Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  “I’m fine,” I tell them, gently pushing Jane’s hand away. “I had a minor car accident is all.”

  “A car accident?” Jane echoes, moving around me to look out the window at Little Bee. She glances back in my direction, dark hair perfect and coiffed, brown eyes shimmering with worry. Mama Cathy hurries into the kitchen and comes back with a warm rag to blot away the blood. “How did that happen?”

  This isn’t going to be easy, I think, as Mama Cathy fusses over me.

  “Come sit down first,” she says, giving Jane a look. “She needs to rest. You seem okay, but I’m sure it was a frightening experience.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t.” I wet my lips as Cathy continues to dab at my forehead and Jane wrings her hands like she isn’t sure what to do.

  “Let me make you some tea,” she says, and this time, I don’t protest. I want her to make me tea. And ‘ants on a log’. I want her and Cathy to fuss over me and ask me questions and worry. Because they care. Because I’m lucky to have them. Because I love them.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable,” Cathy tells me, her hands splattered with paint. She smells like lilacs and clay from the potter’s wheel, and I want nothing more than a hug from her. So I give her one instead, and she hugs me right back, kissing the top of my head. “I love you, sweet girl,” she tells me, stroking my purple hair back. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I love you, too,” I whisper, thinking that this may be the hardest part of my day. No, knowing it is. I hate what my plan is; I hate it. And I don’t want to do it, but I’m starting to realize there is no other choice, not if I want this time loop to stop, not if I want to free my friends and family from living on repeat.

  Jane comes back with a tray, laden with tea and fresh cream, and a small plate, covered in celery with peanut butter and raisins.

  I almost lose it right then, almost decide that I’d rather live on repeat than never see this moment again, never smell Cathy’s lilac scent or see Jane’s face creased with love and worry.

  “I appreciate you,” I tell her, catching her hand before she can move away. “And I love you, too. I love both of you, and I’m grateful.” The tears well up then and Cathy laughs, reaching over to give me another hug. She rubs my back in big circles and sweeps some hair away from my wet forehead. “Thank you for letting me be myself and encouraging me to make art. Thank you for making everything in my life both functional and beautiful.”

  “Honey,” Cathy coos, but then I look up and see that Jane—stoic, uptight, perfectly coiffed Jane—has tears in her eyes. When Cathy lets me go, I stand up and throw my arms around my mom, burying my face against her neck, and doing my best to hold back the sobs as she gives me a hug unlike any other I’ve ever had from her.

  “I love you, too, Karma, and you’re so welcome. You’re so very welcome.”

  “You know,” Cathy starts as Jane and I hold each other, mother and daughter wrapped up in the most perfect embrace I’ve ever had, “we don’t have to talk about the accident today.” Jane releases me and I step back just in time to see her give her wife a look. “Mark my words, we will talk about it, but it doesn’t have to be today. There’s magic in the air. It is Devils’ Day, after all. It’s a time for sorcery and art and enigmatic things. Come, let’s cast a spell with paint and canvas.” Cathy stands up and offers her hand, and I take it. With my other, I grab Jane’s hand, and it’s like I’m five years old all over again.

  That, that is some Devils’ Day magic right there.

  Every once in a while, it feels good to be a kid again.

  The dress I sewed for last year’s Devils’ Day party is even more beautiful than I remember it, and my lips turn up in a gentle smile as I finger the see-through lace of the formfitting gown. It's half black, half white, split right down the middle. The sleeves are long, but there's a slit in the skirt that allows me to move freely, despite the fabric that hangs to the forest floor, a train of lace and tulle that drags behind it. After seeing Barron's curled coattails, and the way they pick debris up as he walks around in the woods, I've decided I want that, too. To collect some of the forest and add it to my ensemble tonight.

  I weave a crown out of some dried roses my mothers give me, braiding the stems together and clustering the dead blossoms on one side. They used to be red, but now that they're dried out, they're more of a red-brown color, like rust, like old, dried blood.

  Slipping the dress over my head, I call one my sisters in to help me button it up.

  “There are so many buttons,” Emma whines after slipping just two of the silk-covered buttons through the holes. Katie takes over, her hands more patient than our sister's, steadier. On the easel beside my desk, the canvas with the stars and the moon sits, wet with paint.

  Finished.

  The last strokes I’ll ever make catching the light from the late-afternoon sun.

  I’ve added a few things, people mostly. Their tiny figures stand near the tree, looking up at the moon. They each wear a mask, but we can’t see it. Instead, it’s just the backs of their heads, and the little pieces of elastic. Because you never really know what’s a mask and what’s not, what someone’s true face is, unless they strip themselves bare and show you.

  There are three boys in the middle, two little girls holding their mothers’ hands to one side, and a pregnant girl leaning her head against her friend’s shoulder, her blue hair tinted silver under the moonlight. There’s even a woman with bloodred hair nearby. She stands near the girl with white-blonde hair, and the one with raven locks that fits more easily into the picture than she rightfully should.

  I’ve painted everyone who’s touched me during this journey, whether for good or bad. Because every person on this canvas has mattered. They’ve all made a difference, their actions influencing me just as much as mine did them, even if they weren’t on repeat.

  “It's like a wedding dress and a funeral garment all mixed into one,” Cathy says, leaning in my doorway as she watches Katie finish. I stand up and turn to look in the full-length mirror in my room, the gown's lacy length clinging to my curves, my purple hair loose and wild, as one should be on Devils' Day.

  Katie balances on the bed and carefully places the crown of thorns and roses onto my head.

  “A wedding and a funeral,” I repeat, watching myself in the mirror, big gray eyes in a pale, heart-shaped face, full lips, a small nose.

  “I'll light some candles, and we can do a quick spell before you head out the door,” Cathy says, moving down the hall as I turn and wrap my arms around Katie, closing my eyes against a sudden rush of fear at the unknown.

  “I love you, kid,” I tell her, and she goes very, very still in my arms, like she can sense where my trepidation and fear are coming from. “I want you to remember that, always.”

  “I love you, too, Karma,” Katie replies, and when I pull back from her, I see that her eyes are the same as mine, just a little fearful, but also depthless, hope burning deep within. She and I are more alike than I ever realized. Tucking some dark hair behind her ear, I swallow back the tears. Tonight is not a night for tears.

  I don’t have the time or luxury to indulge them.

  “And me?” Emma asks, bouncing off the bed to rush over to me. She throws her arms around my waist and squeezes me as hard as she can, knocking the breath from my lungs. I laugh, reaching down to run my fingers through her silky hair. “I love you; do you love me?”

  “I love you more than the moon and the stars,” I tell her, and she grins, looking up at me from blue-gray eyes. “And thank you for letting me help you with the mural today.”

  “No, thank you,” she says, giving me another squeeze. “You painted better than me or Katie anyway.” Emma releases me and then grabs a lollipop off my nightstand, one I don’t remember putting there before. In fact … it looks almost like the one Barron gave her on the day the boys and I had tea together.

  I exhale sharply as she unwraps the candy and turns to look
at me.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, blinking long lashes at me. “You look like you might cry.”

  “I’m fine, I promise,” I tell her, giving her a kiss on the top of the head.

  “Karma, your friends are here!” Jane calls out, and I sigh, glancing at myself one, last time in the mirror before I slip my glittering black mask over my face, the antlers tall and curved above my loose, purple hair.

  I head down the hall and find all three boys waiting, dressed in their Devils’ Day finest.

  “You actually came,” I say, when I get close enough that they can hear me, but my mothers can’t. “I’ll admit: I wasn’t sure that you would.”

  “It’s Devils’ Day,” Barron tells me, reaching out to cup the side of my face, his eyes dancing with a dozen shared memories I’m not sure he’s even aware of. “It’s a night for the wicked. We three are wicked, and we’ve come to take you away.”

  Raz snorts and shakes his head, offering up a single rose.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to today,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me close. He stops just short of kissing me when he notices my moms hovering nearby. “But either way,” Raz leans down to put his lips near my ear, “I like it.” He presses a quick kiss against the side of my face before pulling back.

  I clutch the rose against my chest as Calix and I lock gazes.

  “I talked to Erina,” he tells me as I stand there, waiting, my heart racing like crazy as I study his dark eyes beneath the black leather of his mask. “She isn’t going to do anything with …” He pauses and looks over at the moms again.

  “Oh, come on, Jane,” Cathy murmurs, dragging my mother down the hall so we can have some privacy. “We can do the spell another time.”

  But, of course, we can’t.

  She just doesn’t know that yet.

  And no fucking way am I going to tell her.

  I turn back to Calix and see that his lips are turned up in a slight smile. A real one, this time.

  “She isn’t going to post the video … at least not tonight. I don’t know how you knew about it, but I’m glad.” Calix pauses and exhales sharply, like this is a hard thing for him to talk about. “Apparently, her mother is sick, and she’s going through a lot. I’m not sure that she even really wanted to post it. I think she just wanted someone to pay attention to her or talk to her. Considering she followed me to Crescent Prep in some fucked-up attempt at making us the perfect couple, I guess it was only fair that that person should be me.”

  “Well then,” I say, holding out my arm and letting him take it. “I’m glad you did.”

  “Are you sure you’re not pulling a Devils’ Day prank on us?” Raz asks as the four of us head outside and down the ramp toward the Aston Martin. “Because there’s just something all of this that feels … different.”

  “You’re not wrong about that,” I tell him as I move around the front of the car and Barron steps up to open the door for me. “Because everything will be different after today.” I smile just before I climb in the car, pausing to look up at the crescent moon and the splatter of beautiful cosmos across the night sky. “Everything.”

  Once we hand over our phones to the gatekeeper, Calix heads up the winding road to the parking lot, taking up the frontmost space that’s been left open specifically for him and the other high-ranking members of the Knight Crew.

  That’s expected.

  What isn’t expected is for me to climb out with them.

  Masked faces turn to look at us, a sea of goblins and faeries, ogres and demons, devils and pixies alike. They watch as I approach the bonfire with an entourage of wickedly beautiful men in tow, pausing in their revelry and debauchery to stare at us.

  “Well?” Calix snaps, getting that haughty air of superiority that I’m so used to. “What are you waiting for? This is supposed to be a fucking party.”

  A moment of silence passes before all the still forms, the ones dressed in goddess-like shrouds or floor-length coats of velvet, they start moving again, as if some cosmic hand has just pressed play.

  Luke appears out of the crowd, dressed in her sequin shirt and bow tie made of sticks and leaves. She’s got Sonja with her, both of them looking at me like I’ve sprouted horns.

  “You …” My best friend squints her brown eyes behind the ugly façade of the goblin mask. I've managed to render her completely speechless. I’m going to miss you, Luke, I’m going to miss you so hard that no matter how many lives I live, you’ll always be my best friend.

  “I'm here with three devils?” I ask, holding my hands out to either side, palms up, as if to say here's my harem, bitches, deal with it. “If that was your question, then yes, yes I am.”

  If I can only have the boys for one more night, then so be it.

  They’ll always be mine, whether there’s a tomorrow for me or not.

  “Get used to it,” Raz sneers, sauntering over to the table laden with alcohol and grabbing an entire bottle of vodka for himself. It has bits of flower petals floating inside of it, just like the one we drank inside the school bus, the school bus that we painted filthy with our lascivious acts. “Your girl over there just asked us to treat her to an orgy this weekend. How could we possibly refuse?”

  “It's not as bad as it first appears,” I murmur, snatching Luke's arm and dragging her away from the bulk of the Knight Crew. “Were you able to talk to Pearl today?”

  “Look.” Luke points over to one of the logs where Pearl sits, draped in my dress and nursing a drink. April sits close by, one elbow on her knee, a smile on her face as the two of them talk in low murmurs. They’re both teen moms—well, one is a soon-to-be-mom—whose families want to take away their babies. I’m sure they have a lot to talk about. “I had April deliver your message since she’s in the same math class as Pearl; they’ve been thick as thieves all day.”

  A smile takes over my lips, and I exhale, closing my eyes against the flickering orange fingers of the fire for a moment. When I open them, I find Luke staring at me strangely. She can’t know how hard all of this is for me, how fucked up it is that I’ve finally managed to master my environment—just like she said when I told her about the time loop—when everything has to come to an end later.

  The universe does not allow things to be tied up in a pretty bow.

  Everything is going right which means … something must go horribly wrong.

  Balance.

  Sacrifice.

  I try not to be sad, but the pain clogs in my throat anyway, turning this night into a hazy dream, one that I know I’ll always remember. Whether I live another life, or I end up in heaven or hell, I’ll hold onto it, keep it close to my soul and cherish it forever.

  “How did you know about me and Sonja though?” Luke asks, blinking rapidly before turning her attention back to the boys. Barron's flipped his sketchbook open, and this time, he doesn't bother pretending that he isn't drawing me. His tongue runs over his lower lip, making it really, really hard for me to look away. “They told you, didn't they?”

  “They didn't, actually,” I tell her with a grin, pouring some cranberry juice into a plastic cup. I don't even have to grab the vodka; Raz turns his bottle over, filling my cup to the top.

  “What are you two whispering about over here?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my waist and smirking at Luke. “You know your girl here confessed her love to me this morning?”

  “She … what?” Luke chokes out, but then Sonja appears, throwing her own arm around Luke’s waist and kissing her on the mouth. “Sonja,” she grinds out, flashing a look of panic my way.

  “I know you guys think you were subtle about your relationship, but I saw the way you looked at each other. I’m not surprised that you’ve been sleeping together.” I give Sonja a look. “But if you hurt her, I swear to god I will come for you.”

  “Oh, will you?” Sonja quips, flashing me a saucy smile from beneath her red leather mask. “That’s quite the challenge. How about I promise to leave you be if
Raz promises to leave Luke alone?”

  “I hear she paints tiny orc figures and stages mock bottles with them,” Raz says, squinting like he can’t quite remember when or how he heard that before. I smile, hoping that’s not the only memory of me from the time loop that he can recall when he thinks about my face or my art or our back and forth quips to one another. “So, that’ll be a hard promise to keep, but I’ll sure as fuck try.”

  “You better try hard,” Sonja purrs as Barron and Calix step up to join our group.

  “Shall we take this to the train car?” Calix suggests, wearing a crown made of purple flowers and thorny twigs. Today, he’s got on an emerald green velvet coat, black jeans, and white boots with bones hanging from the laces.

  “Let’s,” I say, making a small sound of surprise as Raz scoops me up in his arms and carries me over there. I let my head fall back, opening my arms wide and laughing as the smell of bonfire smoke curls around me. Barely visible through the trees, Cami Alhambra and her friends chant around a spell book, several of them dancing in voluminous skirts and nothing else, their breasts bare under the moonlight.

  I wish them the best of luck with their magic as Raz carries me up the steps of the train car and sets down, pulling me into his lap. Barron sits beside us, his sketchbook open to a page I well recognize: the one of me on the podium, his head buried between my thighs and beneath my skirts.

  “That’s a pervy thing to draw,” Raz tells him as Calix takes a seat on his other side, and Sonja and Luke stretch out on the floor, cuddled up together with a bottle of whiskey.

  “I could think of worse things,” Barron drawls, flipping to a drawing of us on the school bus, the four of us naked and connected in the most carnal of ways. Raz curses under his breath, but Calix … he actually laughs. And it doesn’t sound fake or forced. The sound of it makes my heart crack a little as he looks at me.

  “Is this what you had in mind when you told us all you loved us this morning?” he asks, and a naughty grin takes over my lips.