How We Fall Apart

by Katie Zhao

  And Peter, charming Peter with his charming smile, sat right beside me. He gazed at me like he was a drowning man and I was the last life vest left on the planet. “You okay, Nancy?”

  Nancy. Even in my floaty state, the sound of my name passing through his lips was enough to send shivers down my spine. I must have made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat because Peter’s voice, sounding distant but soothing, returned. “You’re so pretty.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His intense gaze made my cheeks warm.

  Boys didn’t call me pretty. Brainy, yes. Know-It-All Nancy. Nerdy Nancy. I’d heard myself nicknamed every variation of the word “smart.”

  But never pretty. Peter was the first one to call me pretty. It made me fall for him during my freshman year, and it made me fall for him again now.

  “You think so?” I hated how breathy, how stupid and air-headed I sounded. But that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now except the way Peter’s stare was heating me up from the inside out.

  “I’ve thought so since the day I met you. Even more so the first time you walked into my classroom earlier this year. Isn’t that messed up of me?”

  And before I could stop it, the alcohol spoke through me. “If that makes you messed up, then I’m messed up, too.” Because I felt it as well. Felt this incredible, undeniable pull.

  A pause. Peter and me, teetering on the edge of something dangerous, teetering on the edge of the world.

  I pushed him back, and then I leaned in and kissed him. Emptied my head of every last rational thought, including the voice that would’ve told me that a teacher kissing a student was illegal. I pressed my mouth against his soft lips and chose to forget.

  Peter pulled back and whispered into my ear, “Let’s be together again. I can give you everything, Nancy. Grades. Money. Status. Would you like that?”

  “Why me?” Peter could have any girl, any girl he wanted at all. But here he was, with me. Here he was, choosing me. And I needed to know why. Needed to hear it from his lips.

  “Because you’re special, and I like you.”

  The words were intoxicating, like hypnotizing music to my ears. The Peter Shui still liked me. Peter thought I was special. For once in my life, I felt special.

  “Here.” I was dimly aware of Peter slipping something—a rolled-up piece of paper—into my hands. His hands working their way down my neck and traveling the length of my spine, hovering along the waistband of my jeans. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

  “Oh my God, Peter. What’re you doing to her? She’s a minor, you lech,” I heard someone scream. It sounded like Jamie’s voice. “And you’re her teacher!”

  It was Jamie’s voice, I realized through the jumbled haze of my thoughts.

  Peter’s hands disappeared from my body. “S-Sorry,” I heard him mumble.

  “No. Don’t be sorry,” I managed to whisper. Then I blacked out.

  When I woke up, it was still dark out. Jamie was shaking me. My head throbbed, and I opened my eyes to the sight of an empty dining room table across from the fancy couch where I’d been sleeping.

  “It’s okay now,” Jamie had reassured me in a soothing voice while tilting some water into my mouth. “I sent Peter home. Jesus, Nancy, how much did you drink?”

  “What . . . ​time is it?” I groaned. Somehow, even the darkness of the room made my eyes hurt, so I shut them.

  “It’s ten.”

  “What?” My eyes flew open, and my heart lurched. Mama was going to kill me.

  Jamie spoke at rapid-fire speed, which always happened when she was nervous. “Don’t worry. I told your mother you started feeling sick while we were studying, so I let you nap for a bit at my place. Now I’ll get an Uber to take us to your home, and we’ll never speak of this again, all right? You’ll be okay. Nobody else knows what happened with you and . . . ​ well. You know who.” Jamie rubbed my back, tracing soothing circles with her hands. “You’re okay. I’m here for you.”

  I nodded and immediately regretted it. My head hurt like someone had tried to cleave it in half. My stomach was churning, and I wanted nothing more than to be home in my warm bed.

  Maybe I’d made bad choices tonight, but I was glad Jamie had been by my side. Moments like this were the reason why Jamie and I were still friends, though she could be awful and spoiled. Moments like this, I wished Jamie could let more of her true, genuine self shine through.

  “The guy you were seeing during our freshman year,” Jamie said suddenly. “ ‘P.’ That was Peter.”

  It wasn’t a question. I knew there was no point denying it, so I nodded. Didn’t speak. Didn’t ask how, or why, she’d remembered an initial, that P, for so long.

  “I thought so. I’m glad I got to the bottom of it.”

  Jamie’s wording seemed strange to me. Almost like she’d wanted this scene between Peter and me to happen. Planned the evening, from the guests to the drinks, and predicted the outcome.

  But that couldn’t be it. Right? Jamie was my friend. She wouldn’t do that to me. Even she wouldn’t sink so low.

  Jamie was my friend, and she was the one helping me through this night of bad decisions. I shook my head. I’d had too much to drink.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Jamie whispered, reading the scared expression on my face accurately. “I wouldn’t do that to my dear cousin, or to you. You can trust me.”

  When I finally got home, I slept badly, and woke up at five in the morning, three hours before my AP Chem exam.

  I was sunk.

  Or so I thought, until slowly, ever so slowly, I unfurled the slip of paper Peter had tucked into my hand. Written on it were two columns. The one on the left was filled with the numbers, and the one on the right with letters.

  1) A

  2) D

  3) E

  4) A

  The list went on through number one hundred.

  I aced the AP Chem exam with flying colors, shocking Mama, who’d no doubt thought I was doomed to fail. Maybe now, at long last, I could live up to the daughter she’d always wanted me to be. Maybe if I saw Baba again in the future, as a rich, successful lady, he’d regret abandoning his family. Better yet—maybe he’d hear about my success and come back to America to be with his wife and daughter.

  Or maybe I was a hopeless, stupid girl who dreamed too much, after all. But if this was a dream, then I didn’t want to wake up.

  I texted Peter to thank him after the exam was over. Then he and I fell into a cycle of meeting up in secret once or twice a week, with one unspoken rule: nobody could ever find out about us, or we would both be ruined.

  “Only for now,” Peter would say. Softly, pleadingly. Cruelly. “Only while I’m still your teacher.”

  I wondered if what existed between the two of us, whatever it was—if any of it was real. Or if it was another silent negotiation to Peter. He gave me the grades; I gave him myself. We both gave each other the pure exhilaration of doing something we knew was wrong. Of throwing caution to the wind. Shattering all the rules.

  Being with Peter, carrying this dirty secret around with me, made me feel so different from boring Nancy. It made me feel powerful. He made me feel powerful.

  I loathed it. And I craved it.

  I knew then that I was hopelessly, dangerously addicted. Peter was going to ruin me. Burn away the good girl I’d always been, destroy everything I’d ever worked to become.

  I would gladly let him.

  CONFESSION EIGHTEEN

  Honestly, who needs to watch Asian dramas when you go to Sinclair Prep? —Anon

  *****

  “Nancy, is this true?” Alexander’s stunned voice called me back to the present. It was as though a spotlight had been turned on to me. Dozens—maybe even hundreds—of eyes were glued to me, but I barely noticed them. The only thing I saw was Alexander’s expression, an ugly mixture of hurt and betrayal.

  Oh, God, Alexander hated the Golden Trio. He hate
d Peter. He’d been about to go against his brother to protect my secret, protect me. Now he was going to hate me. And I deserved it. Deserved all of it.

  “Please tell me this isn’t true.” His voice, pleading, hardly above a whisper.

  “I . . .” Half-formed thoughts spun in my head, the panic keeping me from thinking clearly. Peter and I had so painstakingly kept our relationship a secret. Who had found out? Nobody had known—except Jamie. And Jamie was dead. Wasn’t she?

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down.

  Peter: Can we meet ASAP?? Green Bottle Coffee?

  “I have to go.” I shoved my phone into my pocket and ran out of the cafeteria, ignoring the cries of my friends behind me. Someone—Louisa, I dimly registered—tried to grab my arm, shouting something about a newspaper article, but I shook her off. My breath came up short. The logical part of my brain knew that meeting up with Peter was the worst thing I could do at this moment. But right now, while my whole world was burning down around me, the only person I wanted to talk to was him.

  I can give you everything, Nancy. Grades. Money. Status.

  Peter had promised me. Peter would make sure everything turned out okay. He’d promised.

  I spotted Peter the instant I walked inside the coffee shop. He looked the same as he had half an hour ago, except his hair was slightly more disheveled, the one imperfection in an otherwise flawless image.

  “Nancy. Sit.” Peter gestured to the empty seat in front of him. No panic showed on his face, though our secret was out and his job was on the line. Peter had never been one to show emotion. But even for him, this demeanor was a little too calm.

  “The Proctor. They found out about—about us. I don’t know how,” I blurted out. “I swear, I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “I believe you,” said Peter.

  “Y-You do?”

  “I know you. You’re not stupid. And this person—whoever they are—is exceptionally good at finding out other peoples’ secrets.”

  I exhaled, slumping back into my chair. “So, um . . . ​what do we do now?”

  “There’s going to be an investigation. Tomorrow, most likely first thing in the morning, Principal Bates will call you and me down to his office. I’m going to deny everything that happened,” Peter said, as robotic as though he were stating the weather. “As long as I deny it and you play along, we’ll both be fine. One photograph can’t prove anything. Plus, my family made a massive donation to the school when I graduated. They’ll listen to anything I say.”

  Peter’s words made perfect sense. But part of me felt the tiniest bit disappointed by his plan to deny the truth—to deny us.

  “Let’s just get through this,” Peter said, leaning in close. “After everything blows over, we can see each other again.”

  I nodded. This was temporary. One day, once we moved past this, Peter would be able to give me everything he’d promised. He’d show me off proudly to the world as his.

  “Nancy . . . do you regret what we did?”

  Surprised, I didn’t know what to say for a moment. As soon as I returned to school, I would be the target of rumors and insults. What kind of person wouldn’t regret all her destructive decisions that had led to this day?

  I swallowed, my mouth dry. “No. I don’t regret anything.”

  A small, satisfied smile traced Peter’s lips. He’d known exactly what I would say. Some twisted part of me was reflected in him, and some equally twisted part of him was reflected in me. That was what had bound us together against all rules, against all odds. Peter reached over and patted my hand. “That’s why I like you, Nancy.”

  Shivers, running down the back of my hand where he’d touched it.

  Peter left Green Bottle Coffee first. I waited fifteen minutes, which he’d asked me to do so nobody saw us leaving together. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, we’d clear our names. Peter would be fine after this. Everything would go back to normal for him.

  But me—I knew what the Proctor had in store for me next. The revenge note from my Diss Diary. The one in my handwriting that would be used to frame me for Jamie’s murder.

  No matter what, I would soon be sunk if I didn’t silence the Proctor first. Time was running out in this game of cat and mouse.

  But did I regret writing that letter, or being with Peter?

  Never.

  CONFESSION NINETEEN

  Final grades came out, so now I’ll be the one to go missing next, ’bye —Anon

  *****

  As Peter had predicted, the next morning Principal Bates called us to his office. The whispers and stares followed me down the halls all the way there.

  I’d spent entirely too much time in this office.

  Bates glowered over the top of his glasses. Peter and I sat two chairs apart in front of him, keeping an ocean of distance between us.

  “Mr. Shui. Miss Luo. Since last night, I’ve received several allegations from staff and students alleging an extremely serious, illegal relationship that occurred between the two of you. I don’t want to believe it, but there seems to be photographic evidence.” The principal raised a sheet of paper showing the photograph of Peter and me, blown up.

  “I can explain,” Peter said quickly. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Rage twisted Principal Bates’s expression. “Oh? You mean this isn’t a picture of you and your student involved in an intimate situation? Peter, I know your parents have given generous donations to this school, but this matter is out of my hands. It’s gone public now, and I can only do so much to hush up the details. I have to answer to the Board of Trustees, and to the alumni and families who donate to this school. There need to be consequences, visible consequences, or else I’ll have furious parents banging down my door. Do you understand the position I’m in?”

  Bates’s voice shook with anger. Now, even now, he was more concerned about the reputation, the prestige, of Sinclair Prep. More concerned about image than what was going on in these walls—these walls that saw and hid everything.

  Peter’s jaw clenched. He’d probably never been in so much hot water before. I didn’t see how he was going to deny his way out of this. The evidence was right there in front of everyone.

  “The truth is . . . ​Miss Luo made advances on me. I rejected them, of course, since I’ve only ever seen her as my student. Unfortunately, the photo doesn’t show that.”

  The world, stopping. The room, spinning. Peter, pushing me over, pushing me into the dark.

  “Miss Luo, is this true?”

  “I . . .” My mouth dried. “N-No, that’s not—” I faltered when Peter cut me a warning look. A look that said if I didn’t back up his explanation, I was going to regret it.

  My family made a massive donation to the school when I graduated, Peter had told me. They’ll listen to anything I say.

  Only now, I saw the thinly veiled threat behind those words. This school would listen to anything Peter said—over me.

  If I didn’t play along now, not only would the school punish me, but Peter would hate me too. He needed me, needed me to lie. After, he’d get us out of this mess.

  And the words, they came out of my mouth, a mouth that didn’t even feel like mine. Ghosts, forcing them from my lips. “It . . . It’s true.”

  There, the admittance Bates was waiting for. Open revulsion on the principal’s face. There, I’d done it. No amount of wishing would turn back time, could let me take back my confession.

  “You’re suspended from school and all school activities for one week, effective immediately.”

  The words sent me tumbling over the edge.

  “A—A week?”

  “Yes, and be grateful that I don’t expel you on the spot, or take away your scholarship. I’m only showing you lenience due to your outstanding academic record. I never expected this from you, Miss Luo.” Principal Bates shook his head. “You can forget about valedictorian. Sinclair Prep will never bestow that honor upon someone who so grossly violated the school rules.”r />
  A distant ringing in my ears. Bates’s walls, the school walls, closing in on me, tilting and squeezing.

  I was suspended. I wasn’t going to be valedictorian. I was now a student who’d inappropriately thrown herself at a teacher. Banned from student activities.

  “Wait—” I started to protest.

  “All school activities, Miss Luo.”

  “Mr. Bates, sir, perhaps you could make an exception,” Peter intervened swiftly. Peter was going to use his influence to get us out of this mess, I knew he would. “Miss Luo’s actions were inexcusable, but she already paid for prom, and students look forward to this event all year.”

  Even though there were still angry red splotches on Bates’s face, he glanced between the two of us and sighed, seeming to deflate. “Well . . . ​this is Miss Luo’s first violation. And, as long as you’re fine with her attending prom, Mr. Shui, I don’t see why I wouldn’t be,” said Bates. He threw me a sharp look. “Thank Mr. Shui for his generosity, Miss Luo.”

  “Th-Thank you.” My fingers curled into fists in my lap. I’d taken the fall for both of us. Getting Bates to . . . ​let me go to prom. It was the very least Peter could do for me.

  My plans, my achievements. Good girl Nancy Luo. The perfect image I’d built, everything I’d worked for, the title of valedictorian at my fingertips. It was all crumbling around me. Hadn’t some part of me wanted this, though? Some twisted part that delighted in this. Knowing all along that this was the only way it could end. Everything, up in flames. Everything, to ashes.

  We left the principal’s office and Peter walked me in silence to the classroom wing. The walls, torching me from all sides. Whispers, fast as wildfire, louder and hotter—­

  “Nancy. Nancy. Nancy!”

  Peter’s voice brought me back. We’d stopped in front of the school doors, and after darting a glance around to make sure nobody was around, he spoke in a low voice, in a voice that was like the hiss of flames. “From now on, this is how things have to be. You don’t talk to me, you don’t look at me. I’ll have my parents send along another donation to the school. Bates—back there, he had to be harsh, but he’ll come around once everything has quieted down. This is all temporary. Soon it’ll blow over, and everything will go back to the way it was before.”