by M. K. Easley
“And again you're judging them, yet you walk around pining for Jamestown Academy’s very own offensive lineman, who is one of them! The hypocrisy never ends with you!”
“Oh, I am so sick of this!” Tristan shouted, throwing up her hands. “All year so far you’ve been needling me and needling me and for the last time, Ember, Beckett is nothing to me, he's just my senior project partner! How many times do I have to tell you that? Nothing!”
Evander and Olivia had gone quiet, Tristan realizing too late why Olivia was furiously shaking her head, and from a few feet behind Tristan, a voice spoke.
“Ouch.”
Closing her eyes, her stomach dropping into her toes, Tristan slowly turned to see Beckett, who had just come around the corner of Rise and Grind.
“Hi, Wallaces. Pardon the interruption; I didn't realize it was y'all having a shouting match on a public street.” Beckett nodded at the trio, clearly trying to look good-natured. He scratched his eyebrow. “Tristan, I came to check if you were still working, but I see your shift is over, so I'll just see you at school tomorrow instead.”
“Beckett--”
He left quickly, not stopping when she said his name. Tristan watched him go for a moment before looking at Evander with tears in her eyes. Shaking her head, she took off after Beckett.
“You are such an asshole,” Olivia said, crossing her arms and glaring at Evander.
“She said it, not me,” Evander retorted, but he looked just slightly uncomfortable.
“What is your actual problem, Ember?” Olivia demanded.
“I'm just frustrated! I'm trying to live and enjoy my life, and I'm so tired of being unsettled because she's constantly walking around unsettled because she won't just come out and say that--”
“Ember, don't say it. Mom and Dad could be listening,” Olivia said sharply, and he rolled his eyes.
“She won't just come out and say what we know she's going to tell us in a few months anyway, and we're all suffering for it.”
“She's your sister, Ember, and you know what happens when someone makes the decision she's going to make, so maybe you can stop thinking about yourself for one second and act like her brother!”
“Beckett!” Tristan called again, but Beckett, who was walking very swiftly, got into his car, closing the door. He pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, never even looking at her.
Tristan watched him go, burning with embarrassment and regret. What had she done? She'd been so annoyed with her siblings and their constant teasing about Beckett that she'd snapped, wanting to convince them once and for all to leave her alone about him. How could she explain that to Beckett without him calling bullshit? She would, in his position.
Tristan, emotion making her stomach churn violently, began walking, leaving Evander and Olivia in the parking lot around the corner. Dusk had fallen and night would too, before she got home, but she didn't care. The evening air was crisp -- Louisiana crisp, anyway -- and Tristan used the long walk to organize her thoughts and plan what she'd say to Beckett at school tomorrow. She was prepared to grovel if she had to; she just needed to fix it.
The long, tree-lined road to her house loomed ahead of her, and Tristan randomly remembered Olivia telling her a while back that she had a bad feeling that something was coming up the pipe. Nothing had ever materialized, thankfully, but Tristan still suddenly felt uneasy, looking over her shoulder and picking up her pace once the sky had turned indigo. A car rolled by slowly, and Tristan recognized it as Evander’s. She hoped he'd keep going, and he did. Good. She wasn't sure when she'd be ready to talk to him again anyway.
Tristan breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the property gate behind her. Trying to shake off her nerves, she walked up to the house, greeting her parents once inside. She chatted with them for a few minutes, half-wondering where Olivia and Evander were, before excusing herself to go shower. Her siblings left her alone for the rest of the night, which was fine with her, though she hoped Olivia knew she wasn't mad at her.
Tristan fell asleep immediately upon getting into bed that night. She slept soundly and could not remember her dreams once she awoke.
Chapter 17
On Wednesday morning, Tristan took a deep breath and entered a wing of the Academy she generally tried to stay out of, except to go to class. It was the wing that contained the lockers of Beckett, Emmeline, Tara, Eloise, Jason, and Tyler, and, as she headed to Beckett's locker, where he stood getting his books, people nudged each other and whispered. As usual, Tristan ignored them, noticing with relief that only Eloise was present, not the whole unholy trinity.
“Hi Beckett,” Tristan said to his back, and he paused, not turning around.
“I… I wanted to talk to you about last night. I'm sorry, for what you overhead. For what I said.” Tristan's voice was quiet, trying to hang onto a shred of privacy. “I--”
“You know how they say drunk people are the most honest?” Beckett asked, interrupting her. He slammed his locker door closed with a bang that had people turning to look at them, and crossed his arms over his chest. “And drunk people say alcohol makes them say things they don't mean, but the reality is they do mean them, they just lose the inhibition to keep quiet when they drink?”
Tristan nodded, a puzzled look on her face.
“Well I have this theory that siblings come in a close second to honest drunks. No or low inhibition, so you're more inclined to tell them the truth than you would anyone else.”
“That… seems like a reach,” Tristan said, frowning. “But--”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jason Dalton chose that moment to approach, interrupting loudly. “Tristan, you're standing a little close to my man Beckett here, looking a little tense. You trying to put a spell on him or something?”
“Go away,” Tristan said, giving Jason a nasty look.
“No no,” Beckett said, holding up his hand. Jason looked as surprised as Tristan did by that. “He doesn't have to go anywhere. We're walking to class together.”
“Look, can you please just meet me at the bench after school, to talk?” Tristan pleaded in a low voice, searching Beckett's face, which was cold and closed off. She was already bright red with embarrassment, but if she could just get him to agree--
“The only business we have worth meeting at the bench for is our project, and since we just met on Friday, it's a little soon,” Beckett said flatly. “I know you have no social life, so you probably have more material to add after this weekend, but I actually do have a life outside of school, and I'm not gonna be ready with more until after break.”
Tristan jerked back, stung. Beckett looked like maybe he regretted what he'd said, but at Jason's laughter, his face quickly shifted back into a neutral expression.
“Oh shit son, you just got a one way ticket to voodoo doll town,” Jason drawled. “Lookit that face.”
Beckett was looking at that face, and he hated what he saw. He hated himself for the pain etched into every one of Tristan's features by his words, so much like those his friends hurled at her regularly. But she'd hurt him too, this time, and so while Beckett told himself to back off, that she'd gotten the message loud and clear, he was experiencing the temporary, terrible desire to make her hurt as much as he was.
“This is how it's going to be then?” Tristan asked, gritting her teeth and ignoring Jason again.
“Why would it be any other way? I'm nothing to you and you're nothing to me. We're just project partners. Right?”
“Off you go, freak, before you make us late for class.” Jason made a shoo gesture with his hands.
Tristan looked at him and then at Beckett, nodding as she backed up. She felt the backs of her eyes prickling, but she would die before she cried in front of either of them. She turned quickly and, as she did, noticed Tyler watching the scene unfold, his face somber. He looked at Beckett, then back at Tristan like he wanted to say something to her, but Tristan rushed past him, the laughter in the hallway ringing in her ears as she fled.
***
The rest of the day was nearly unbearable. Word had spread quickly about the embarrassment Tristan had made of herself that morning, and it was just juicy enough to chum the waters. A spell of sorts had been broken when she and Beckett had turned their backs on each other, a protection Tristan hadn't realized she'd been under was gone, and even underclassmen were making cutting comments whenever they saw her. Eva Revet, regardless of the fact that she herself had been dumped by Beckett over the weekend, outright laughed in Tristan's face when she'd passed her in the hall. Tristan spent her lunch break in a bathroom stall, crying quietly into a wad of paper towels to muffle the noise.
To their credit, Olivia and Evander had been telling people off left and right, which helped, but not much. Emmeline was gloating like Christmas had come early, and that emboldened the people around her. Beckett steadfastly ignored Tristan for their remaining classes together, though once or twice she could have sworn she saw him glancing over at her during English class, and he'd been conveniently close by when Theo Fitelson had begun leering at her on the way to Chemistry, which he'd stopped immediately upon seeing Beckett.
Tristan could not get out of school fast enough at the end of the day. It was as she rushed to the parking lot, by way of the east side of the building that faced the woods and was not often trafficked, when she was intercepted by Emmeline and her crew. She'd taken that way because it was the quickest route to her car, which Tristan figured Emmeline had guessed she'd do.
“Tristan, you look terrible,” Emmeline said in mock surprise, as her friends formed a loose circle around Tristan. “Bad day?”
“What do you want?” Tristan asked through her teeth.
“I heard what happened this morning with Beckett, and I'm going to be honest with you Tristan, I'm scared.” Emmeline's green eyes were rounded, her face earnest.
“What?” Tristan frowned.
“I'm scared, for Beckett. I pray for him every night, but I'm scared that my prayers won't be any match for a scorned witch.”
“Oh my God with the witch thing again.” Tristan laughed humorlessly. “Tell me Emmeline, how is it that I'm a freak and a weirdo and all manner of things because you made up a rumor that I'm a witch, but no one bats an eye about you believing witches exist?”
“Because they do. I see evil in your eyes, Tristan Wallace, it surrounds your whole family like a storm cloud they can't get out from under, and I also know what I saw in the fifth grade.” Emmeline stepped closer to her.
“What?” Tristan asked again, her frown returning. “What are you talking about?”
“Class trip to Brentworth Park. You wandered off and I followed you because I wanted to know what you were up to. I saw you parting the flowers as you walked, without touching them, so they jumped right back into place behind you unharmed. I saw you.”
“That did not happen,” Tristan said, though she was sure it probably had; she hadn't exactly been careful about where she'd practiced her ability back then. “And if the flowers were moving, it was probably on the breeze.”
“Liar,” Emmeline hissed. “You're an evil force in all of our lives, always have been, and I know Beckett is in danger now that he's gone and rejected you. Well I love him and I also know we're gonna get back together no matter what weird choices he makes this year, so I'm not gonna let anything happen to him, or to anyone in this town, even including your own family.”
Emmeline nodded at her friends, who closed in around Tristan.
“What are you doing?” Tristan asked, the hairs on her arms rising.
“Everyone knows every witch has a mark from the devil himself. We're gonna find yours, and we're gonna expose you to everyone for what you really are.”
Before Tristan could react, Tara, Hattie, Bailey, Eloise, and Georgiana were on her. They grabbed her arms, yanking off her backpack, and pulled her hair, pinching and slapping her.
“Ow!” Tristan cried, struggling. “Get off of me! Are you crazy?”
“Get her to the ground,” Emmeline instructed calmly. “She'll be easier to manage that way.”
The group wrestled her down, punching and kicking her, and Tristan thrashed about, yelling. Georgiana and Hattie pinned her arms out to her sides, and Eloise sat on her legs. Tara reached down, ripping open Tristan's blazer and blouse, exposing her bra and her torso.
“Look everywhere,” Emmeline commanded, sneering as she watched her friends do her dirty work, her arms crossed neatly over her blazer.
When they began to pull at her skirt, began trying to force her knees apart, Tristan began to scream at the top of her lungs. Georgiana clamped her hand over Tristan's mouth, and Tristan bit her.
“Fucking bitch!” Georgiana yelled, punching Tristan as hard as she could in the face. Pain exploded behind her left eye, and Tristan cried out again.
Tristan looked around desperately as the girls relentlessly kept up their attack, noticing that Eva was slowly passing by. Their eyes met, and Eva smirked, deliberately turning her head and continuing on her way. Angrier than she could ever remember being, Tristan thrashed and screamed like a woman possessed, which only made things worse for her.
“HEY!” A nearby voice bellowed ferociously, and the girls looked over to find Beckett tearing towards them. “HEY!”
Beckett plunged right into the middle of them, causing them to scatter away from Tristan, who he immediately pulled to her feet, closing her blazer with one hand. He brought her to him and held her fast against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She was shaking like a leaf, scratched and muddy and red in the face, and she clung to him like a life raft.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” Beckett’s eyes were wild as he yelled the only thing he could manage at Emmeline, who, after a moment, bolted, leaving her friends to fend for themselves. The girls, however, were hot on her trail, disappearing within seconds.
“Tristan!” Olivia was dashing across campus to Beckett and Tristan, and Evander caught up to her easily. “Oh my God, Tristan!”
“I've got you,” Beckett murmured, holding Tristan tighter as she began to sob. He pressed his lips to her temple. “I'm so sorry, Tristan. I'm so sorry for all of this. I've got you now.”
“Get away from her!” Olivia screeched, her eyes like fire as she pointed at Beckett. Evander looked like he was ready to kill, and Beckett figured he probably could in that moment, they both probably could, but still Beckett couldn't bring himself to let Tristan go.
“I didn't, it wasn't me, I--”
“Bullshit it wasn't you!” Olivia gently pulled Tristan away from him, passing her off to Evander, but she was almost vibrating with anger as she shrieked at Beckett. “You threw her to the wolves this morning, all because your ego was bruised! You're just as responsible for this!”
Evander swept Tristan away while Olivia shielded them, and Beckett looked after them, desperately wanting, no, needing to see Tristan's face. To know she'd be OK. To know they hadn't broken her. He took a step forward.
“Don't look at her!” Olivia, still yelling, stepped closer to him, blocking his view. For someone so much smaller than him, she sure could be awfully intimidating. “Don't think about her, don't talk to her, don't even dream about her! We thought you were good, but you're just as rotten as the rest of them! All of you can go straight to hell!”
“Olivia--” Beckett's voice broke, but Olivia wasn't going to hear it. She spun on her heel and sprinted to catch up with her siblings, putting her arm around Tristan when she had.
Beckett watched them go, his heart racing painfully. He was out of breath and shaking, everything having happened so quickly. One minute he'd been clear on the other side of the building, getting ready to go home, and the next he’d heard Tristan screaming like she was right there in the hallway with him. He'd run then, unsure where she was and how he even knew it was her, but in no time he'd rounded the corner to see her being attacked while Emmeline watched. There hadn't been a thought in his head other than to help her,
and his body ached where he'd cradled her now that she was gone.
The most painful part, however, was that Olivia had been right; Beckett was just as culpable as Emmeline and her crew. His bruised ego had clouded over everything, creating a dangerous path for Tristan to walk amongst their classmates. The popular crowd didn't take kindly to one of their own being hurt, but more than that they lived to go for the jugular -- these two things combined created a perfect storm that Tristan had never seen coming.
Beckett knew what he had to do. Picking up Tristan's discarded backpack, he went up to the school and to the Dean's office, where he dropped off the bag and reported what had happened. Dean LeFebvre, looking deeply disturbed, thanked Beckett, letting him know that she would handle the situation. Before he'd even left the office, the Dean was on the phone with the school's video monitoring service, advising she needed the afternoon's footage pulled.
***
Olivia sat in the back of Evander’s car with Tristan for the ride home. She kept her arm around her battered sister, who rested her head on Olivia's shoulder, unnervingly silent. Evander kept looking at them in the rearview mirror, visibly shaken, which was new for him.
Olivia couldn't believe she and Evander had been too late. By the time Tristan’s distress call had come through, and they had summoned into their minds what'd happened as they ran across campus, Emmeline and her friends were already running every which way through the school's parking lot, Eva was nowhere to be found, and Beckett had Tristan in his arms like he was some kind of hero and not the catalyst for the whole attack. Not hearing her in time to intervene was proof, Olivia realized, that Tristan really was separating from the community. By the time she made the official decision, Olivia and Evander, along with Sol and Umbris, wouldn't be able to hear her at all.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and Olivia quickly brushed them away. Evander pulled up to the house and jumped out of the car, opening Tristan's door and helping her out. Before Olivia had exited, Sol and Umbris were by Tristan's side, guiding her into the house.