Then Medusa became something different. Something vengeful and terrifying. She wasn’t vulnerable anymore. Instead she was something that men and gods tolerated even less. She was powerful. And they came for her still.
Cassie
We took a road trip,
leaving on the first day of summer
after junior year.
We only went
a few towns over
but it was the farthest
we’d ever gone
on our own.
We were officially seniors
so it felt like adulthood.
It felt like freedom.
I remember rolling Betty’s
windows down as we drove,
feeling the summer heat,
the hint of a breeze
and wishing it was forever,
our summer, wishing we didn’t
have to go back.
Beck dragged us into a shitty pub
and slipped fake IDs into
the back pockets of our jeans.
Got ya presents, she said.
The bartender wasn’t
stupid, but he also didn’t care,
and gave us whatever
was on tap.
We sat outside on their deck
where we could see the river.
We played we were drunker
than we really were,
cuz when you’re drunk
you can say things
and pretend it was the alcohol
and not honesty
putting those words
on your tongue.
Like Vivian apologizing
for being mean, uptight,
telling us how
she’s scared all of the time,
of wrong answers,
of falling behind,
of getting stuck in Bell
like her mom, who had,
from Vivian’s point of view,
given up everything
to raise her.
Like Beck telling us
maybe instead of a boyfriend
she’d get a girlfriend.
Someday.
And laughing into her beer
and spilling it
when I tackled her
in a vicious hug.
I threw my arms around her neck,
which I like to do a lot
because I’m the only person
Beck lets hug her
besides her grandpa.
He’s not overly affectionate,
but I am.
I’ve got hugs to spare
and they all belong to Beck.
They asked about Nico,
and the laughter died on my lips.
I didn’t know how to tell them that,
almost eight months in,
it all felt so wrong.
I said nothing about
how we were moving so fast,
faster than I’d expected,
but he told me he loved me
and isn’t that what I wanted?
To be loved by Nico Bell?
And when Nico called
right as the sun set on the river,
turning everything golden red,
I texted him that I was busy
with my friends.
But he called again,
and called a third time,
and a fourth, a fifth—
checking in with me
checking up on me.
I put my phone on silent
and when the texts started rolling in,
I turned it off.
That night we dyed my hair
a brilliant shade of blue.
I picked the brightest
color in the drugstore
on purpose,
to remind myself
I was still me.
To pretend that I
was still in control.
Vivian
VIVIAN WAS SITTING ON THE BENCH outside of the fire station, staring up at the water tower.
She had a photo of the third mural, the Medusa. She stole it from the Bell Review online, glad they’d posted about this one so she didn’t have to climb for a photo.
“Cassandra” had just crossed ten thousand shares and twice as many likes, and “Ariadne” wasn’t too far behind it. A celebrity had linked to the murals, drawing in a new audience, new comments. There were a lot supporting them. People echoing their call for gun reform.
But the murals, and the attention they were getting, were making a lot of people angry, too.
Vivian needed to post the next one, but she was nervous. It was exactly what she’d set out to do—tell Cassie’s story. Get people talking about Bell and its guns. But it was one thing to imagine it and another to see it happening.
Her finger was still hesitating over the button when Matteo stepped out of the fire station.
“Hey, V.” He sat down next to her, and Vivian locked her phone before he could see it.
Matteo nodded in the direction of the water tower. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Vivian agreed softly.
“I like the snakes for her hair.” He kept going, stretching out his long legs, nonchalantly brushing his hand through the mop of brown curls on his head. “You know what’s funny?” he asked.
“Hm,” Vivian said, her eyes on her shoes and nowhere else.
“That mural on the water tower looks so familiar to me,” he said, keeping his voice soft and casual. And that was what made Vivian suspicious.
He was trying to sound calm.
“Ah, I’ve got it,” he said, snapping his fingers. “That mural reminds me of our school play last year. Remember that? Cassie pulled us all in on that one. Made you help with the costumes—those long white Grecian robes, remember? And the backdrop on the stage was that picture of Cleopatra, all dark lines, and her big eyes staring out at the audience. That’s what Medusa up there reminds me of.”
Vivian looked up then, her eyes narrowing on him.
Beck had painted the backdrop for that play.
“Shit,” Vivian said, turning on the bench to face him. “Shit. Matteo. You know.”
“I suspected,” Matteo said, turning to her. “Now I know.”
Vivian covered her face with her hands. “Dammit.”
“Vivian,” Matteo said, reaching for her fingers.
He had to peel them down one at a time before she would look at him.
“I’m not going to tell anyone, V.”
“I know that,” she said. She did. She trusted Matteo. And Matteo had been Cassie’s friend, too. “But if you figured it out because of that play, then someone else could.”
“Oh,” Matteo said. “I didn’t figure it out because of the play.”
“Then how?” Vivian asked.
“It’s your hair,” Matteo answered. He reached out, grabbed the end of one of Vivian’s long dark braids, and held it up in the beam of the motion-activated spotlight that was fixed on the side wall of the fire station behind them. It flickered on with the movement.
The bottom half of Vivian’s braid had blue paint all over it. Cerulean blue. Just like Medusa’s braids.
“That could have been from a lot of things,” Vivian protested.
“I know. That’s why I said I suspected,” Matteo said with a cheeky grin, and Vivian smacked him.
“Matteo!” she said. “This is serious.”
“Yeah, V. It’s dead serious. But there’s no one else who would risk so much for Cassie’s memory. It had to be you two.” A moment of quiet passed between them. “They’re gonna catch you.”
“I can’t stop, Matteo. We need to hold them responsible.”
“Who?”
“Steven Bell, and everyone who works for him.” Vivian knew her mistake the moment the words left her mouth. “Wait, Matteo, I—”
“It’s okay, V. I get it.” But he rose from the bench and began to pace around.
Matteo’
s mom worked at Bell.
“I’m sorry,” Vivian said. “I didn’t mean—”
“You did, Vivian. At least own it. You mean everyone. You’re angry at the entire company, the entire town . . .”
Vivian was silent. It was true.
“And so am I.”
She looked up at Matteo. “What?”
“How many more do you have planned?” Matteo asked, head nodding toward the water tower.
“Three,” she answered.
“You’re risking it all for this, Vivian. What about school?”
“I’m not going, Matteo. I’m—I’m not going.”
“Christ, Vivian. You’re just gonna let them take everything from you?”
“Not everything. But right now? Matteo, I can’t see past this. This is what I need.”
He paced some more, and even though Vivian had known Matteo her whole life, she had no idea what he was thinking of her now. Matteo knelt in front of her at the bench. “Here’s the deal, V. I’m going to help.”
“Matteo—”
“You’re going to get caught. Especially if you keep posting to that account.”
“I’m spacing them out,” Vivian said.
“That’s not enough, and you know it.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“You need help,” Matteo said, putting his hand on her arm. “Let me help.”
Vivian looked up at him. “No way. We could get arrested. I don’t want to drag you into this.”
“V. You don’t have a choice here,” Matteo pointed out. “Besides, I want to do it. For Cassie. I cared about her, too, you know.”
Vivian had wondered, before. She noticed the way Matteo had looked at Cass across the lunch table sometimes. In the weeks before Cassie died, Vivian had seen them laughing together at her locker. She figured they were becoming friends, but now she realized it was maybe more than that.
“You don’t have to do this all on your own. I know what’s at stake, V. It’s worth the risk. But if you keep trying, you’re going to make a mistake and get caught.”
He was right.
And she was exhausted already, and they still had a while to go.
“All right. Okay. You can help,” Vivian said.
“Cool. Now give me your phone.”
“Why?” Vivian asked.
“V. Give it to me.”
Vivian unlocked the phone and handed it to Matteo. He went into her photos, chose a few of the Medusa mural, and texted them to himself.
“You paint. You photograph. You tell me what to say, but I’ll do the posts.”
“But then won’t you just get caught?” she asked.
“I’ll do them at the library in Tannersville,” Matteo said. “I’ll use a public computer. I’ll be in and out.”
Vivian had to admit, it was a better plan. If they broke up the tasks, and posted them from the library . . . then maybe there was less of a chance of it all being traced back to Vivian and Beck.
She nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Matteo.”
“And I want to help with the next mural.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You won’t once you know where it’s going,” Vivian said with a laugh.
“Try me,” he challenged.
Vivian didn’t answer. She just waved her hand in the air so the spotlight would flicker on again. It illuminated the bright, blank white wall behind them.
The wall that faced the police station across the street.
“Shit,” Matteo said.
We Can Be Heroes
Season 2: Episode 16
“The Parents”
MERIT LOGAN: Cassie Queen was born here in Bell in 2004. She was known for her wide smile, contagious laugh, and her exceptional talent in singing. Cassie had a beautiful voice and was performing in local talent shows and plays from the time she was just four years old. One of Cassie’s performances went viral when she was just fifteen, and in January of this year, Cassie was invited to study at Yale’s prestigious theater school, in addition to a few other notable acceptances. Today we are joined by Cassie’s parents, Patrick and Anna Queen.
MERIT: Thank you so much for talking to me today, Mr. and Mrs. Queen.
PATRICK: Thank you for having us, Ms. Logan.
MERIT: Before we get into a discussion of the lawsuit, I was hoping you could just tell me a bit about Cassie.
ANNA: Of course, yes. Cassie was one of those kids who was always rescuing something. Remember that, Pat?
[Soft laughter]
PATRICK: Of course. She had an aquarium in her room that was always filled with some creature she was determined to save—
ANNA: —she couldn’t save them all.
PATRICK: But she tried.
ANNA: Cassie did that with people, too. She had a million friends. She was very loved. I think because she was very loving.
MERIT: She sounds special.
ANNA: She was. But she was also vulnerable.
MERIT: How so?
ANNA: Cassie wasn’t naive. But she had a lot of faith in the goodness of people. In the idea of redemption.
MERIT: Do you mean Nico?
PATRICK: Not at first. He was a charming kid. Good student. And of course, we knew his family. We didn’t see what it was until Cassie was in too deep, and then . . . then we didn’t know how to get her out.
[Extended silence]
MERIT: Can we talk about the lawsuit?
ANNA: We are suing Steven Bell in a civil suit. And we’re also suing Bell Firearms, the company, for violating state gun laws.
MERIT: Let’s start there. What does that mean?
PATRICK: It means that the company was advertising their rifle irresponsibly. They were framing it as a weapon of choice. They advertised its deadliness, and they tied in that advertising with belonging to Bell. Like, you aren’t a real resident of that town unless you own one of their firearms. Like you aren’t a real man. It was toxic, at best. And at worst . . .
MERIT: Deadly.
ANNA: Exactly.
MERIT: Tell me about the lawsuit against Steven Bell.
ANNA: That one is about negligence. He left his guns in a place accessible to Nico.
MERIT: But the protection order that Cassie got . . . I’m looking at it now . . . didn’t request that guns be removed from the residence.
PATRICK: It shouldn’t have mattered. Steven Bell had an obligation to keep his guns safe from minor access. He failed in that duty.
MERIT: . . . do you think you’ll win? People have tried to sue gun companies before. It doesn’t usually go in their favor.
ANNA: We don’t . . . we don’t know. But we aren’t doing this for us.
PATRICK: Or Cassie, honestly.
ANNA: We are doing this for the next family. The next family whose child goes to school and doesn’t come home. This isn’t about us. It’s about accountability.
MERIT: Thank you for talking about this. I know it’s difficult. But I was wondering if, before we finish, we could talk about these murals in Bell.
ANNA: Well, we don’t know much.
PATRICK: Except—
MERIT: Except?
ANNA: It must be someone who loved her. Someone who agrees with us. That all of this isn’t about revenge against Bell Firearms. It’s about taking responsibility.
MERIT: You think the murals and the lawsuit are seeking the same thing?
PATRICK: I think we all want the same thing.
MERIT: What is that?
ANNA: We want our girls to be safe from anyone who wants to harm them. And we want all our children to come home from school at the end of the day. That doesn’t seem like an enormous, impossible request, but . . . but many people disagree with what we are doing.
MERIT: How do you know that?
PATRICK: Well, we’ve been getting death threats every day since filing the suit.
MERIT: You are going up against a powerful family. A powerful lobby, too.
/>
PATRICK: Cassie had rights, too. And we think that’s worth fighting for. Our grief is never going away. But maybe . . . maybe we can keep another family from going through this hell.
Beck
BECK WAS ON THE CREEPER, ROLLING around under Lola Talbot’s ancient hatchback, trying to find the source of the weird sound she said it was making.
There was sudden pressure on the end of the board, and Grandpa pulled her out from under the vehicle using his foot. He had a piece of paper in one hand, and the Bell Review in the other. It took Beck a moment to recognize the paper as their map of Bell, marked with the locations of all their planned murals.
Well, shit, thought Beck.
Grandpa was silent. Beck could only imagine his thoughts. Maybe he thought that first mural would be the only one. And hoped the same after the second one at the school.
But now they’d done three, and he was holding a map where they had clearly marked three more spots.
“Grandpa, I can—”
“No explanation necessary, Beck,” Grandpa said. “It’s all right here in front of me.”
He was quiet again, studying the map.
“Grandpa, can I just—”
“The side of the fire station is risky,” he said, tugging on the sides of his mustache as he thought about it. “But I’m guessing Vivian would know if you could pull it off, since she works there. But the one after that? Mural number five? That won’t do. You’ll get caught.”
“But . . .” Beck was confused. Grandpa looked up at her over his wide-rimmed black glasses, his mouth pursed and his peppered white mustache scrunched up, waiting for her to speak.
He was helping them.
“But the train station’s been abandoned for years,” Beck said instead. “It’s the most out-of-the-way spot we have on there. We were even thinking it was too out of the way.”
Grandpa shuffled over to his desk, pulling his oxygen behind him. He laid down the map, and beside that, the newspaper, and sat down on his bench. It had made the front page again—the water tower mural. Medusa and her snakes, gazing with unseeing blackened eyes over Bell.
Beck checked her phone, going to the Cassandra account that Vivian had made and clicking through. There it was, the same image as the paper. Vivian was on top of things.
We Can Be Heroes Page 8