by M. C. Atwood
Click.
Snap.
Whir.
Wake up.
Gretchen stares at Ashley. Then looks at me. Her eyes are clear and determined, the Gretchen I know. She grins and slaps her knee. “Oh hells yeah! I am Gretchen, you assholes.” She turns to Dylan and chokes up a little. “I don’t care what anyone says. I know who you are. Who gives a shit about these people?”
I am almost doubling over now, laugh-crying. These people. These beautiful people. And I remember Gretchen fixing Ashley’s feet, throwing her knife at an angel, fighting the clown. Tears pour down my face.
Dylan stands up straighter too and then lets out a whoop. He hugs Gretchen who starts laughing, too. “I am motherfucking Dylan in the motherfucking house, motherfuckers!” He spins Gretchen around and Ashley laughs and I laugh. He turns to the crowd and says, “I remember. I remember, you douchetrolls!” He grabs Ashley’s hand and Gretchen’s hand. I remember, too. Dylan beating away dolls, throwing the bombs at the circus people, wrapping his shirt around my ear.
I turn to Paul, swallowing, hoping hoping hoping.
Wake up, Paul. Wake up.
Click.
Snap.
Whir.
He puts his hands on my cheeks and leans in, a huge smile on his face. I stare into his gorgeous brown eyes and I know. I know he knows. My face hurts, I smile so hard. He says, “I am Paul. And I remember. I remember, Violet.” I hiccup-sob and a snot bubble comes out of my nose.
But I don’t care. Because we’re awake.
We woke up.
We smash into each other, hugging in one big mess of a group and Gretchen and Ashley and Dylan all saying sorry sorry sorry and laughing and crying and the voices around us are getting deafening now. I can even hear the spinning of the basketball whirring around us.
I remember. Our test. Our last test. High school. Life.
I break away from the group and say, “Wait. One more thing.” I walk to the crowd of people, Rhinehart and Trent in front of me.
I square my shoulders and say, “We’re awake, motherfuckers. Fuck all y’all.” And then I punch Rhinehart in the face.
VIOLET . . . (REDUX)
A person could get really used to swearing.
But before I can decide on that for a lifestyle, the moment I punch Rhinehart, the high school walls disappear and we’re in the House again. Only, it’s started twirling like a carousel. The whole thing, with us in it. I see a hole open up in the floor and things start to slide into it, like we’re in a giant toilet bowl and things are getting sucked down.
The demon stands by the hole, his clothes moving in the wind that is picking up. His face is furious and his eyes twirl like crazy. He is terrifying. The spinning picks up and I can feel my feet slide on the floor.
Paul grabs onto a shelf that is bolted to the wall and I grab on to him. I feel arms around my waist that I’m sure are Dylan’s. The room is spinning faster now and the wind is whipping my face. My feet are barely on the ground. I can just barely look up and when I do, I see something that makes my heart stop.
The door. The door to the outside. And it’s open. I can see the gardens of the House and the sun shining down. I even get a glimpse of some students from the high school milling around. Something flies past my head barely missing me. I duck down but can’t stop myself from smiling. Now my legs are totally off the ground and I’m holding on to Paul’s belt for dear life.
The outside is right there.
We’re about 20 feet away from it if we crawl along the wall holding on to the shelves. Five staggered shelves to the door. I yell to Paul, “Outside door!”
He yells, “What?”
I gather up my loudest voice, my “NO” voice and yell again, “Outside door! Ahead.” I see him look up and nod. Then he starts pulling himself and all of us along the first shelf. I keep my eyes on the outside door. Paul makes it to the second shelf, his arms shaking. I wonder how he can do this at all with his arm bitten by a tiger. My love for him grows times a million.
There’s nothing I can do to help. Paul has all of our lives in his hands. I squeeze my eyes tight and whisper to myself, “Come on, Paul, come on, Paul.” I think all the hero thoughts I can at him. Brave, beautiful Paul. Strong Paul.
I hear Ashley yell from behind me, “Hey, Asshole Demon Thing, we won! This isn’t fair!”
A voice booms all around us and rings in my head. I almost let go of Paul to cover my ears but stop myself just in time. The voice says, “The House. Always. Wins.”
So. He’s a bit of a sore loser.
Paul has reached a third shelf, but I feel Dylan’s arms slip down my waist. “NO!” I yell, but hands grab my feet and I know he’s caught onto me. My arms are burning and I don’t know how long I can hold on to Paul. I wonder how Gretchen is hanging on. Nothing feels lighter so I think we’re all still here.
Paul’s grunts reach me through the whirlwind. He inches up the third shelf and reaches for the fourth. I close my eyes.
For a minute, we’re airborne, but then there’s a tug on my already burning arms, and I look up and we’ve reached the fourth shelf.
Hang on, hang on, hang on. I’m shaking all over, trying with all my might to not. Let. Go.
The fifth shelf is a shadowbox type thing that is even with the one we’re holding on to. A tiny marionette holds onto the edge of it, but when Paul reaches it, the marionette gets swept away, its tiny growl just barely audible.
We have just the door to get to now. Paul crawls along the shadowbox and reaches his hand out to the doorframe.
But before he reaches it, I feel a release from my feet.
Dylan isn’t hanging on anymore.
Paul
The release is so sudden, I almost let go of the doorframe, but I hang on and pull, my muscles screaming at me. Without the weight, I pull so hard, Violet and I tumble to the ground right by the outside door.
We’re standing in front of the door, the whirlwind in front of us but totally not touching us. Behind us, there’s a shimmer across the exit like the one we saw at the entrance. We’re in some weird bubble. Not outside but not in the whirlwind either.
Dear Paul of however many hours ago: why the fuck did you go through the shimmer? But actually, I don’t feel that bad about it. Not now. If we can all make it out, that is. No way am I leaving these people.
My heart is hammering and not just because of the pulling. I squint into the whirlwind, but I can’t see anything but colors twirling.
Violet looks at me, panicked.
I know, Violet. I know.
But then, I see a hand grab onto the doorframe. A hand with black fingernail polish. And then the matching hand. Two hands on the doorframe and then just a giant whirlwind. Both Violet and I don’t hesitate—we grab onto those hands and pull.
We pull Dylan out of the mess, and attached to him is Gretchen. We all fall down into a big pile. Dylan stands up, but Gretchen is on the ground, holding on to her side.
Dylan grabs my shoulders. “Ashley.”
Violet stares wide-eyed. “What happened?”
Gretchen cries on the ground, her voice weak. “She let go of my legs. When we hit the doorframe. I don’t know what happened.”
Dylan and I say at the same time, “I’ll go get her.”
Violet smacks both of us. “No! I’m going!”
Gretchen looks up and says, “I’ll go.”
She struggles to get up.
And all three of us snort at her. Just as I’m about to throw Violet back, so she can’t go and get hurt, and plunge into the whirlwind myself, I see a beautifully manicured hand covered in blood grab the doorframe.
Ashley
That cheating asshole.
The thought keeps going around and around my head. And it is this thought and the idea of ripping that demon thing’s head o
ff that makes me strong enough to grab the shelf once I let go of Gretchen’s legs. It is this thought that pulls me over shelf after shelf until I get to the doorframe and grab onto it, my arms shaking, my breath coming fast.
That cheating asshole douchebag.
When my hand hits the doorframe, I get pulled hard and I land in a heap on top of Dylan, who is on top of Paul, who is on top of Violet’s legs, who is next to a laughing Gretchen, still holding her side.
I get up and pull Dylan up, then Paul, then Violet, then Gretchen.
I look at the shimmery exit in front of me. Then look at the rest of my people.
The outside. This is the outside.
I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again. It’s still there.
THE OUTSIDE.
Without speaking, all of us grin at each other. We grab hands like the freaks we are.
Violet is in the front and says, “Let’s get out of this fucking House.”
Love me a girl that swears.
We step through the shimmer.
Violet
I hear birds chirping and a breeze tickles my cheek. Paul’s hand is strong in mine. The sun is shining.
We’re out.
Ms. Harper is about 15 feet away from us, texting on her phone. She looks up briefly and says, “We’re just waiting on a couple others. You guys can go to the bus,” but then she goes back to her phone.
We look at each other.
There’s nothing on us. I feel my ear and it is whole. No blood, no nothing. Gretchen’s outfit is nonbloody and everything is dry. We don’t have scratches or anything.
All five of us let out a huge whoop and hug each other in a tight huddle.
Dylan lets go of us and does another flip, this time landing it perfectly. He yells at the House, “Take that you douchetroll House!”
Ms. Harper looks up. “Dylan! Language.”
But we are all laughing so hard we ignore her. Paul stops laughing suddenly and says to Ms. Harper, “Uh, have you seen Trent around? And a spinning basketball or anything?”
She furrows her brows and looks at him like he’s crazy. “Paul, Trent isn’t even on this trip. Why? Did he sneak in or something?” She looks around like he could pop out from anywhere.
Paul shakes his head. “No, never mind.”
I can feel in my gut, though, that we are out. Truly out.
We won.
We woke up and we won.
Paul comes over to me and shrugs. “I had to check.” He grins and his awesome brown eyes sparkle.
I say, “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I want to get out of here, like right now.” I motion toward the exit door. “Just in case.”
Ashley says, “Amen.”
At the same time Dylan says, “Hallelujah.” I grin at them and they grin back. I notice all three of them holding hands and wonder how this whole thing is going to work out.
And just for a second, I pause. “Things are going to be different now, aren’t they?” We all look at each other. I see the students by the bus, can hear a girl scream laughing and can see a guy chasing her. Most of them are on their phones. I can almost hear the dramas playing out with all of them. I can almost hear all of them afraid.
They look so . . . small.
We’ve been taken apart by the House, put back together in different formation. A part of each other now. Together.
Ashley breaks the silence and snorts. Then she takes off her shoes. “Uh, yeah. Thank fucking god.”
I laugh and so does everyone else. But it’s a deeper laugh. Because things are different now. New. I don’t know how this shakes out from now on. None of us do.
However it does, though, I know we’ll be okay. We woke up. We won. We’re here. Together. It’s going to be okay.
I smile bigger.
And with that calming, awesome, amazing thought drifting in my head, I take Paul’s face in my hands and I bring him down to my lips. And I kiss the hell out of this beautiful boy.
I know who I am. I am Violet.
I am a badass warrior.
I am a righteous ninja.
I am a hero of a revolution.
I am a beautiful warrior goddess.
And I am not alone.
Part VII
Three weeks later, the poker player disappeared. No one knew where he went or why. A search for him lasted for months until finally it was called off.
One year later, the man’s suit, covered in blood, was found in the woods around Whispering Bluffs, Wisconsin. A note was pinned to it, written in rust red, tracing out a symbol and four words. A crow’s feather sat just to the side of it.
The note, the legend says, read only:
The House always wins.
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Excerpt from p. 314, The Collections of Maxwell Cartwright Jr.
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All excerpts courtesy of:
Harper, C.M. The Collections of Maxwell Cartwright Jr.,
Minneapolis, MN: Morgan Corvus Press, 1993.