“I’ve gotten so used to responding to all sorts of different names, that sometimes I answer people who aren’t even talking to me.”
I joined her laughter, surprised by how natural it felt, not forced at all.
“I was at the store the other day,” she continued, half a smirk on her lips, “buying a box of cereal for my little brother, and I heard a woman’s voice behind me say ‘Brittany’ and I didn’t even think; I just turned around and said, ‘Yes?’ at the exact same second her daughter said, ‘Yes, mommy?’”
My hand went to my mouth reflexively to cover my laughter. But Bevenny was laughing freely. She pulled a blade of grass near her shoe and trailed it over the top of her sandaled foot. “It wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, except she smiled very nicely at me, and asked, ‘Oh, is your name Brittany, too?’ And it was either lie, or look like a lunatic.”
I leaned in, curious. “What did you end up deciding?”
Her eyes flashed to mine, glimmering. “Neither. I went for option C, and said ‘Almost’, then grabbed the box of cereal and got out of there as fast as I could!”
We were both laughing hard enough to be taken by surprise when suddenly there was movement all around us. People began to rise like toadstools emerging from the earth, groaning and complaining that fire drill had been way too short.
“Already?” she asked somewhat surprised and looked around. “Did they even take attendance?”
I was wondering the same thing privately and started at our similar trains of thought.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said.
As she stood, raising a hand to her brow in a makeshift visor, I noticed she was the exact same height as me; though with a slightly fuller frame. I gazed in the same direction, doing the same to shield against the sun.
“Well, that served absolutely zero purpose then,” she put in quietly. “I thought the idea was to simulate a real emergency?” I felt her shrug and exhale, not indifferently, but confoundingly.
She turned to face me. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Foster. Maybe I’ll see you at lunch today?” she asked, smiling as she swatted loose debris from her shorts.
“Yes—I’ll be there,” I said without thinking.
I realized she’d thought I’d made another joke when she gave a small laugh, and waved goodbye.
I waved back, watching as she carefully made her way back down the grassy slope, leaning backward to avoid slipping. Slowly, I lowered my arm. I stood where I was for a moment, very still, the calm eye of the storm of people milling around me. It occurred to me then, what had just happened; I had made a friend. On my own. Without trying to.
Meeting Jake and Emily had been fluky and fortuitous—an event that I was eternally grateful for—and Maddie was the result of Jake; however, had Jake never broken that glass figurine, or Emily found that Care Bear shirt she liked, chances are I would know them as well as I had the first time I saw them. It was a possibility I rather not think about. Still . . . the last time I made a friend the old-fashioned way, I still fit in that Care Bear shirt.
~
Things continued getting better from there. It was nearly a perfect morning with Dominic, as good as his word, met me before every class. And though there was no person I rather have beside me for those five minutes, I feared the consequence of his company was a succession of tardies he would ultimately have to indemnify. I said as much after third period, to which he laughed, telling me not to worry—that he was a very fast runner.
It wasn’t until we broke for lunch and Dominic was held up for someone unknown reason that the day began to take a halting turn for the worse.
On the way into the bathroom, I bumped into someone on their way out.
“Vanya!” I said, both alarmed and surprised. I jumped back immediately, removing my foot from the top of her silvery ballet flat. “I’m sorry,” I said, moving further backward so she could exit. Only . . . she didn’t. One arm forming a barricade across the entrance, she remained wedged in the doorway. A few girls came up from behind, asking to be let out. She permitted this, keeping her cool blue eyes on me the entire time. I tried to get in before she lowered her arm, but failed. Her arm collided with my collarbone like a crowbar. I stepped back, rubbing the sore spot.
“Is it even possible for you to walk without running into everything?” she asked, her voice light and deceptively calm.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Which was true; my mind was on Dominic, hoping he had not gotten into trouble after all.
“You should be forced to where a bell around your neck,” she said disdainfully, “Or there should be whistles and sirens that sound when you’re coming. That is what they do when wild animals escape from their cages, right?”
Her skin was a translucent white. I could see the vein work at her temples, fine blue veins and thicker ones disappearing into the slightly perspiring brow. There were faint purple circles under her eyes, giving her ethereal appearance something macabre. My heart lurched unexpectedly. Vanya looked both severely undernourished and enervated. I reminded myself that additionally she was likely very hungry. Strands of pale blond hair escaped from the tight coil on the back of her head, stiff and straight like static electricity had grabbed a hold of her. It wasn’t normal for Vanya to look anything but pristine, but currently she looked harried and worn out. I wondered when was the last time she ate something and allowed the sustenance to remain in her stomach long enough to nourish her.
“Hello!” She slapped her hand against the door, shouting loud enough to cause me a jolt. “You’re such a freak,” she said emphatically. “Do you even hear people when they talk to you?”
“I hear you,” I replied quietly, not knowing what else to say, how I might appease her so she would grant me passage. “I’d like to use the bathroom, please.”
“No.” The look she gave me sent a chill up my very stiff spine. “You can come in when you’ve answered my questions.” She propped her shoulder against the door, making a show of getting comfortable. Sending a repugnant glance up and down the length of my body, she asked as if very curious, “Why are you so weird? And were you born with that nasty hair?”
My feet were leaden, but I forced them backward, and when I thought I could move without tripping, I bolted, taking off at a brisk pace. This profligacy of invective felt different than Vanya’s usual defamations. Likely it was not me she was angry with, but I didn’t think that was going to stop her.
The hallway was crowded with people on their way to lunch, but the air changed when Vanya came close. I could feel the electric charge of her fury. She was on my heel, grabbing the loop on my backpack.
“I am not done with you, Beast,” she spat, and I felt myself being yanked backward.
“Vanya, let go,” I cried. She did, and I stumbled trying to keep my balance, ending up with my back against the locker-wall.
She stepped in front of me, eyes glassy and wild-eyed. In anger she had regained some of her color, bright pink spots staining her cheeks. “I don’t get it.” Her voice was a hissed whisper. “What is he seeing in you, I wonder. You’re not a very good singer, and you’re not even a little pretty.”
She stood only a few inches from me and I could smell an acrid stench on her breath, the smell of bile. I shuddered involuntarily and began breathing through my mouth. “Vanya . . . stop.” My throat was tight and broke on her name.
She laughed. “You’re plain and weak and weird.”
Seeing her hand rise up, I flinched, preparing for her to strike me. She laughed at my fear, and when I opened my eyes her hand was suspended near my cheek. “I’m not going to hit you, Beast.” Gently—almost intimately—she took a curl between her fingers, examining it closely.
She met my eyes, nothing but naked hate behind the glossy blue irises. “It’s softer than I would have thought,” she allowed, “but not any less ugly.”
“Don’t touch me,” I said, jerking back, both my voice and
my legs tremulous.
She sneered, becoming amused and casting tyrannical a glance over her shoulder. “Where’s your Beauty now? Why doesn’t he come and rescue his Beast? She reclaimed the curl and pulled—hard—managing to come away with a few hairs.
My eyes stung with pain. “Stop it,” I demanded, trying to sound menacing and not as scared as I was.
“Stop it,” she mocked, shrilly.
“Let me go, Vanya.” I tried to back up; however, there was nowhere to go. She had me pinned. Her body was frail, but her ballerina’s muscles were exceptionally strong—plus she had the benefit of rage and hate.
“You’re hurting me,” I told her. “Stop, please.”
Vanya pushed me harder against the lockers, breathing carrion into my face through a deranged smile. She grabbed a fistful of my hair with her bony hand and clenched hard. Just about to rip a clump from my scalp, a voice matching Vanya’s in ferocity and intimidation spoke clearly from behind us.
“Hey, Tinkerbelle. I really, really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I was shaking so badly, fear ringing sonorously in my ears, that it was a moment before I realized it was Emily. The rush of relief brought a fresh set of tears to my eyes.
Vanya’s froze. I watched as a notebook of expressions fanned across her face. Her eyes remained fixed on mine, burning loath, a rigid jaw protruding from thin skin. I peeked to the side, expecting to see her withdraw, but instead caught her hand flinch, then each of her knuckles go white as she began to pull slowly. I clenched my teeth, and gave a small cry, bending my head awkwardly so as not to be parted with my hair.
“You pull any further or don’t let go right now, I swear—Vanya, I swear I will hit you hard enough to cause permanent brain damage.” Emily’s voice was neither loud nor threatening. In fact, there was little inflection at all. It was, however, full of absolute promise, of something reliably certain. The words she spoke were truth. I believe this is why Vanya released me, stepped back, and departed the hallway immediately.
~
A somber gloom affected the lunch table’s occupants—chiefly, the four nearest me.
I sighed. “There’s no reason why this should ruin everyone’s day,” I whispered into my salad, pushing a serrated carrot wedge drenched in Italian dressing around my bowl. “I’m fine, I promise.” I resisted the urge to raise my hand and soothe the tender spot.
After the altercation, I was too ashamed, embarrassed, shaken, and shocked to do much of anything. I thanked Emily, asked her to let Dominic know I would be a few moments, and excused myself, seeking refuge in the girl’s bathroom.
When I stepped into the cafeteria, alone, and began the slow approach toward our table, Dominic was seated in his usual spot, his capacious back facing me. Jake gave a slight jut of the chin and then he’d turned. In that split second before our eyes met, I realized the grave error I’d made in not asking Emily to keep what had happened between Vanya and me private. I would tell him, of course, but ideally after I had some time to process. The loudness befalling me in the seconds after this thought, struck my heart with an audible incision.
Half-turned, Dominic watched me walk toward him, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes carrying a thousand sad, helpless words.
“I really am fine,” I repeated, with as much conviction as I could muster.
Emily sat across from me today, arms folded across her chest. “I should’ve decked her,” she said impassively. Staring straight ahead, she stabbed a spiral pasta noodle, plopped it in her mouth, and chewed angrily.
I carried my gaze from Emily to Jake, and lastly to Maddie tucked neatly beside him, finding them all in some form of quiet contemplation. I couldn’t, however, summon up the courage for a fleeting glimpse of the brooding boy beside me. I hardly needed to see him, though, when I could feel what was purling off his skin.
Dominic would know, of course, without Emily needing to say so specifically, that I had not stood up for myself. This, I supposed, is what had him most upset. We would discuss this later, I was sure, but now was not the right time.
Feeling a little despondent, I dove back into my lunch, weaving my fork through the esculent part of the garnishing. I was at a loss as to what I could say or do to make things better. Then I decided anything was better than this and cleared my throat. “So, what are everyone’s plans for the weekend? Em, there’s a new movie coming on this Friday that you wanted to see, right?”
Emily shrugged one bare shoulder. “Books made into movies are always epic letdowns. I’ll just leave feeling irritated. I really should have just hit her,” she said evenly, leaving no pause for transition. “In fact, did she leave campus for lunch today?” Emily stood up where she was, fork in hand, and glanced around the cafeteria.
The responses, to my great relief, were both in unison and instantaneous, each being a variation of, “Sit down, Em.”
Jake had her wrist and yanked her to a rough landing, shaking the bench.
Slightly jarred, she shook him off, casting a feral glance at her brother. “Do that again and I dislocate your shoulder. Try playing polo or surfing in a sling.”
Surprisingly, Jake neither laughed this off nor prodded his sister with incensing banter. He gave her a hard look equally formidable, if not somewhat exasperated. “You were lucky last time, Em. That girl you punched didn’t rat you out. You know you can’t expect the same from Vanya.”
“Jake’s right, Em,” I chimed in, my heart still hammering in my chest. “You can’t risk it. You could be dismissed as captain, let go from the team, or worse—suspended from school.”
“I fail to see how suspension is worse,” she said dryly.
“You have a whole team counting on you,” I said earnestly. “They need you. Semifinals are only a few weeks away. Please don’t do something that could jeopardize your chances of graduating or getting into college next year.”
Emily stared at me, her face expressionless. “You’re being a little dramatic, Fost. It’s not like I’m considering murder—well not seriously, just a nice swift knock to the head. You never know,” she added blithely, “maybe I’d be doing her a favor, steering her down the pathway to reform.”
“Em.” I shook my head. “Please . . .”
“Okay, fine then.” She dropped her fork onto her plate, blowing out an angry breath. For one instant I relaxed, the tension going out of my body. “What about you, huh?” Emily laid her accusatory eyes on Dominic, and all at once the tension was back and then some. “How about you do something about this? You’re the boyfriend, right?”
It was like I had first been doused with lighter fluid and then forced to stand still while a lit match was flicked at my face. She glanced at me, and something like compunction rippled across Emily’s angry expression, but she was too riled up for it to be anything but fleeting.
Without moving my head, I peered sideways. Dominic regarded Emily with the terrifyingly still countenance of a lackadaisical panther dozing in the sun. If so inclined, it would take less than a second before the panther was on all fours, something wiggling clamped between its teeth.
I saw movement out the corner of my eye and peeked down. The fist nearest me lay on its side on the table; he rubbed his thumb and fourth finger together. “I think you need to calm down a little bit,” he replied, sincerely. “I understand you’re upset, as am I, but handling Vanya with violence isn’t going to help Foster, and it isn’t going to make either one of us feel better.”
Emily’s brows rose high. “Yeah, well, I completely disagree with you.” She reclaimed her fork, stabbed another noodle and plopped it into her mouth.
Dominic sat back with a sigh. “Would you like me to punch Vanya?” he asked, his voice calm and even. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”
Growing up with three, strongly opinioned sisters had made Dominic nearly immune to nettling. Though I had seen him at his worst, I knew that for the most part, Dominic’s fuse was fairly long; this, however, was a sore subject and Emi
ly was picking at an open wound. If I couldn’t separate these two soon, the situation was only going to get worse. The only trouble was that neither of them looked ready to be done with this conversation.
Crossing his arms loosely over his chest, he added, “I suppose I could to that,” and paused to consider. “There is the small repercussion of being thrown in jail, with the label ‘felon’ following me around for the rest of my life.”
Emily gave a short breathy laugh, shooting a wry glance between me and Dominic. “I see Foster isn’t the only dramatic one in the relationship.”
Dominic laughed heartily, pointing to himself. “I’m dramatic? You threaten people like it’s a holiday, and I’m the dramatic one?”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means,” he leaned forward, speaking slow and firm, “you’re slightly homicidal.”
“Am I?” She laughed. “Well, I’d much rather be homicidal, than a coward.”
Dominic offered a dim replica of a smile. “Cowardice is subjective, Emily.”
“Okay, Socrates. Maybe save the philosophy for someone who gives a sh—”
“Em!” I cried, desperately hoping to redirect her anger.
“What?” she shouted back at me, glaring, until she realized it was me. Her face softened infinitesimally. “This is crap and you know it.”
“No, I—you—you shouldn’t be arguing with each other in the first place,” I said, and swallowed nervously. Beneath the table, my hands were dripping with sweat. I braced them on my knees, searching carefully for the right words. It was imperative I not take sides.
“Is that your big plan, Em?” Though I hadn’t yet spoken, Dominic’s interjection startled me. Of the two of them, I thought for certain Emily was the more volatile, but seeing him now, I thought perhaps I had been wrong. They were more similar than I even knew. Dominic’s voice was controlled, even, but no less full of helpless ferocity. “Hm? You gonna go around and beat the crap out of everyone that offends or assaults Foster?”
“Sounds good to me,” she blasted back. “Better than your plan, which is obviously to do nothing. At least I care enough to do something about it. Something other than sit here and pout about it.”
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