Brutal Boys

by Nora Cobb

  Theo laughs. “Thanks, I can always use another friend.”

  Chapter Three

  Last week, Chase ran up the stairs before I had a chance to ask about Marcy. I heard him when I entered the town house, his voice carrying as he shouted inside Silas’s suite. I felt a pinch in the ribs, wondering at what I was missing, but I hurried into my suite. And today, the misery column continues, but I’m not the focus. Silas targets other kids he thinks are getting out of line. I don’t even need to know the face to match it to the name. Just look for the kids who look like their world is disintegrating into dust as they drag their broken spirit around the campus.

  It pisses me off. But I’m relieved that the target is elsewhere. I start to avoid the girls’ bathrooms on campus after walking into a cryfest after a really nasty letter. Obviously, the girl didn’t know that her boyfriend had met someone else.

  Dear Misery, My boyfriend has dumped me for a girl who isn’t squeamish to try new things. All because I wouldn’t let him touch me in the cafeteria under the table. He said it was for art, but who does that while his friends watch? Should I try to get him back?

  The girl cries, and in halting words, she tells her friend she’s distraught because they were going to some big party dressed as a couple. And it will only work if they show up as a couple.

  “You can’t be sure,” her friend soothes her. “You have to ask him to be sure it’s you.”

  The girl goes off. “I know it’s him. He asked me to rub my body against his friend’s jeans, and I said hell, no. He told me I was ashamed of my body.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I blurt out.

  “Do you mind?” The girl glares at me. “This is a private conversation.”

  I really want to point out where she is, but she’s having a shit day without me reminding her.

  A week has gone by since I last saw Dom in cinematography club. I cringe when I look at the metal door at the end of the hallway before I turn into the meeting room. And I really cringe when I see Marcy standing next to Dom. They’re having a deep conversation about legal liability during the festival. They don’t come off as a teacher talking to a student but as an adult talking to an equal. That’s the vibe he sends off, anyway. Dom glances over and nods at me without stopping the conversation. I glance at Marcy, and she frowns.

  Is this her reward? Advising a bunch of film students on a festival project?

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?” Dom raises his hand, “This is Marcy Bowen from Video on the Move, and she’ll be our faculty advisor for the film festival. This will be a good opportunity to learn from a pro one-on-one.”

  I swallow hard and force my expression to look neutral.

  “Does anyone have any questions?” he asks us.

  There are a few, mainly when we are going to start filming. I have to admit that Marcy knows what she’s doing. She tells us that we need a script even if it’s a couple of hundred words. It’s a guide, not set in stone. She then breaks down what each script should include. It’s useful and new information as we all scribble it down.

  “I’ll look them over to help you, not to shoot you down,” she says. “This is your project. I want it polished since we’ll have a panel of guest judges, and the winners will have an opportunity to compete in a bigger prize involving schools in the state and then nationally.”

  There’s a murmur of excitement, and Marcy smiles at Dom. So, there it is. The guest judges must be hot shit. It’ll definitely give Marcy a chance to rub shoulders with the right people again. My curiosity is piqued, but I keep my mouth shut and listen.

  “Lucy, it was your great idea.” Dom claps, and the rest of us applaud as Lucy blushes. “Why don’t you introduce it to Marcy, and then we’ll split up into our group?”

  Dom sits down beside me as we form our group. I haven’t given much thought to the concept of Snow White dealing with lust. A little too late, I get the other meaning. I sigh, and Dom’s gaze sweeps over me. I’m not dressed like Silas’s status girl. I’m in my boho chic with my short hair under a weird hat I picked up. My neck feels bare, and I like wearing a floppy brim with rosy sunglasses. Dom reaches over and pushes a lock of hair behind my hair.

  My instinct is to brush his hand away, but I don’t. I play it off instead and turn my attention to Marcy, who’s discussing outlining a script.

  “So, any thought on what we’ll do?” I ask. Paloma and Liam are in our group with three other kids who joined late.

  “Well, the expectation is to make it sexual,” replies Alisa, a sophomore, “but lust can refer to a craving.”

  “Good point,” replies Dom. “The expectation is to make it about sex, and that could make our project predictable.”

  “What if the sex is denied by craving something else like food?” she asks.

  “Or drugs.” Dom glances at me, and a chill tenses my body. I can’t get paranoid. It’s an obvious addiction that many people have. I don’t own it. I’m just one of too many.

  “Or chocolate,” smiles Liam.

  Dom shrugs. “Yeah, but we have to be careful that we don’t turn it into gluttony.”

  We murmur in agreement.

  “Let’s write a short script,” Dom says, “and next week, we’ll vote. We’ll choose the one we like best. If you have a visual, you can use it, but something has to be in writing.”

  “Sounds fair,” Liam agrees.

  I’m ready to leave and grab my purse, but Dom tugs at my sleeve. “Hold up a moment. I want to talk to you.”

  I sit and wait while Dom speaks to Marcy one last time before she leaves the room. I can’t help but look over my shoulder. She turns right and heads for the exit doors. Dom motions to me as he heads out, and I get up, relieved that we aren’t going to stay in that room alone. I haven’t forgotten what he tried to pull that night. I can’t trust him.

  We don’t talk until we’re outside. I know we shared that kiss, but I can’t help thinking about what happened before that kiss. I try to rationalize it, but Dom has to say something. He has to say the right thing to make me trust him again. He needs to make it clear that he’s changed.

  “Hey, I want to talk to you about something,” he whispers as we head toward the town houses.

  I swallow, thinking this it. This is the explanation he should have given me before.

  “What?” I ask, staring straight ahead.

  “The Halloween Ball is coming up,” he says. “Did anyone tell you about it?”

  This isn’t what I was expecting to talk about. And no one has. Maybe this is his opener?

  “No,” I reply, a little put out. “Why do they call it a ball?”

  “Because it’s a formal event. Redwood holds it every year. Since we don’t have a football team, it replaces a homecoming game, and people come to watch the concert.”

  “So, that’s it?” I ask incredulously. “We buy a ticket and go to a dance?”

  He sighs and continues with patience in his voice. “We have to dress up, and we have to go as a couple.”

  I stop short and face him. “We?”

  His mask drops away. “I’m asking you, Vicki. You know. Handing you the proverbial olive branch.”

  I’m speechless, and my life so far starts flipping through my mind, examining the reasons to say no. But I want an excuse to say yes. My body wants an excuse. My mind and heart are ganging up on me. They know better than to give this clown a second chance. I want to take him down with a sharp kick in the groin and then a blow to his ego. But I don’t know why I don’t feel right about doing it, especially after what he tried to pull. I have good reasons to be afraid that he’ll try to do it again.

  “No,” I speak softly.

  His eyes flash for a moment with surprise. Dom takes a step back as if to distance himself from me, and the mask is on again. Dom didn’t give me what I want, and I’m going to be clear. I’m not going to dance around what I expect from him.

  “I’m not sure if I trust you yet,” I explain.

&n
bsp; “Okay,” he shrugs and walks away from me before we reach the town houses. I stare after him, keeping my mouth shut tight by willpower alone. I shrug. That’s it. Maybe I made the right decision. He’s not going to change from an asshole into a man.

  ***

  I spend the next day working on my version of Snow White. Alisa was right. Sexual lust is too easy, and I wonder if I should reach deep and really express what I know. In my bedroom, I roll onto my stomach and stare out the window from my bed. I recognize a few of the birds that hang out on the branches. Somedays, I wish I was a bird. You’re either eating dinner or you are dinner. They don’t have to live with the aftermath of making bad decisions.

  A quick tap, and Luna walks into my room. She’s holding the school newspaper in her hand and it’s folded to the misery column. I didn’t get my copy yesterday. I’m avoiding it. I take my pen and scribble out every word I wrote for the last hour. This is not the place to bare my soul unless I want it used against me.

  “What’s up?” I glare at the newspaper.

  “These kids are off the hook.” Luna sits down beside me. “It’s nothing bad today, but people are definitely being targeted.”

  I glance at it, and it’s some trite letter about someone’s appearance. But still. Who wants to deal with that shit? The writer is upset that she can’t afford designer shoes.

  “Who gives a fuck about this in art school?” I reply. “If anything, we’re trying to set the trends, not follow them like lemmings over a cliff.

  “True,” she says, “but no one wants to be called out.”

  I sit up and ball my notepaper up, tossing it in the wastebasket. “Why do they have a print newspaper anyway?”

  She sits beside me. “It’s part of a grant. And it’s so everyone gets access to school information and policies.”

  This whole business leaves a bad taste in my mouth. “I ran on an anti-bullying platform and lost. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do something about it.”

  “I don’t know, Vicki.” Luna eyes my short hair. “You’ve gotten bullied enough. Why go looking for it?”

  I run my fingers through my short hair. “It’s not right.”

  My hands start to fidget, but I gave up the cigarettes. I need something in my fingers. I need to burn off the excess energy, the tension that’s building up inside of my body. It’s causing me to shake. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Luna places her hand on my back. I open my eyes and the look on her face makes me feel worse. It’s pity. I don’t want to be pitied. I want people to fear me and leave me alone.

  I stand up abruptly. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Be careful,” Luna sings out.

  I bite my lip and don’t answer. Why take it out on her?

  I head down the back stairs, toward the parking lot. The town house has an alcove for parking, so our cars are under the building. I was skeptical about it, but Rudi McCoy at the admins’ building told me it was safe when I got my parking sticker.

  “Reinforced with steel,” she assured me.

  The driveway wraps around the back of the buildings on campus. The other dorms are on the opposite side of the classrooms and the admins’ buildings from the town houses. It’s a good two-mile walk to the far end of the Redwood campus. It’ll wear me out if I walk the loop three times fast. I step into the parking alcove, and the trunk of Chase’s Lamborghini is up.

  Curiosity lures me over toward his car. He glances at me as I peek inside the trunk and see the engine.

  “Huh, I was expecting to see a cover,” I say.

  “There was one,” he replies, “but I like to work on my own car.”

  My pissy mood is distracted by the inner workings of his car. “I know what you mean. My dad made sure I knew how to change a tire when I started driving.”

  Chase wipes his hands on a rag. “My brother taught me.”

  “Yeah, my brother taught me where all the fluids went.”

  “Didn’t know you had a brother, Vicki. But it makes sense. You’re a bit of a tomboy.”

  My look of surprise gives it away. “I thought you knew all about me.”

  Chase smiles. “I’m not a stalker.”

  “I don’t think you’re a bully either. Did Silas act alone?”

  Chase frowns as he lowers the hood of his car. “You can park in my spot from now on. No point in you parking between Dom and Silas.”

  I look over at the Mercedes SUV and the BMW, with my Mustang in between. “I noticed you moved your car,” I reply. “Were you afraid I was going to tap your car when I parked? I’m not spiteful.”

  “Just park where I say,” he replies harshly.

  “I’m not going to be bossed.”

  He looks annoyed. “We all know you can take care of yourself, but it’s for your own good.”

  “To not park near them.”

  “To stay away from Silas.” His tone is short. “You’ll never be off the radar.”

  I march off without answering him.

  Chase tugs my arm back. I swing around and pull my arm out of his grasp.

  “Do you want to get hurt again?” he hisses.

  “Are you threatening me? Is that why you came to the hospital? To gloat?”

  He grabs my arm again as he bites down on his lip. Chase wants to say something, but his willpower is testing him, and he won’t say it.

  “Why can’t any of you say what you mean?” I shout. “That misery column is a joke. If you hate someone, say it.”

  He yanks me forward. “You’ve been told multiple times.”

  “But you never really said why.” I try to twist free. “It can’t be because I might be a threat. That’s ridiculous. And recognize the tribe? That’s shit. You guys pick on anyone you don’t like just because you can. And that’s fucked up.”

  Chase pushes me against the trunk of a tree. I realize that we can’t be seen from the windows. I try to push him away, but he holds me firm in his grip until I’m shaking.

  Don’t cry. Whatever you do, don’t cry. Breathe the air. You aren’t inside; you aren’t restrained. It’s not the same outside. You’re free. Breathe in the air.

  Chase leans in, and I feel his breath on my cheek.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” I gasp, but my voice is weak and chokes back the mucus in my throat.

  “Good people expect good things,” he says. “Bad people expect bad things. Good people think that bad people have just forgotten their humanity. The problem is you’re messing with a guy who lost it a long time ago. He’s not going to find it, so stop thinking he will.”

  He lets go of me, and I rub my arm while glaring at him. “You have something that he lost, and he may take it away from you. Don’t tempt him, Vicki. I can’t keep warning you.”

  Chase walks back to his car, jumps in, and lowers the window as he drives past me. “I want your car moved by the time I get back.”

  I watch as Chase drives away, wondering if he was only talking about Silas. They always leave me with questions.

  Chapter Four

  I spend the weekend at home with Dad and park in the spot away from the boys. My Pony is safe between another Tesla and a lime-green Prius. It didn’t make sense to fight over a parking space I didn’t want anyway. Power plays over the petty stuff are a waste of time. Instead, I start digging into the student newspaper, and of course, Silas is a consulting editor. He’s not the editor in chief. Rosemonde is the editor, of course. It turns out that the online student message board is pretty lame. Every major has its own board, and the general board is pretty much announcements posted by the admins about last-minute announcements that no one reads anyway.

  A weekend at home is good for me, and I sleep soundly. I’m starting to have trouble sleeping again. Nothing bad, but I’m waking up in the middle of the night. Lying in the dark, I have to remind myself that I’m safe. I’m at home, and Dad’s bedroom is down the hall.

  Talia and I start hanging out more, even when Theo and Luna aren’t around. I like he
r because she has no filter. I need a person who doesn’t speak theoretically, and who makes veiled threats in the guise of helping me.

  We sit out back at the Bait Shop, eating simple sandwiches on sliced bread.

  “The cafeteria has gourmet food, but nothing beats egg salad sandwich,” says Talia.

  I raise my brows. “Not into egg salad, but I prefer simple food. At least we’ll never compete for the last one.”