The Burnouts

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The Burnouts Page 9

by Lex Thomas


  She took it.

  13

  THE MORNING SUN ROASTED HILARY’S FLESH. She lay absolutely still on her towel, with the gun at her side. Her bikini had to stay in the exact same place for her entire tanning session or her tan lines would be blurry. Blurry tan lines were for slobby girls, and Hilary was no slob. She didn’t understand how other girls didn’t care. Some didn’t have swimsuits of their own, so they’d borrow whatever one they could get and they’d be laying out with a different-shaped suit each day. When they’d wear a low-cut top, their chests would be a mess. Who were these girls who could put up with weird triangles of paleness all over their tits? Didn’t they have any self-esteem?

  Hilary didn’t have that problem. She knew how beautiful she was. She knew how much she deserved attention and that she was meant for greater things. People had always hated her for not having doubt in herself. They thought she was conceited but she wasn’t. She was a realist. They all had eyes. They knew she was something rare, something precious, and that like it or not, they weren’t. Let them hate her. It wasn’t her fault who their parents were. They should just accept it. That would be the healthy thing. They were only mad because they were all unwilling to really take an honest look at themselves in the mirror, and she was always forcing them to, by simply being in the same room.

  Hilary lay in the center of the empty quad. She sunbathed alone, while crowds of people stood with their towels in the hallways, waiting for the Varsity members posted at each hallway to tell them they were allowed to walk onto the quad. When one Skater girl, Marsha Buchanon, had gotten really tan, it was all the pale girls in McKinley could talk about. And there were a lot of pale girls. It had become so popular, even the darker-skinned girls started coming out too, just to socialize. They were hating it now though. They despised her for making them wait, for insisting that the sunshine was hers to enjoy alone. The halls were overstuffed with grumbling kids who kicked at the dirt, and cursed her name. She could feel the anger radiating from them, and it soothed her like a hot stone massage. It felt good to be on top again. Things were as they should be.

  She tongued the borrowed tooth in her mouth. The superglue ruined her tongue for food, but it was a small price to pay for having a complete set. She had the Freak girl to thank for that. Hilary had told the girl she’d blow her brains out if she ever talked, but promised to cut her lips off first. Lucy was the only other person who knew about Hilary’s missing tooth. Hilary would love to know if Lucy was still alive. She hadn’t seen her since that night the goblin boy in the dress had dragged her away. Hopefully to murder her.

  A drop of sweat slid down her left cheek from her upper lip. She wiped it away. Another drop dripped. She touched her hand to the wetness. When she pulled her hand away from her face, she saw red. A smear of blood across the back of her hand. Blood. She wiped it on her towel before anyone could see.

  Hilary sat up in a panic and covered her nose. Was this really happening? Was she transitioning out of infection? It should have made her happy. Getting a nosebleed was what every McKinley student wanted. But Hilary had barely had a chance to capitalize on her new power. She held a hunk of machined metal in her hand that could blow holes in people with the pull of a finger. It could make people do anything she wanted. That presented a precious opportunity. She looked up to the crane arm in the sky overhead. Suddenly, there was so much to do.

  Hilary looked down on everyone from her throne. It was a volleyball ref chair that she’d made the Geeks transform into a throne by covering every inch of it in broken pieces of old school trophies. It sparkled with golden light. Her towering throne had been placed in the center of the basketball court specifically for this meeting.

  Below her, the leader of every gang sat around a table. She was amazed by how quickly the leaders had fallen in line. It had only been an hour and a half since her nose had bled and she’d put the word out. The only one she had the slightest respect for was Zachary the Geek. He was wearing an emerald-encrusted turban and a canary yellow robe, and he made it work. She knew she’d need him the most of any of them, and he’d probably make it through this without a bullet in the head. P-Nut, on the other hand, that mutt, she hoped he gave her a reason to shoot him. And by the look on his face, he knew it. He was regretting that he had ever asked her to be a whore. The boy was shaking in his skinny jeans. Bobby Corning was useless, but he had always adored her. Hilary knew less about the other three: Henry the Nerd, Lark the Saint, and Lips the Slut. They were replacement leaders, but they’d have to obey just the same.

  Hilary tickled the hammer of the gun with her thumb. She craved to feel it blast again. She could tell that was going to be a problem for her.

  Terry hopped onto the basketball court on one foot. He held a full glass of water. His injured foot was bundled in reddened gauze and athletic tape, and he kept all weight off it. He clenched his teeth and stared at the glass, careful to not let any water slosh out. She’d told him she’d shoot him in his other foot if he spilled a drop.

  “It’s about time, I asked for that water forever ago,” Hilary said. “Why don’t you pour it on your head.”

  Terry hesitated and she raised the gun. He promptly drenched himself. All the other gang leaders watched the leader of Varsity humiliate himself at her command, and it had to be having an effect on them.

  Hilary stood up in her chair. “Whether you know it or not, all of you are guilty of disrespect.” She began to gesticulate with the gun. “Payback starts now—Linda!”

  Linda scurried in like a scared mouse and dropped a white envelope in front of each leader.

  “In those envelopes, you’ll find your instructions. From now until tomorrow afternoon, your gang is at my fucking disposal. You will do exactly as those instructions say and more, if I ask you to. Everything has to be carried out to perfection. If your gang falls short, if they screw up a single detail, I start poking holes through people. Starting with you. Any questions?”

  Bobby slowly raised his hand.

  “What’s happening tomorrow?” he said.

  Hilary smiled and cocked her gun.

  “Prom.”

  14

  WILL CLUNG TO THE COLD METAL RUNGS OF the maintenance ladder in the elevator shaft. His old elevator home hung by cable just below him. Lucy had to be there.

  The longer he’d been in the school, the clearer it had become that this plan had been busted from the start. The school was too big and too dangerous for it to go right. He’d been shocked by how many gangs were roving the halls at night. It was as if they were bored of their usual hangouts and they were looking for trouble, not avoiding it. By the time Will had gotten to the plant room, his best guess to find Lucy, it was morning, and she hadn’t been there. He’d spent most of the day hiding and contemplating the fact that Lucy could be anywhere. She could be hiding, asleep in a locker, and he could walk right by her and never see her again.

  He had to depend on faith. It had been that thought, over and over, that had recharged his weary body, and ejected him back into the halls. He had to believe he would find Lucy soon. He had to believe that they were destined to be together, and that coming into McKinley, hunting for her on deadly terrain, was proof that he was worthy of that destiny.

  She was in the elevator, he told himself.

  He was going to do the jump, he’d done it more times than he could remember. It was nothing to him, he just had to catch his breath. The only problem was he’d been trying to do that for the last three minutes, and his breaths couldn’t come fast enough. He was pushing too hard, and he knew it. He hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since he’d been outside.

  Spots twinkled in his vision. He felt dizzy. The possibility crossed his mind that he could pass out and fall to his death, so he jumped. Will’s heels hit the roof of the elevator car and he fell to his knees. He still couldn’t catch his breath, but now he realized the air was hardly coming through the filter. Something was wrong with his mask.

  The filter ha
d to be clogged. It felt like he was underwater, breathing through a hundred-foot drinking straw. He crawled for the elevator hatch. Lucy might be inside. He was only getting air in little sips, and his exhales were bubbling. On his knees he lifted the hatch to the elevator. The exertion made his vision gray out and his head feel filled with helium. Will’s muscles quit and he fell forward, straight through the hatch, and into the elevator.

  His back slapped the linoleum floor, and his head followed with a crack. By the dim emergency lights, he could see the cold truth. Lucy wasn’t here. He was alone in an empty box.

  He sucked in empty breaths like a dying frog. He’d been dreaming, thinking Lucy would be here. He stared at the fallen shelves he and David had put up. This was crazy. He was dying fast. He had only a trickle of air coming through, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it. He fumbled with the front of his mask, tugging at things that wouldn’t budge, trying to figure out what could be clogging his air, but it was too late. Panic was crushing his throat. His lungs were spinning, confused and hating him for not giving them air. Will ached to yank his mask off now. What was a better way to die? Silent and choking or red and explosive? He didn’t have the guts to go out big. He wriggled in pain and slapped the wall with fading strength.

  Time slowed, and Will realized he couldn’t stop it. He became weirdly serene. His mind drifted to Lucy and the future they wouldn’t have together. He saw his son. The boy looked more like Will than Lucy. Although he could see a little of her in his eyes and his hair. Will had forgotten about the natural color of Lucy’s hair. It was a deep gold with traces of brown like the grain of lacquered pine. He hadn’t seen her hair like that since the first day of school. The boy’s golden bangs kept falling into his eyes and he couldn’t be bothered with clearing them out of his way. That was just like Will. He knew in his heart, that boy would be wild.

  He saw them living in a modest Pale Ridge house, a fixer-upper, with THORPE hand-painted on the mailbox. Lucy was good at that kind of thing. And Will had gotten good at fixing gutters and replacing windows. Even though it wasn’t how he would have wanted to spend his weekends after working a boring job all week, he found joy in it, because it was his house he’d bought with his wife. He supposed that was what love was.

  Every moment was precious. Will sent his son to his room for acting out, then he and Lucy chuckled about it as soon as the little rascal was gone, because the boy was just like his old man. The three of them never missed a dinner together. They’d go back for seconds and thirds of Lucy’s famous cooking. They’d talk about dream vacations. They’d joke and laugh and gossip about any relative that wasn’t within earshot, mainly Uncle David. Maybe Lucy would make rhubarb pie on Will’s birthday. He loved rhubarb pie.

  Will felt a twinge of sadness. He remembered he was dying. It wasn’t fair. His life could have been so good. He would have treasured every minute. He wanted to age. He wanted to lose his hair. He wanted to lose his looks. He wanted to watch Lucy gain weight over the years. He wanted a life. But it all faded away, and for his final moments, no matter how hard he tried to wish himself back to his dream life, Will stared at the dirty, speckled elevator floor. He closed his eyes.

  A heavy thump vibrated the floor.

  Will’s eyelids widened. His vision was murky but he saw someone in a gas mask on the floor next to him. David.

  Will couldn’t trust it. It had to be a dream. He watched David kneel at his side.

  “Don’t breathe,” David said.

  Don’t worry, Will thought.

  “Nod that you understand me.”

  Will managed to blink rather than nod. It seemed to be enough for David. He grabbed Will by the head and nimbly undid the filter off the front of his mask. Less than a second passed before David shoved a new one in. It locked on to the front of his mask with a plastic click.

  Air. It flowed into Will’s mask like a breeze. Will sucked in a breath so big he thought he would bust a rib. If his lungs had taste buds, he bet that first breath would have tasted like a banana split.

  “You okay?” David said.

  Will managed to nod. David kicked him in the liver.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” David yelled. His voice came out distorted through the small speaker by the chin of his mask.

  “Hey!” Will shouted between pained breaths.

  David kicked him again, this time in the shoulder.

  “Cut it out!”

  “Do you ever think? Is there anything in that fucking head of yours?”

  David was leaning so far over him that he had to slide up the wall to get to his feet. David speared his finger into Will’s face shield as he yelled.

  “Answer me!”

  Will knew he’d put his brother in a horrible position. He knew David had just saved his life. But David’s finger was in his face, and Will found it so infuriating that neither of those facts seemed important.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Will said.

  Will saw anger in David’s eyes that he’d never seen before, and then David hurled his fist at Will’s face. Knuckles crashed into Will’s mask. Will dropped to the floor and stared in horror at the face shield to his mask.

  There was a giant vertical crack in it.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” David said and dropped down beside Will.

  Will couldn’t move. The crack in front of his eyes was his entire world. It traveled down the plastic like a lightning bolt, angling left to right.

  “I didn’t mean to …,” David said as he dug through his backpack. “I’m sorry—don’t … just little breaths, okay?”

  Will did as David said. If that crack was enough to make David scared, then Will knew he should be shitting his pants. David pulled a disposable lighter out of his pocket.

  “Stay calm. Okay? I can fix this,” David said as he sparked the lighter and held the flame up to the top of the crack. Will took infant breaths as he watched the plastic begin to smoke and soften under the flame. David moved the lighter down the crack at a slug’s pace, leaving a warped trail behind.

  Behind David’s mask, sweat fell down his face in steady streams and fogged his face shield near the temples. His anger had vaporized, replaced by emotions that Will was accustomed to seeing on his brother’s face: fear and guilt.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” David muttered.

  Why was it, Will wondered, that the moments he felt closest to his brother were the ones when they came close to killing each other?

  “I think it’s gonna work,” David said, flicking his eye to meet Will’s.

  He finished melting the bottom of the crack, and Will dared to take full breaths again. His vision was now marred by a thick, blackened stripe of bubbled plastic scar tissue. If he closed his right eye, the world looked distorted. He felt like an ashtray.

  David fell back against the wall with an exhausted huff, like he’d just fought off a heart attack. They looked at each other as they both gulped down air. Will couldn’t help but be struck with a sense of déjà vu. Here they were again, sitting in their elevator home after a blowout fight, hiding from the rest of the school.

  “Thanks,” Will said.

  “Sorry,” David said.

  “I deserved it—sort of.”

  David stayed quiet.

  Will knew he owed David the real explanation. If there was ever a time to clear the air, it was now. Will just really wished it wasn’t. He’d come into the school hoping that he wouldn’t have to. He’d planned on finding Lucy and lifting them both out before David even knew he was gone, and then he’d tell him. But it didn’t happen like that. He had to tell him now … or maybe he should warm up to it.

  “How’d you find me?” Will said.

  “Lucky,” David said. His voice was sour.

  This was going to suck.

  “I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” Will said.

  “No?”

  “No, I didn’t come back here just to stress you out, you know. I had a real reason�
�”

  “You got Lucy pregnant.”

  He stared at David, stunned by the very truth he was about to reveal. David shook his head.

  “Goddamn it, Will.”

  Will instinctively reached for his forehead to ease the tension in his head, but his hand bounced off his gas mask.

  “I’m sorry,” Will said. “It was an accident.”

  “No shit?”

  Will sighed. David was going to be mad at him forever.

  “How did you—how did you find out?” Will said.

  “Saw Mort. I guess everybody knows you and Lucy were together,” David said. Disappointment dripped from his every word. “I guessed the rest.”

  They sat in silence again.

  “You should have told me,” David said.

  Will met David’s indignant eye. He saw what he’d been dreading there, what he’d been hoping to avoid—betrayal. Stabbed in the back by his own flesh and blood.

  “We thought you were dead,” Will said in a rush.

  “Yeah, I got that part.”

  “It’s not like either of us thought we were going behind your back.”

  “So, then, I’ve got no right to be upset? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I guess I’m saying …,” Will paused and wondered why he was holding back. “I’m saying, join the club. I was in love with Lucy first, and that didn’t stop you from moving in on her.”

  “I said I was sorry about that, back then,” David said.

  “Yeah, and I said sorry just now. Does that make you any less pissed off?”

  David’s face was puckered with a frown. Will knew he was bringing up ancient history, but he needed David to understand that when it came to Lucy, Will won. David could be as hurt as he wanted to be. What Will and Lucy had was deeper. That was just the way it was.

  “Ever heard of condoms?” David said.

  Will wanted to fire something back, but his child’s life hung in the balance. Everything wasn’t about Will anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” Will said.

 

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