by Shen, L. J.
“I found out who set us up, who made this shit with Lana leak,” I said, taking a moment to appreciate how dope the hashtag would be: #LanaLeak. Sailor didn’t share my admiration for my superior wit. She rolled her eyes, picking up the duffel bag I’d tossed away, and hoisting it on her shoulder.
“Not this again.”
I hit play before she could say anything else. The recording started. Junsu and Lana were talking somewhere loud. A diner, by the sound of customers and the gum-popping waitress who insisted on topping off their coffees every five seconds.
Junsu: I don’t know what it’s going to take for Sailor to give up competition. Maybe not ever. She want it bad. I try with her shoulder being inflamed, but she got it treated, refused to make it worse.
Lana: Well, you should’ve tried harder, Junsu. That’s what my team paid you for—to make sure this wouldn’t come to a point where I’d have to compete with her. Do you have any idea how pissed my sponsors will be if I don’t make it to the Olympics? There’s a lot on the line. Last I checked, I paid you the money for your kid’s college in full.
Junsu: I know. I thinking of other possibilities to stop her.
Lana: Lay it on me, old man. I’m willing to try anything at this point. I’ll lose a movie deal if I don’t get to the Olympics. It’s, like, in the actual contract with the studio, that I’ll make it to the Olympics. Can you believe it? People are trash.
Junsu: There is one more way, I think. She has agreement with the boy. The pretty, rich one. Secret deal. This how she got all the sudden publicity. I think maybe touching that will help. She live with him now.
Lana: What rich boy? What agreement? I knew it! I knew there was something weird going on. This bitch didn’t pop all over my newsfeed for no reason. Someone is pushing her. Who’s the guy?
Junsu: I have the name here. Wait. He has been coming to club lately. I think they may be couple. I think he is—how you say?—her Achilles’ heel. I think he the key to sorting this mess.
This was the part where Junsu must’ve passed his phone to Lana. Then:
Lana: Hmm. Hunter Fitzpatrick. Heard about him. Wouldn’t mind being his arm candy for the winter. Let’s set this up, Junsu. You do the dirty work and make sure I have access to him. I’ll bring the paps. Start working for what you were paid to do.
Junsu: Okay. Just don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt Sailor. She can still have next Olympics. Yes?
Lana: By the next Olympics I will be a gazillionaire and Sailor will be a virgin spinster who has nothing but archery in her life. I’ll be out of the game and deep into my acting career. She can have the Olympics then.
I ripped the AirPod from my ear, killing the recording. The rest was more bullshit Lana spewed about Sailor, which she didn’t need to hear. Sailor’s huge jade eyes stared up at me, the gold and gray in them glittering. Every muscle in her body looked tight and strained, and I found this moment to ponder the stupidest thing in the universe—if we ever had kids, what eye color would they have, between my deep blue and her wild green?
How about focus on her not wanting to murder you first, old sport?
“Hell if I know how he found out about the agreement.” I shook my head. “But there you have it.”
“God, Hunter. I told him. About our agreement. About…” She cupped her mouth, keeling like she was about to throw up. “I did this. I told Junsu. And he used it against me. Lana bribed him. Jesus Christ. My own trainer…” She trailed off, straightening her spine and pacing back and forth in the parking lot, pulling at her short tresses.
It was a lot to take in. Sailor and Junsu had worked together for a long time. I rubbed her back, surprised that she let me. Then again, she was in shock. She kept saying, “He betrayed me” over and over again. Then the tune changed to, “And you betrayed me, too.”
“Now, hold that thought.” I grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her to sit on some random car’s hood.
She slapped my hands away, scowling at me. “I know what I saw.”
“No, you know what you think you saw. Around the time your shoulder was injured, I started suspecting Junsu’s motives. His behavior seemed at odds with that of a trainer who wanted his athlete to succeed. I already had recording devices and Sherlock Holmes’ equipment coming out of my ass, so I figured—what’s another offense to my list of growing breaches of privacy? I was getting good at playing super spy. I wired him up unbeknownst to him, just for shits and giggles, and have been listening to him periodically. One in the piggy bank. The other in a watch that’s a replica of the one he put on his desk for a second to try my Rolex.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “You came to visit Junsu?”
I nodded. “Pretended to take an interest in private lessons. Scared the bejesus out of him when I said I wanted to learn so I could survive post-apocalypse.”
That earned me a faint smile. Tough crowd.
I soldiered on. “These recordings won’t hold in court, aingeal dian, because my ass had no business wiring him up. The day you so-called caught Lana and me doing it, I came in because Junsu said he had something to show me. It sounded a lot like a threat, and I worried it was about you. Only it wasn’t Junsu who walked into his office. It was Lana. And she caught me messing with his drawers. It looked bad. Like, horrible. She thought I was trying to find juice on him—which was true—and had me by the balls. But I knew the wire in the piggy bank was still working, so I pretended to cooperate with her, knowing I could prove to you that nothing happened. Also, she gave me the information I was after.”
I hit the play button again on my phone, this time on another trimmed section of the recording. The AirPod still in Sailor’s ear began to play.
Lana: Busted, pretty boy.
Hunter: You scared the living shit out of me. I was just on my way out.
Lana: Where do you think you’re going? We both know you’re not supposed to be here.
Hunter: Junsu called me.
Lana: To go through his drawers? I don’t think so.
Hunter: And what brings you here? Got a taste for older men?
Lana: Only if they serve my purposes.
Hunter: Hey. What the fuck are you doing?
Lana: Texting my friends from the local newspapers our whereabouts. And Junsu, too, to tell your girl to come over here and see this. We’re about to raise a scandal, baby.
Hunter: Why would Junsu answer your ass? I’ve met bricks less tough than him.
Lana: Because we’re working together on something—no point in keeping you in the dark. You’re about to become a part of my plan. Lose your shirt.
Hunter: Lose your entitled, shit-eating grin first.
Lana: Meow. I wouldn’t cross me, pretty boy. I’m a girl on a mission, and right now, you’re it.
Hunter: God, you sound like a B-grade porn adaptation of the Power Rangers. I mean, it sounds like something I’d be into, but surprisingly, it’s not.
Lana: Lose. The. Shirt.
Hunter: What if I say no?
Lana: You leave here in handcuffs and even your daddy won’t be able to explain what you were doing breaking into a locked drawer. Especially seeing as you’ve already had a brush with the police this year. Rape charges, right?
Hunter: They were dropped. And if I say yes?
Lana: Sailor drops out of the race, and I leave you to pick up the pieces. Although I must say, I’m the better option.
Hunter: Let’s agree to disagree. Just so you know, I’m not going to fuck you, kiss you, or touch you. So let’s get that out of the way.
Lana: (laughs) I’m all set in that department. Save your charity fucks for someone who needs them, like Sailor. Playing pretend is enough. She’ll be coming here soon. Lose the shirt, stud.
I stopped the recording again, raising an eyebrow. If that wasn’t sufficient proof I hadn’t been porking her archenemy, I didn’t know what was. Problem was, I couldn’t exactly relay all this shit to her on the phone or via text messages. Because, illegal.
Sh
e chewed on the skin around her thumbnail, then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Another month together wouldn’t have done us any good. Not me, anyway. I am already in l—” She stopped herself, breathing hard, realizing what she was about to say.
“You’re what?” I pressed. “What did you want to say?”
“Never mind. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We had a month left, and I don’t want it. You’re free of the contract. I’m sure your father has already told you your inheritance won’t be affected.”
My father didn’t tell me shit, actually, since I’d been dodging his and my mother’s calls since this blew up, but whatever. I didn’t have time to correct her. I wanted to tell her so many things. But when she hopped down from the hood and made her way to her car, I couldn’t stop her.
Couldn’t stop her because she was right. A few more weeks wouldn’t matter.
Right because sure, I didn’t sleep with anyone else, but that hadn’t meant I wasn’t a dick to her a million other times.
Right because she had bigger fish to fry. Namely Junsu and Lana.
She got into her car. I had this idea to do what I’d threatened to do all those months ago, when I first came here to corner her—stand behind her car and stop her from leaving. I no longer believed she would run me over, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to be a self-serving piece of shit.
If she didn’t want to be with me, I couldn’t force her.
And that realization hit me like a ten-ton brick.
As soon as her car raced out of the parking lot, I took my phone out and texted her. Figured she’d be quick to lift my block once she knew I had information that could be useful to her regarding Lana and Junsu. Turned out, I was right.
Hunter: A few more weeks. Come on. For old times’ sake.
Sailor: Sorry. You don’t fit into my world anymore.
Hunter: I’m not a fucking loveseat, Sailor.
Hunter: Although…
Sailor: I know, I know, I can sit on your face anytime.
Hunter: Dick, too. <3
Sailor: Stop texting me.
Seven years ago
I raced through the thick of the woods, the moss and winter mud soft beneath my feet. My boots sank deeper into the muck with each step I took, and I fought against the weight of gravity, desperate to flee. Footsteps splashed fast and swift behind me. My heart smashed against my ribcage, like a prisoner shaking the bars. Let me out, it screamed.
It was a mistake—an awful, unfortunate mistake.
The dog wasn’t supposed to be there. The range had been completely empty before I drew the arrow, blindfolded and laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing.
The moment played in my head, over and over again. Fellow students asked if I could do it. I said I could. I knew I could. Someone wrapped their bandana over my eyes tightly. Then they put him there when I couldn’t see. Tied him to the target using ropes they stole from a nearby ranch. The helpless yelp was my first clue. The last breath he drew, crying as the arrow pinned him to the target. The blood across the bullseye. The chunks of his flesh. I ripped the bandana from my face, letting out a scream. All the others were laughing.
They called Lana. “Your dog,” they said. “She killed him.”
I ran faster when I thought about her face, her tears. I heard the sound of additional footsteps ricocheting through the tall trees. Boots. Splashes. Calls.
More people were coming.
My mother’s voice, shrill and panicked, echoed my name. “Sailor!”
I focused on the horizon, the tall pine trees and dark green wilderness. I had this idea in my head that my parents would stop loving me if they knew what I’d done.
My calves burned, my quads quivered, and tears blurred my vision. I stumbled over a thick log hidden by autumn leaves, flying to the ground, headfirst.
Mud filled my face, and my knees hit something hard. The hot, wet pain of a deep scrape and fresh blood sliced through my leg.
I coughed the dirt out of my mouth, but it clung to my tongue. My palms burned from trying—and failing—to soften the fall. Quickly, I gathered my limbs, the way you do scattered belongings, and stood up on shaky legs. I was about to turn around when I felt the tip of an arrow pressing against my spine. The person behind it, holding the bow and arrow, cornered me against an oak tree. My face was to the trunk. I was so scared I couldn’t breathe.
“He was my everything,” I heard her say, and my heart lurched and twisted, coiling into itself in dozens of knots that made it almost impossible for it to beat. Lana Alder had a small, jarring voice and a faint Swiss accent. “My uncle gave him to me when I moved here from Zurich. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t speak the language. It was just Spot and me. He was my best friend. You took away my best friend. I have no one now.”
She dug the arrow into my back. Even if she released it from her bow, she still wouldn’t have enough momentum to kill me. But she could put me in a wheelchair. Mom and Dad had made me watch a lot of documentaries about archery and the danger of it before they let me practice.
And you went and let people blindfold you and killed a dog.
I wanted to choke on the cold, damp mud still in my mouth. It tasted salty, bitter, and ashen. It began to rain, but the woods were so thick with trees, I barely felt it on my skin. The scent of petrichor rose to my nostrils, and for the first time since I was born, I wished I were dead.
Mom’s voice called for me again. Dad’s, too.
“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to croak. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him. I was blindfolded. I had no idea. I didn’t… I couldn’t…”
What made things worse was I’d heard Lana had only agreed to come from New Mexico to camp in Massachusetts if she could bring Spot with her. That’s how much she wanted him here. They’d had to issue a bunch of permits for the mutt to walk around on the premises. I guessed whoever took care of him wasn’t paying enough attention.
My body felt stiff, like a salt statue, hard but easily dissolved. I was going to lurch and throw up the minute the shock subsided. My mother’s voice grew near. I knew she’d find me. We had this thing between us—one not all children had with their parents. It was a connection that felt like a part of me was still in her womb. We could sense each other from miles away. Every time Mom and I hugged, we called it recharging. We plastered our stomachs together in bed and said Bzzzz the way the phone did when you plugged it in. Then she’d tell me she was so glad I was her family, which was a beautiful thing to say, because it made me feel like she would have chosen me even if I weren’t hers.
Lana didn’t have a choice.
She didn’t have a mother, either. Her parents had died in a car accident, and her only relative in the world had agreed to take her reluctantly, because she came with a healthy sum of money and assets.
Lana lived with her uncle and his much younger girlfriend, the one Dad said had enough plastic surgery for three desperate housewives of Orange County.
Tears began to leak from my eyes. I never cried.
“I hate you,” Lana whispered softly into my ear. “I hate you, Sailor Brennan. I don’t even like archery all that much. I came here because my uncle wanted to take Miss Deidre on a vacation in the Cook Islands and thought it would be a good opportunity to throw me somewhere where other people could watch over me. But I promise you, now I will make it my mission to take what is yours.”
I thought about all the times she’d called me ugly this weekend, said my face put her in a bad mood. And I realized she didn’t think it was an accident. Nothing could make her believe it was. She thought I’d deliberately taken away the thing closest to her heart as a part of a game, and now I had to pay.
“You want to be an archer? I will become a better one. You get a pet? I’ll kill it. A boyfriend? I will steal him. Whatever you acquire in life, Sailor, I will take it from you. Beca
use you took something from me.”
The arrow dug deeper into my back. I tried to twist and turn to get away from the pain, but it followed me everywhere. She pressed harder.
“Stop,” I croaked. “Please. I’m sorry. It was an accident. You’re hurting me.”
Lana didn’t deter. I felt the arrow piercing my skin, reaching my bone. I hated begging, hated lowering myself to asking for mercy. With a yelp, I turned around and pushed her with all my strength. I let out a feral growl that felt like it wasn’t even coming from me. She flew back, collapsing to the mud. I ran toward her, realizing I’d pushed her by the arrow.
I crouched down. “Lana? Oh my God. Are you okay?”
What have I done now?
She lay on the bed of yellow and orange leaves, blinking lethargically at the raining sky—the way I’d seen that boy from the castle do all those years ago—defying the rain, and the hail, and the wind. Standing up to the darkness.
The arrow was stuck in Lana’s stomach. A red stain began to form around it through her fleece jacket.
No. No. No.
“Never…forgive…you.”
Those were her last words before my parents found us.
Before she was rushed to the hospital.
Before Dad made the entire thing go away, making sure no one knew what happened—about dead Spot, about how Lana suffered a bowel injury called peritonitis, where some of the contents of her intestines spilled into her stomach and caused an infection she suffered from for weeks. She was bedridden, alone in the hospital, with her uncle only returning after he’d finished his vacation, during which he’d married his girlfriend.
I knew Lana would make good on her promise to get back at me.
I never adopted any pets.
Never had the courage to fall in love and get attached to boys.
And I bided my time until I knew I could win.
The day of my match with Lana, I came to the range an hour early, knowing she’d be practicing. I was right. I lurked under the roofed stands, watching her draw an arrow and send it spiraling to the inner red mark of the target. A clean kill. Lana was good, at least in all the places she wasn’t bad.