by Mary Gray
Veering around a pipe jutting from the top of the roof, Teo turns to Sal and Ana at the back. “So the man watched the students at his brother’s school, noticed many of them broken. One boy,” he nods toward Sal, “not only carved wood, but he also knew math. No one appreciated his dual gifts. Another,” he spins to face Juliet on the right, “was in a one-dimensional relationship, and didn’t know how to get out. A ravishing model,” he glances at Cleo on the left, “had unrealistic dreams.”
As if recounting the tale at arm’s length isn’t doing quite what he wants, Teo shifts, connecting with us directly. “All of you, all of you needed to be fixed. And the world you would live in would be infinitely better than what you had known.”
But did he not think for a moment we might not want to be fixed? Or at least think we might want to work out our own problems, if that’s what they are?
Teo moves next to me by the edge of the roof, glancing at the homes lining his segmented street. He studies each one, one after another, after another. Pausing at the last one, he turns to watch Romeo fidgeting with Juliet’s engagement ring.
“In the beginning,” Teo says, “we enjoyed our little world. Such talent, unrestrained fervor, was precisely what I had foreseen. And you proved yourselves, started earning the vaccine.” Yes, Teo adored Romeo’s and Juliet’s party, and then he adored my painting.
“But then?” Teo spins to face me. “Our most prized jewel tried to run away.” His eyes pour into mine, and mine simmer as I refuse to look away.
“What did you hope to accomplish, Miss Laurent?” His voice rises so that it’s pitched high. “Use the vaccine as a shield against the disease?” He lifts his dark face to the ribboned sky, laughing like that’s the most idiotic thing he’s ever heard. He almost looks beautiful the way his eyes shine, the way his lean body opens up with his legs planted wide. But then he turns those black eyes on me like daggers, as he spits, “Well, the joke’s on you. There is no disease. Do you honestly believe a generator could power all of this?” He gestures at the houses on his street. “It’s simply attached to the regular power grid. It was easy enough to buy the right people off.”
I flinch, teetering dangerously close to the edge. No disease? He’s lying. I take a full step forward, unable to make sense of what he said. I got the vaccine, saw the footage, everything. But he’s laughing and my head’s pounding, and when I turn every which way to see the others, I find Ana’s wide eyes; she’s just as lost as me.
Teo must see my mind reeling, but I must be too slow for him because his fingers are twitching. “It isn’t real,” he hisses. Tendrils of fire dance in his eyes, and it’s like they’re applauding, laughing, taunting. And you thought yourself clever. Just see what you have missed!
The vaccine…there’s no need? So if we’d found a breach in the fence, we could have just left? Right in front of me is Ana, shaking, with a quivering lip; Romeo looks like he’s taken a bullet to his chest the way his eyes blink open wide, and Juliet’s patting his hand, leaning in closer to whisper something in his ear. But Marcus is shaking his head. That’s when I remember what he said before: What I don’t get is why my brother “rewards” us with a vaccine when we live in a society that’s supposedly impenetrable. Marcus, you were so right.
Which makes me realize something. “You said our parents told us to stay away,” I tell Teo. It wasn’t just Teo, either. Abe said he spoke directly with his grandmother.
Teo grows stone cold. He’s staring at me, mouth hanging open. Crap. He was speaking and I’ve run over whatever he had to say. But there’s nothing I can do, no way to change what I’ve done, so I take in a ragged breath. “You said our parents told everyone to stay away, but there is no Living Rot, no resurfacing.” How could he ever have gotten them to lie like that? They wouldn’t have wanted us to stay away.
Teo’s mouth works like he’s trying to speak, but it’s taking him a bit of effort to tuck his astonishment away. Pursing his lips, he says, “It was easy enough to convince them to cooperate when otherwise, the assurance of their children’s lives might grow unsteady.”
He threatened them. What did he say to Mayor Tydal, to my mother? Mayor Tydal might not technically be in the picture anymore, but Teo had a way of being thorough. Did he tell them that, if they tried to find us, he would simply snap our necks the way he did to Lance and Gwen? That must be how he got the actors to portray the Living Rot on the footage he showed us, the people panicking near Griffin. It was all a set-up.
Cleo, on the opposite side of the roof, is actually snarling, and Marcus is gripping her hand, not out of support or the illusion that they are a pair, but because Marcus, of all people, is holding her back. Sal grips Ana by the arm and pulls her up, and the two stand there, tense, like they might actually do something.
When I look around the group, every single person is seething. They agreed to play along, but only because he told them the Living Rot was back. They didn’t want to leave their parents, but took comfort in the fact that that’s what their parents had wanted—for their kids to be safe. Now, it’s like the final piece for rebellion is finally falling into place. Before, we were terrified he’d kill us, but he threatened our parents? That is so very far from okay.
“You lied to them,” I say. Why did I ever love such a man? He was alluring, yes, but I should have known. His kindness is a memory. Like with the balloons. Now it doesn’t matter. Now I can see Teo for the monster he is. He’s nauseating.
“As I was saying.” Teo smiles falsely, shrugging his jacket off. “Is it just me, or is it hot up here?” He sets it gently down like it’s more important than a person or pet. “I believe our world is getting rather dull.” He turns to me, rolling up his sleeves. “And since we have this issue of needing to get down to three, perhaps Persephone can help me.”
I stare at his suit jacket, mere inches from me, remembering how I thought swiping the remote from his coat was our ticket out of here. He needs to understand his vision is waning. That he must tell us how to leave.
Picking his way across the somewhat steep roof, Teo takes his place next to Ana and Sal, who’re standing so closely their elbows are touching.
Teo leans into the pair, smirking at Ana’s taped skirts. “I do believe it is far past time for this couple to leave.” He sighs dramatically.
“Or these two,” he says, hopping over to Romeo and Juliet on the right. “They have not done anything noteworthy lately.” He smiles like he’s feeling more pleased than hurt. Juliet’s ringed finger twitches, like she’d like to scratch the eyeballs out of his face.
Throwing his head back, Teo laughs maniacally, like some sort of villain in a play. He’s stepping away from all of us, no longer wanting us on his stage. He is alone except for Jonas now, and his grip on his couples is disintegrating.
If it weren’t for Jonas, we’d attack Teo on the roof. Cleo’s already broken away from Marc’s grip, and Sal and Romeo flank Marcus at the back. Teo, seemingly oblivious, asks, “Persephone, who do you wish to leave?”
Cleo reaches for that pipe that’s jutting out from the top of the roof when Marcus growls, “Why don’t you pick?”
And it’s like Marc’s question makes everyone teeter; Teo hasn’t fully lost his hold on everybody. Even Cleo pauses from wrenching that pipe from the roof, like she wants to know the answer herself. Yes, she must be thinking, who would Teo pick?
But he doesn’t need to pick anybody. We could all live—he could see.
Holding up a finger, Teo pauses. “Matters would really be much simpler if one couple just—”
And without finishing his sentence, Teo shoves Romeo off the roof. He means to push Juliet, too, but she scrambles out of Teo’s reach.
I scream. So does Juliet. Marcus is shouting, his face deathly white, and at first I’m not sure why he’s the loudest, but then I remember Romeo is his friend.
Stomach in my mouth, I peer over the edge to find one of Romeo’s legs bent back behind him, almost touching his back. I dr
y heave, throw my hand over my mouth. Romeo’s crooked body is like a clay form on the ground. An arm twists around at a sickening angle, and nothing moves; not even his fingers twitch.
Juliet throws a punch toward Teo, but he grabs her around the front, bringing her trembling body into his.
“Do not force things,” Teo tells us through Juliet’s hair. I can’t believe I wanted to protect him before. “I will push her off,” he says. He glances over the edge. “I have done it before.” He is sick, sick.
“Cleo,” Teo says, spotting her gripping the pipe she’s wrenched from the roof, “drop the weapon, please.”
But Cleo has no intention of dropping it, and I don’t think she should—except that Jonas is lifting his stun gun now. But she doesn’t see him. She takes a few steps closer and growls, “The only one with unrealistic dreams is you.” And when she lifts the pipe higher, like she means to strike him across the face, Jonas jabs his stun gun into her back, and she drops in a heap on the shingled roof. I worry she’ll roll off the side, but that bit of roof is flatter than the rest, so she should be safe.
“Please, Teo,” Juliet’s saying over and over, her nutcracker smile long gone, “we did like you said. We passed, remember?”
Teo studies the top of Juliet’s black hair below his face. It’s like I can hear his thoughts in my head: To push, or not to push? That is the question. That’s the type of question the sick bastard would ask after studying the same books as me.
He can’t do this; Teo can’t dismiss her life. Before, I never said anything, because I was certain he’d ask Jonas to slay everyone in the room, lash out at anyone next. But I can stop this murder—I can save Juliet. “You have to stop this!” I cry to Teo, clutching his arm. “This isn’t right.” Teo’s eyes soften, and I watch as his grip loosens around Juliet.
Jaw slack, he turns to me. “What has happened to you?” His eyes are open so wide, it’s like he doesn’t know who I am.
I open my mouth—I mean to tell him maybe I was broken before, but I’m smoothing all the cracks, when a blur of white crosses my line of sight. I know that movement. It’s Jonas, moving straight for Juliet. I reach out to stop him, but with one hand he knocks her away from Teo, his stun gun swinging loose in the other. She teeters, millimeters from the edge, screeching. I grapple for her hand, but her hands are flying about her too quickly, like she’s trying to grab onto something, but she’s too scared to see.
Jonas splays out his fingers to push her off, when two things simultaneously happen next: Cleo, apparently awake again, yanks that stun gun straight out of his hands, and Jonas’s fingers connect with Juliet’s face and shove her off the roof.
I’m shrieking. My mouth is open and screams are ripping out, but mostly what I’m seeing doesn’t make sense. She’s a paper doll, fluttering in the wind. But that isn’t quite right because she’s real, and there’s an awful noise when her body hits the ground. Like hundreds of bones crunching.
When I look down, Juliet’s neck is bent backward like someone’s snapped her head right off—it’s too much. Too much. I lean over and retch. The fluids rush from my mouth, narrowly missing Teo’s black shoes, but they keep coming, and Teo pulls my hair out of my face like he’s here for me, like he’s helping. Fire ants swim in my veins. I could reach up and spew right in his face.
My stomach settles, and I manage to stand up straight when blue lights flash—Cleo’s connecting the stun gun to Jonas’s chest. But he just stands there, smiling this apathetic grin, because those shocks didn’t do a thing. He must be wearing a bulletproof vest or something similar that can block it. Jonas leaps away from Cleo, sprints for the trap door, and jumps straight down into Ramus’s house to get away. Cleo’s eyes glint like she wants to follow, but she grits her teeth and glances back at Marcus, who’s just sitting there, like clay.
Teo, standing right beside me, is staring at Juliet’s form on the ground. He’s frowning, like he’s sad. Shaking his head slowly, he says, “I was going to let her live.” But he was willing to push her off just before I made him stop. It’s like her death is now a minor inconvenience to him, like the simple idea of letting her live would have been something nice.
I glance over to Sal and Ana, whose gazes are fixed on that trap door. I don’t imagine we have much time since Jonas has probably run off to find other weapons—another stun gun or perhaps a sword. Sal and Ana must be thinking the same thing, because they’re rising to their feet and moving for that trap door. Geese scrambling for a foothold.
Sighing deeply, Teo turns to that clay form of Marcus perched on the roof. I wish I could transport him to a hospital in Austin this very moment. Get the insulin he needs flowing into him through an IV.
Teo’s eyes droop downward, taking in Marc’s sight. “Cleo?” he asks, glancing at the girl who now wields the stun gun. “Be a doll and patch Marcus up?”
Wait—he’s giving Marc his insulin now? But how’s she going to get through the fence? Cleo stares at Teo when he gestures at his suit coat. “There’s a vial of insulin in there.”
There’s—what? I grabbed a faulty remote, and he had a vial of insulin right there all along. I could gouge my own eyes out; I’ve made a horrific mess of helping us escape. My only solace is that Marcus will have his insulin now.
Cleo’s eyes spring open as she leaps for the coat, and a twinge of jealousy crawls through me when I see that she’s the one that gets to help him out. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Because Marcus is getting his insulin now.
Teo’s ebony eyes lock on me, flickering. I shudder beneath his gaze as he whispers, “Let us, you and I, go for a walk, Persephone.”
23
Without waiting for a response, Teo tugs me through the trapdoor and steers me through Ramus’s beige-colored house out onto the street. The stars blink at us, shining. We march around Bee’s house, toward the gnarled trees. I’m not sure why, but I think he’s taking me to the fence. I’m not sure what that means for me now. The Living Rot is fake, so he’s letting me out?
I’d like to ask about the others, see if they’re coming, too. Or maybe his plan is to push only me out. If that’s the case, maybe I can run for help. Hop in the SUV and drive straight through the fence. That should make it open up.
But Marc’s getting his insulin, and now I need to set things with Teo right. I need him to know there’s no way in hell things can be the way he wants them to be.
Dropping my hand like it’s scalding him or something, Teo moves two or three steps away from me as we hit the woods. Turning toward me, his voice hitches when he says, “You do not appreciate what I have built.”
Is that what the French rebels said to the nobles after building the guillotine? I could laugh right now out loud, or cry. I could pull on the stubble of his head, but he’s waiting, and I need to sound collected, so I say it as simply as I can, “You say we’re broken when we’re not.”
Teo barks a pained, hollow laugh, and it’s unbelievable to me that the pain somehow rips through me, too. “And that is your reproof?” he asks.
I square my shoulders, because he needs to see what I mean. Killing is killing. There’s no way around that. “Yes,” I say.
Teo moves inside the clutches of the trees, and I follow him, but not because I must. He doesn’t have that power over me anymore. He needs to know I can’t be with him now. I won’t go along with his lies. Everything about his world is wrong. Elysian Fields is a prison of hate. “How could you think I ever wanted this?” I have to ask.
The muscles flicker along his jaw, echoing a slight movement of the leaves. “Perhaps you choose not to know,” he says. Choose not to know—I’m over the cryptic answers. I hate how he always holds the answers very close, just like he did in class. Anyone remember my favorite function? he’d ask, and I’d pull my hair out trying to guess.
His eyes wander over my face, and I don’t want to look at him, but I do—the sideburns running down his olive cheeks, the yellowing cavities around his eyes. I l
oved him once, and he’s waiting for some sort of feedback from me. I don’t want to touch him, but there’s something I must do. So I step to him and take his hand. “Close your eyes,” I say, and it surprises me, but he listens. “What do you see?”
Teo’s long lashes kiss the bottoms of his eyes. “I see us together, you and I.”
“Do you?” Because I don’t.
His eyes snap open, obviously shocked by my tone. His voice is low, pained, as he says, “Of course I do.”
I think of the years between us, how I’m eighteen and he’s twenty-four. How if the school board knew of our relationship, he would be banned from my school. But he is not the only one to be blamed. He is not the only one who felt that way. Teo is disillusioned and selfish and dark, but he is not the only one who’s been all of these things.
Teo turns away from me, his hands and shoulders shaking. In a low moan, he cries, “You are not listening to me!”
But he has to feel how our connection is gone. We can’t be together now. I won’t allow it.
Turning his face to me again, Teo’s eyes flicker with fire, only this time it’s like the fire’s about to go out. “You visited me…” he prompts, and I’m not so sure I know what he means.
He licks his lips, darting his eyes to the ground cover and the knobby tree roots. Closing his eyes, he moans, “Remember our last day together? Before we came here?”
And I can see his classroom door open up. I know what he’s talking about, because it’s the moment I can never forget.
In my mind, I see that day perfectly. How I lingered outside Teo’s classroom when all the students had left. The windows were always open—he seemed to welcome anyone and everything. Especially the breeze. Teo’s classroom was made up of sunspots, a few stray insects, the natural heat. So when I trickled inside his classroom, I felt like another one of the elements looking for rest. That’s what I told myself, anyway. The truth was, the draw to him was infinitely stronger, like a hummingbird’s attraction to red. But Teo was more than a color. He was much more than a person or a place.