girls sat down on stiff army blankets that Amy had brought in from somewhere, and they huddled together for warmth. In the fluorescent light the girls' skin was sickly pale, their makeup clownish. They looked like children in a pageant, at once too young and too old. Lily reeled from the alcohol and piercing light, but she shut her eyes and the nausea passed.

“Ready to play?” Veronica said. Amy pulled the Ouija board from her backpack. “So who are we calling first?”

“The boy who hanged himself,” Jocelyn said.

“Shouldn't we turn the lights off?” Lily asked, trying to be a good sport. The girls looked at her, and she realized they couldn't because of the camera. They all put their hands over the arrow.

“We wish to commune with the boy who hanged himself,” Veronica whispered. “We wish to know your name.”

At first the arrow didn't move. Then it began to slide. At first Lily was certain they were moving it. Then she wasn't sure. The arrow skimmed across the board and lingered on a letter:
J.
The arrow moved again, landing on
U.
Lily watched the girls' wrists and forearms for tautness, but their hands were relaxed—the arrow pointed to
S
—like they were simply letting this happen. The arrow landed on
T.
Lily's heart beat faster. Electricity buzzed around the circle, fusing their bodies into one breathing collective.
I . . . N.

“Holy shit,” Veronica whispered.

Justin?
Lily thought.
This must be a joke.

“Last name,” Veronica said.

K
was followed by
A,
then
P.
Only then the arrow stopped. The girls waited. “Is that it?” Amy whispered. Nobody replied. The arrow did not move. And then it did. The last three letters. When the arrow got to the
N,
Lily stared at it, not realizing the girls were staring at her.

“Did you do this?” Veronica demanded.

“What?”

“Mess up the game?”

“No.”

“You're lying.”

“No, I'm—”

“She's lying,” Amy said.

“She's lying,” Jocelyn said.

“You manipulated the arrow,” Veronica said. “It's obvious.”

“The rumors are true.” Jocelyn's baby-doll eyes grew wide.

Lily had the feeling of string unspooling. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

“I knew Justin was boning you,” Veronica said.

“What? I'd never do that,” Lily said. “I don't like to break the rules. Remember?”

Jocelyn tucked her legs up to her chest. “Maybe the good girl isn't so good after all.”

“Tell us the truth, Lily,” Veronica said, and handed around more airplane bottles.

“I swear.”

Veronica ignored her. “I think she keeps a diary. Check in her purse.”

“Already got it!” Jocelyn held up Lily's purse like a trophy. Veronica grabbed it and pulled a small hammer from her own bag. She put the diary on the desk and smashed the hammer against the lock. Her face was set with total focus and the others looked on, riveted.
It's not my diary,
Lily told herself. And yet she felt the impact of metal against metal, like she was the thing Veronica was trying to crack open.

The lock burst. Veronica tossed the diary to Jocelyn.

“
‘Dear Diary,'
” Jocelyn read in a singsong voice.

“It actually says ‘Dear Diary'?” Amy snickered.

Veronica brought Lily another drink.
Here,
she seemed to say,
have some refreshment at your own execution.

“
‘The people at Mariana suck,'
” Jocelyn read. “‘The artsy girls are fake and obnoxious, especially Veronica Mercy. And the boys are disgusting. There's this one boy, Justin, who's the biggest loser in the whole school. But the weirdest part is that I think about him at night. I touch myself and imagine him eating my pussy.'
”

Jocelyn lowered the diary. The three girls stared at Lily.
Stay in character,
she thought, frantic
.
Krista crouched down nearby, the camera angled on Lily's face.

“You perverted bitch,” Veronica snarled.

Tears welled in Lily's eyes.
It's not me. It's my character. It's not me.
She forced the tears back, took a deep breath.

“She's using Justin Kaplan for sex!” Jocelyn burst out with a wild look.

“Lily,” Veronica said with icy calm, “are you using Kaplan for sex?”

Lily shook her head.

“Don't lie to us. Are you using Justin Kaplan for sex?”

Lily looked from face to face. Three pairs of eyes and the camera's blank lens.

“Are you?” Amy demanded.

Lily shut her eyes. She knew what she was supposed to say. But she couldn't speak. She just couldn't say it. The three girls pressed toward her. Lily opened her eyes to find their faces just inches away. In the garish classroom light, the Studio Girls looked etiolated, white as Lily herself.

“Are you?”

“Are you?”

“Are you?”
they shouted at once.

Lily swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“We were nice to you,” Veronica said, “and you not only shit all over us, but you took advantage of this poor lonely kid.”

“It's sick,” Jocelyn said.

“Please,” Lily heard herself pleading, though the person talking sounded far away. Her cheeks were damp with tears. But were the tears hers or her character's?

Veronica shook her head. “We should send you home.”

Was Veronica going to make her walk home in the dark, in the middle of the night? Was Veronica that cruel? Or that committed to her project?

“But that would be idiotic,” Veronica continued. “I think you need to leave us alone for a while. Then you can come back later and apologize. Make it up to us.”

“But how?”

Veronica sighed. “I don't know, Lily. You really hurt our feelings.”

“Where do you want me to go?”

The girls looked at each other. “Outside,” Veronica said. “Fresh air might give you some clarity on this . . . situation.”

Lily didn't move.

“Come on!” Veronica stood up and walked to the door.

“Can I take the flashlight?”

Veronica sighed like a parent who's been asked one too many questions. Lily picked up the flashlight. Veronica and Krista walked with her down the long Trench corridor, up the stairs, and into the stairwell. They didn't speak until they'd gone out the back door of the school, propping it open with a textbook.

“You can wait by the picnic tables next to the soccer field,” Veronica said. Lily hesitated. If only Veronica would wink again and remind her this was just a game. “We'll get you when we're ready.” Veronica and Krista disappeared into the school.

Lily sat on the picnic table where Justin had first asked her out. Beyond the fields and woods loomed the hulking Hoosac Mountains. Somewhere out there was the end of the world—a place where sky and earth fused, where you could stand on solid ground and dive into space. Lily imagined floating through the expanse, watching the stars, soaking up the infinite black. She'd always wanted to be with others, in the center of a group. But without other people there'd be nothing to want.

It was her character, not the real Lily, who craved this acceptance, she told herself. Then again, even though the diary didn't belong to her and she hadn't written those lines, she felt an uncomfortable ownership over them. She was wearing a costume, but she felt exactly like herself.

Lily looked toward the sky, at the scattered stars and fulsome moon. She pulled off Veronica's earrings and threw them into the grass. Her character wasn't the stars or the moon. Her character was a little satellite orbiting a large planet. A girl who went around and around, trapped in somebody else's gravitational pull. The real Lily wasn't alone, because the real Lily had an ally. Justin. But she didn't feel connected to him now.

“I'm a freak!” she yelled into the night. “A fucking freak!”

“Who are you talking to?”

Lily jumped off the picnic table and whirled around to see Alexi Oppenheimer standing a few yards behind her. His face emerged from the darkness, his sharp cheekbones coming into relief. He wore his soccer jacket, with the neck unzipped and the sleeves pushed up. The strength of Alexi's body was contained within those firm, sculpted forearms, and he knew it.

“Are you okay?” Alexi reached out as though she needed steadying.

“What are you doing here? Are you part of this too?” She looked wildly around for Krista hiding with the camera.

“What are you talking about?”

Lily shook her head. A rush of tears came.

“Did the girls do something to you?”

She didn't answer.

“Let's see. Did they put your hand in hot water while you were sleeping? Or cover you in whipped cream? This is a sleepover party. What did you expect?”

She stared him down. “You're part of this!”

“What? Listen, can we just talk a little?” He crept toward her like she was a wild animal. He reached out his hand.

“Get away from me.” But she didn't move. With surprising steadiness, Alexi brushed away the tears on her face. Her body broke out in goose bumps. Then, suddenly, she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to punch his self-assured, smiling face. “Fuck you, Alexi.”

He shook his head. “Hold on a sec, okay?” He fumbled with a small object and then tossed it to her. It was a digital tape recorder. “Krista couldn't come out here and still have this be ‘organic.' You know Ronnie.”

Lily nodded. Her knees buckled. Was she drunk? When had that happened?

“Jeez, Morgan. Sit down before you fall over.”

Lily loved the way he called her by her last name. She walked toward him and lowered herself to the ground.