Boy in the Mirror

by Robert J. Duperre

  “Douchebags are cowards.”

  They arrived at the Cottard estate two minutes later. Jordan pulled into the driveway, being careful not to ram any drunken stragglers. When he parked behind Todd’s van, he took a moment to absorb the scene while Andrea gawked silently. There were kids everywhere, more than he’d ever seen at a party before. The steam of their combined breath misted in the mansion’s spotlights. A few partygoers were passed out on the spacious lawn, summarily ignored by their friends. It couldn’t have been more than thirty degrees outside. Jordan worried they’d get hypothermia.

  “Damn,” Andrea muttered.

  Jordan looked at her, and in that moment felt immensely thankful for Andrea Newsome. She was smart, and he related to her in ways he couldn’t with his other friends. If she hadn’t been like a sister to him, they might’ve made a perfect couple.

  “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll check on the girl and come right back. If Annette calls again, tell her we got here.”

  “Okay.”

  He kept the engine running so Andrea didn’t freeze and stepped out of the car. He had to shove his way through the mass of people in front of the house. He finally climbed onto the porch, which was mostly clear, and approached the huge front doors. Jordan grabbed the handle, turned it, and pulled. It only opened halfway before he met resistance. Raucous music and shouting could be heard from inside.

  A kid in a Freddy Krueger costume looked at him through the gap. His eyes twitched beneath his mask. “No costume, no admittance,” he said.

  Jordan recognized the voice. “Let go of the door, Mike.”

  “Sorry Jordan. Drew’s orders. You know the rules.”

  “I’m not staying. Just came to check on someone. Drew’s precious rules won’t be broken for long.”

  “I…‌I can’t.”

  Jordan narrowed his eyes and spoke in a low growl. “Let go of the goddamn door.”

  The costumed kid faltered for a minute, then turned to speak with someone else. Jordan tightened his grip on the handle and yanked as hard as he could. Costumed Mike tumbled out onto the porch and fell to his knees.

  “Ouch! Hey!” he yelped.

  Jordan stepped past him, up and into the house. “Sorry,” he muttered. Those who’d been lingering by the entrance gave him a wide berth as he stalked in.

  The mansion was packed. It was hot and reeked of body odor, stale liquor, and puke. Music blared and exuberant shrieks filled the air. People stumbled all over each other, hammered out of their minds. Somewhere in the house, glass shattered. Jordan thought of how much money it would cost to clean this mess up, and felt disgusted. Why were people with money allowed to mindlessly piss it away when people like his parents had to fight every day just to make ends meet? He thought of Andrea’s comments during the drive up Highland. It was completely unfair.

  Someone bounced into him, and Jordan shoved the kid away and looked around. The east wing of the mansion was closed as usual, but the west wing was wide open, people streaming in and out of it. Jacqueline was probably with Todd in Mr. Cottard’s “quiet room,” where Drew sometimes entertained his closest friends during these things.

  “Jordan?” shouted a girl’s voice from behind him. “Jordan!”

  He wheeled around, hoping it was Jacqueline, but of course it wasn’t. Instead, he saw Phoebe Wolfe bouncing toward him, dressed as Wonder Woman, the costume super-tight. She had a red plastic cup in her hand, its contents spilling all over the already-filthy hardwood floors.

  “Jordan!” she said again, just before she collided with him. Her arms wrapped around his back, spilling beer or whatever else was in the cup all over his shirt. He worked his hands into the space between their bodies and shoved her away.

  “Hey, not nice,” she shouted over the music. She wagged her finger at him, wobbly on her feet.

  “Chill out, Phoebes,” he said loudly. It sucked to have to raise his voice like that. “I’m looking for Todd. You seen him?”

  She waved her hand. “Somewhere.”

  “Why aren’t you with him? And Drew?”

  “I don’t want a part…‌of all that.”

  “Of all what?”

  She stumbled into him again. “Who cares…” she hiccupped, “about any of it? What about me?”

  “Go away,” Jordan muttered. He held her back with one arm and stood on his tiptoes, staring at the entrance to the mansion’s west wing. Phoebe struggled against him. The sooner I get out of this madhouse, the bett—

  He saw movement from above and turned quickly. Phoebe lost her balance and fell, cackling and crying at the same time. Jordan wandered away from her, eyes drawn upward, watching as a muscular kid in a black tuxedo climbed the staircase in the northwest corner of the massive common area. The tuxedo-wearer reached the top step and headed along the balcony toward the bedrooms.

  It was Todd, dressed like a dime-store vampire.

  And in his arms was a floppy-headed Jacqueline Talbot.

  Todd passed by Steve “Flub” Linscomb, and the two grinned at each other like thieves. Todd then entered one of the bedrooms, the fourth along the balcony, gazing out over the crowd triumphantly before shutting the door.

  Jordan’s heart started beating quicker. He stormed across the congested room, shoving people out of his way. When he reached the staircase he took two at a time, almost slamming into the wall when he reached the top. He sprinted along the balcony. The balustrade looked much too short; it’d be so easy to shove someone over the side.

  He skidded to a stop in front of the bedroom Todd had entered and grabbed the knob, but it was locked. Jordan didn’t knock, instead stepping back to the balustrade, taking a deep breath, and ramming his shoulder into the door as hard as he could.

  The weak jamb splintered on impact, the door swung wildly inward. Jordan stumbled into the room and braced himself, and then saw Todd gaping at him, a comical expression of shock on his face. He’d taken off his faux tuxedo coat and was leaning over the bed. Passed out on the mattress, dressed in barely-there lingerie and a pair of shiny black tights, was Jacqueline. Jordan glanced to the left, where a video camera sitting atop a tripod lurked in the corner.

  Jordan’s gaze flicked between the unconscious girl and the camera a few times before settling on Todd. The kid gawked at him, eyes cloudy, obviously drunk. Jordan’s anger bubbled up his throat, driven by the bass beat thrumming through the floor.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he screamed.

  Todd grinned, but it quickly disappeared. He stepped away from the bed. “Hey man, what’re you doing up here? Thought you didn’t come to these things anymore?”

  Jordan took a step toward him, hands balled. “You’re a bastard,” he seethed. He gestured to Jacqueline. “Seriously?”

  Todd folded his arms, grinned. “Hey, my negro, she came like that. What you think she expected to happen?”

  “No one wants this.”

  Jordan shoved Todd out of the way, snatched up the video camera by the tripod, and slammed it into the wall over, and over, and over again. Plastic shards went flying. The plaster wall dented and cracked. He screamed like a raging demon had been awoken inside him.

  “Hey, cut the shit!” yelled Todd. “That’s my camera!”

  Todd grabbed his shoulder from behind and tried to stop him. Jordan, hopped up with adrenaline and anger, spun around with his fist leading. He connected with Todd’s nose with a crunch. A spike of pain streaked all the way to Jordan’s elbow, but he didn’t care. He looked on as the blond douche staggered backward, swearing and clutching at his face.

  Jordan didn’t let him retreat. He was on him a moment later, shoving him against the wall. He landed another punch to the left side of his face, snapping Todd’s head to the side, followed by one to the solar plexus. Specks of blood and a gasp of rotten breath left Todd’s mouth, which only made Jordan angrier. He reared back and buried his fist into his supposed friend’s gut as hard as he could. Todd doubled over and vomited all over the bedroom
rug. He then collapsed to his hands and knees and vomited again.

  Jordan shook all over as he watched Todd fall and land in his own puke. The kid’s face was a mess, all pulped on the left side, his nose crooked and leaking blood. Tears streamed down his face as he whimpered. Jordan looked at his own hand. His knuckles had split, and his brown skin started developing a purple tinge between his thumb and forefinger.

  Jordan’s anger faded and fear reared its ugly head. He’d just messed up Drew’s best friend, which probably meant his letter of recommendation was caput. Why?

  He glanced behind him at the beautiful young girl who lay vulnerable on the bed, eyes closed as she fitfully snored.

  That’s why, he thought.

  Jordan wrapped Jacqueline in a blanket and lifted her. She was surprisingly heavy, and his aching hand barked at him along with his shoulders. Jacqueline moaned in his arms. He walked past the smashed bedroom door and back into the party’s strobing lights.

  If anyone noticed what was going on, none showed it. He lugged Jacqueline down the stairs, slipping and sliding through the careless partygoers on his way to the front doors. On three separate occasions, he almost dropped his delicate package.

  Eventually he made it outside. Andrea leapt from the car, opened the back door, and helped him load Jacqueline inside. Andrea then sat in the backseat with the unconscious girl’s head in her lap. Jordan handed her the towel he used to wipe down the windows to place beneath Jacqueline’s head, in case she puked.

  He pulled out of the Cottard driveway as fast as he could, drunken idiots be damned. Someone thunked off the rear of his car. Jordan glanced in the rearview mirror, watching as Andrea stroked Jacqueline’s hair, pleading with her not to get sick. His phone was on the seat beside him, and he picked it up. He flipped screens as he drove and tapped on Annette’s name in the recent calls list. The phone barely rang once before the girl answered.

  “Annette, it’s Jordan,” he said. “We have her. We’re coming over now.”

  CHAPTER 28

  A burning sensation churned in Jacqueline’s stomach, forcing her awake. She sat up with a start, dizziness overtaking her. Her gag reflexes kicked in, and she hitched.

  Steady hands guided her into a lean, and she emptied the contents of her roiling stomach. It stunk so badly.

  When she was done puking, those same hands helped her lean back. A soft cloth was pressed to her lips. Jacqueline groaned. Her body felt hollow, like someone had scooped out her insides with a spoon. A massive headache pounded just behind her closed eyes.

  “Jackie, you okay?” asked a familiar, female voice. She slowly opened her eyes and saw a vague face surrounded by a mane of white before another attack of queasiness came over her. Again she leaned forward and puked.

  “Take it easy, it’s okay,” said another voice, this one soothing and male.

  She took the speaker’s advice, sitting with her head between her knees, panting. Someone rubbed her back. After a few minutes she felt a little better and sat up, surprised to find herself sitting on the porch steps in Annette’s front yard, two heavy blankets thrown over her shoulders. It was nighttime, the half-moon shining above her. Annette sat beside her, as close as could be. Jordan Thompson, who’d helped her with her locker once, was to her left. It was his hand that rubbed her back. And directly in front of her, hovering in the walkway a few feet from the steps, was Jordan’s friend Andrea, who gazed at her with one eyebrow raised. Jacqueline looked down to avoid the girl’s stare, but seeing a puddle of her own puke was worse.

  “Feel better?” asked Jordan.

  Jacqueline grunted, brought her hands up and rubbed her temples. She tried to think of how she’d gotten here, but the last she remembered, she’d been walking through the party at the Cottard estate with Todd. She’d entered some sort of study. After that, everything was blank.

  She took a deep breath and moaned out, “What happened?”

  “You were an idiot,” said Annette.

  Jacqueline whimpered, arm crossing over her stomach. She saw Jordan glare at Annette, who raised her hands in surrender.

  Jordan slid from sitting and kneeled in front of her, carefully avoiding the smear of puke. He placed his hands on her knees and looked directly into her eyes. The sincerity of his gaze was unnerving.

  “You almost had something…‌pretty terrible happen,’ he said.

  “What?”

  Jordan sighed. “You got really drunk. You passed out. Todd carried you up into one of the bedrooms. There was a video camera in there. He was gonna…‌you know…” He paused. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, things might’ve gotten…‌bad.”

  Jacqueline gaped at him. Little bits and pieces started coming back. Knocking back shots of vodka. Downing drink after drink. Todd kissing her, his groping hands. She vaguely recalled feeling excited about all of it, and she glanced underneath the blankets to examine herself. Her outfit was still on her, but it reeked of liquor, which made her gag. She closed the blankets and shivered when the biting, early-November air prickled her skin.

  “Shit,” she said.

  There it was again, another mistake. How many times was she going to make the worst choice possible? Annette had warned her about Todd, had told her not to trust him, but she’d followed her gut instead of her head. And it had almost gotten her an embarrassing experience at best, a horrifying one at worst. Just like with Billy and Tyler. Papa Gelick’s words echoed in her head. She slumped and started crying.

  It was Annette who leaned into her first, the tiny girl holding her close and gently stroking her slick hair. Soon Jordan joined in, his strong arms wrapping around the both of them at once. Andrea let out an empathic cooing sound.

  “It’s not your fault,” Annette whispered. “He had no right.”

  After a time, her heart stopped thudding and she wiped her nose. Annette and Jordan allowed her space to reposition on the step. Jacqueline’s face felt bloated.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Annette, and started bawling all over again.

  “It’s okay,” Annette replied, wiping the tears from Jacqueline’s cheeks as they appeared. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  She vehemently shook her head. “Uh-uh. None of that. You made a mistake. We all do.”

  “Me more than most.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Jacqueline wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Though Annette was small in stature, she had a way of looking so strong and confident and forgiving that made her seem much bigger. Jacqueline felt insignificant by comparison.

  “Why do you even care?” she grumbled. “Why’re you even my friend?”

  “Because you’re Otaku,” Annette said matter-of-factly. “The Clan takes care of their own.”

  Jacqueline chuckled. “That include telling the future to keep your stupid friend out of trouble?”

  Annette pointed to her own temple. “Nope. That just takes a working brain. Anyone could see a mile away that Todd was no good. He’s like Annie Leonhart from Attack on Titan. So I brought in reinforcements. Know what I mean?”

  Jacqueline nodded and turned to Jordan, acknowledging Andrea from the corner of her eye. “That where you come in?”

  He nodded. “Annette told me her worries. I acted. Simple as that.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I don’t like innocent people getting hurt,” he said with a shrug, though the way his eyes shimmered, there seemed to be more to it than that.

  A buzzing sound vibrated through the cold night air. Annette groaned and lifted Jacqueline’s flip phone. She looked at the display screen, grimaced, and then passed it over to Jacqueline. The plastic felt cold and impersonal in her shaking hands.

  “Your aunt,” Annette said. “She’s called like six times.”

  “Oh.”

  Jacqueline stared at the phone. The time in the display window said it was past three in the morning. She looked up at her friend and the young man who
’d saved her, pleading with her eyes.

  “Sorry,” said Annette. “She called earlier asking for you. I…‌well, I told her where you were.”

  Jacqueline swallowed her tongue.

  “She’s worried,” Annette continued, a grin stretching across her nymph-like face. “I mean, obviously. Oh, and Jackie…‌not a good idea to use me as a cover story.”

  Jacqueline expected her friend to do a one-eighty right there and turn her away for good, but Annette did no such thing. Instead, she offered Jacqueline one last gentle caress and stood up.

  “You really need to get going,” she said, gesturing to the stinking mess on the front walk. “And I need to clean this up before my mom gets home in a few hours.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “C’mon,” said Jordan. “I’ll take you.”

  They rode in silence. Jacqueline sat in the passenger seat with Andrea behind her. Jordan’s eyes were intent on the road, the radio of his old Buick turned so low that the music coming from the speakers sounded ghostly. Jacqueline peeked over at him every so often. He was much too mature for an eighteen-year-old boy. Even when he smiled, there seemed to be a slight clenching of his teeth like he was uncomfortable. There was also a sadness about him. She hadn’t noticed that before during their brief interactions at school, and seeing it now made her feel sad too.

  The car pulled up in front of Mitzy’s house. The bay window was full of light, the shades rustled. Jacqueline trembled and looked down at herself. “I should’ve changed,” she said.

  “A little late now,” Jordan said.

  “I know.”

  The front door of the house opened. Mitzy stood in the doorway, foot tapping, arms crossed over her chest. She had the same sort of impatient look about her that she’d had when she first appeared on the Gelicks’ doorstep, only this time she wasn’t smiling.

  “You should probably get going,” Andrea said from behind her.

  “Yeah,” Jacqueline mumbled. “Thanks you guys.” She reached for the door handle and paused.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jordan.