After Me

by Joyce Scarbrough

  “Time for your lesson, Scott. The next time you and your football buddies decide to put the new cheerleaders through an initiation at one of your parties, better stick to dunking them in the pool. I don’t care how stupid or slutty or willing to grovel they are, they don’t deserve to be drugged and raped.”

  He obviously didn’t realize the gravity of his situation, because he tried to argue despite my hand around his throat.

  “I told you I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he said. “Me and my boys don’t need to drug anybody. We got girls begging us for it all the time.”

  “Liar.”

  I released his throat and drove my knuckles into the bridge of his nose, hard enough to break it but not hard enough to send bone fragments into his brain. He uttered a distinctly unmasculine scream and tried to free his arms, but I held him down as easily as if he were the little girl he sounded like.

  “Okay, I’m sorry—shit!” Blood ran into his mouth from his shattered nose and mixed with his tears.

  “Much better,” I said. “And you’d be smart to spread the word to your teammates too, because if I hear about anything like this happening again, every guy on the team is gonna pay with a broken bone. And it’s gonna be whichever bone they need the most to play football. You’re the quarterback, huh? Right-handed or left?”

  “No… please!” His eyes were wide with fear. “I swear it won’t happen again!”

  I shrugged. “Guess I’ll just have to break both of them.”

  “The left! The left!”

  I lifted my knee so I could deliver a karate chop to his right forearm. “Sorry. Don’t trust you.”

  I stood up and watched him rolling around on the ground, holding his broken arm and sobbing. Was I a monster because I didn’t feel even a speck of sympathy for him? Maybe. But he sure as hell hadn’t felt any sympathy for the girls he’d drugged, so I guess that made us even.

  “Okay, Scott, let’s review our lesson. Girls are not objects created to entertain the male of the species, and even when they’re drugged or drunk or just too stupid to make intelligent decisions and tell you no, that doesn’t give you the right to take advantage of them. Got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” he whimpered.

  “Excellent. And don’t forget to share your newfound knowledge with the other guys, ‘cause I’m holding you personally accountable for anything they do. Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I found out about your little roofie parties, you can thank Fallon and her bitchy cheerleader pals for gossiping in the bathroom without checking to make sure nobody’s in the stalls.”

  I went back to the deck and picked up the tub of ice and beer, which probably weighed close to seventy-five pounds. Scott was still on the ground, although he tried to scramble to his feet when he saw me coming back.

  “I said I’d do whatever you want. Please don’t break anything else!”

  “Dude, how cruel do you think I am?” I gave him an offended look and pushed him back to the ground with my foot. “I’m not gonna break any more bones. I just think you need one more little reminder about why this happened in the first place.”

  I set the tub on the ground beside him and smiled.

  “Take off your shorts.”

  * * *

  When I left Scott’s house ten minutes later, I was still so pumped that I knew I couldn’t go back to Brad and Karen’s yet. I took a detour down Bayshore Drive, hoping I could find a spot between the houses where I could get to the water. I needed a quiet place to de-charge or I was liable to wake everyone in the house when I went home.

  I had to keep going south until I got to where Bayshore intersected with McFarlane, but I found a spot where I could cut through Peacock Park and get to a small pier. Sitting cross-legged on the end of the dock while I looked out at the moon’s reflection on Biscayne Bay, I could feel the electricity in my body slowly draining into the worn boards beneath me.

  It felt so good to get vengeance for Caitlin and the other girls who’d been used by Scott and his douchebag friends. If I could’ve found something to make me feel this amplified while I was alive, maybe I wouldn’t have messed around and gotten myself killed. Of course, if I hadn’t gotten myself killed, I wouldn’t be here now playing Superhero. That was some irony that even Alanis Morissette should be able to recognize.

  Ironic or not, one thing I knew for sure was that it felt incredible to do something that could actually make a difference in this crappy world. And I also liked being teamed up with the good guys for a change. My life before had been such a total waste. Maybe it would’ve been different if Cassie hadn’t died—I liked to think so at least—and this made me hope I was right. That there was some good in me after all.

  But, yeah, I could totally get used to this Zombie Girl gig. In fact, I was starting to hope I wouldn’t find BOSSMAN anytime soon and have to leave, which was why I hadn’t even bothered to see if Cherry Licious had any new messages on FaceSpace when I got home from school that afternoon. I’d love the chance to take care of a few more junior scumbags like Scott and Dougie before I moved on to the big guys.

  I lay back on the pier and looked up at the stars. Who was I kidding? There was another reason I wasn’t ready to leave yet, and it had to do with a certain blond chess champion. Maybe by this time tomorrow night, I’d know whether he felt anything besides friendship for me or if Annalee was the reason he’d asked us on our “date.”

  Something to my left drew my attention and I sat up. About a quarter mile away, I could see a light at the end of another pier that stretched out behind one of the humongous houses on Bayshore Drive. It reminded me of the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan’s dock and how Jay Gatsby had loved her for so long even though he knew she belonged to another man.

  A shooting star streaked across the sky just then, almost like an omen, and I decided to make a wish. It was incredibly selfish of me, but I wished with all my dead heart that Lew would like me better than he liked Annalee. I sat there a little while longer, thinking about things like the perfect crease in his khakis and his crazy math watch, and it didn’t even bother me anymore that I thought they were sexy.

  Before I left, I paused and looked up at the sky again. “Hey, Flo, I don’t know if wishes are your department or not, but maybe you can put in a good word for me since I just struck a blow for the guys in white.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Julian loosened the fishing line just enough to allow the girl one last gasp before he finished her off. He wanted her alive a little longer for a final bit of fun.

  “Let’s recap, shall we? This is what happens to snooty little tramps when you get so greedy that it makes you lose the tiny amount of intelligence you were born with. Now would you like to beg for your sorry life one more time? Just make sure you choose your words carefully, because one little slip means no more fun and games for you. Ever.”

  “Please let me go.” The girl’s voice sounded as if her throat were coated with sandpaper. “I promise I’ll be nice to the losers at school from now on. I’ll even sleep with them and send you pictures if you—”

  “Not even close, you stupid little slut.” Julian’s disdainful laughter echoed through the clearing as he tightened the garrote around her throat and held it until she stopped thrashing.

  An hour later, after he’d taken his souvenir pictures and disposed of her body, he drove back to Jacksonville in a black fury despite all the delicious things he’d made her do before he killed her. The comment she’d made when she first arrived about telling her friend they’d met in the Sugar Daddy chat room had him more than a little concerned.

  Not that he was worried about them finding her body, just as they’d never found any of the others. The efficient disassembly and disposal process he’d perfected made sure of that. His IP address was masked so the cops couldn’t trace him, and he always changed his e-mail address and screen name after a kill. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d rushed this meeting too much b
ecause the one before had been such a disappointment.

  Yes, he should have ended this correspondence as soon as he’d found out that WETNWILD16 was really WETNWILD14 and didn’t even have a driver’s license, which meant he couldn’t use the Ferrari to lure her to a meeting. But her uncanny resemblance to a certain blonde cheerleader from middle school who’d mocked him mercilessly because his mother walked him to and from school every day had made it impossible for him to let this look-alike go on living.

  Since the Ferrari couldn’t be used as bait this time, he’d had to talk her into meeting him at a motel in Ocala with the promise of tickets to a sold-out Lady Gaga concert. After checking to make sure the friend who’d dropped her off didn’t hang around, he watched her on the hidden camera he’d planted in the room to make sure she wasn’t talking to someone on a wire.

  Once he felt certain the meeting wasn’t a trap, he’d drugged her drink and had some preliminary fun with her in the room while he waited for it to get dark enough for them to leave. He loved the way the drug turned them into slutty little puppets who did whatever he told them to do. Once it was dark, he tied her up and drove to a remote campsite in the Ocala National Forest. Then the real fun began.

  But now, because the stupid tramp had opened her mouth to one of her friends, he’d have to stay out of the Sugar Daddy chat rooms for a while and lay low until they gave up on finding her. No telling how long that would take, and he hated the thought of having to settle for those filthy hookers in the meantime. Even when he indulged himself and killed one of them instead of just knocking them around, he didn’t get the same satisfaction that came from turning one of the snooty little suburban tramps into a sniveling, bloody pulp that would never laugh at anybody again.

  He slammed his hands against the Ferrari’s steering wheel and knocked his head against the window until his ears rang from the impact and his eyeballs vibrated painfully in their sockets. He didn’t even care if he broke the window. He’d blame it on one of McCarthy’s garage monkeys and get them fired. He hated those muscle-bound mouth breathers anyway. Always flirting with the maids and probably screwing them in McCarthy’s cars. Barely literate immigrants, all of them.

  By the time he pulled through the gates of the McCarthy estate, he’d consoled himself with the realization that even if he had to stay out of the private chat rooms, WETNWILD16 hadn’t been part of the Sugar Daddy group on FaceSpace, so he could still pursue some new connections there.

  And he cheered up even more when he got home and saw that he had a private message from a hot little thing calling herself Cherry Licious.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When I got on the school bus the next morning, Annalee pulled me down beside her as soon as I reached the seat.

  “Did you go to Scott’s house? Tell me what happened! Did he know who you were? Did anybody see you? What did you do to him? Tell me!”

  I laughed. “Dial it back a notch, girlfriend. Give me a chance, okay?” I relayed the story of Scott’s lesson as quietly as I could, but Annalee’s periodic squeals of laughter still drew some curious looks.

  “Did he really cry?” she said between giggles. “I thought he was supposed to be such a tough guy.”

  I scoffed. “Guess he’s only tough if he’s wearing pads and has an offensive line in front of him. You should’ve heard him beg when I packed his junk in ice before I left.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “You saw his… you saw him naked?”

  “Trust me, it was no big deal,” I said. “And the ice made it even less of a deal.”

  She giggled even more. “You think it did any permanent damage?”

  “Who knows and who cares? But I made sure he knew I’d be back to put him out of commission for good if I heard about any more roofie parties. I think he got the message.”

  “Awesome.” She looked at me with open admiration. “Zombie Girl is my hero.”

  “Thanks. I kinda like her myself.”

  “Did you bring your library books with you so you can come home with me after school today?”

  I patted my backpack. “Yep. I finished them all. Hey, can we go by your house and primp a little before we head to the library?”

  She looked skeptical. “I guess so, but why?”

  “Did you forget about our date with Lew?” I couldn’t help hoping she might not be able to go.

  “No, but you don’t need to primp, and it wouldn’t do me any good even if I had a reason to do it.” Her fingernails suddenly became oddly fascinating.

  All my selfish hoping from a moment before disappeared, and I reached over to take her hand. “We’ll have to see about that. Did I ever tell you about my mad cosmetology skills?”

  “Are they part of your zombie powers?” She still looked doubtful.

  “No, they came from countless hours of playing with a giant Barbie head when I was little.”

  When we got off the bus at school, I could tell something had just happened in the parking lot from the way people were huddled together whispering and staring in the direction of Scott's crowd, although he was nowhere to be seen. When Caitlin saw me, she ran over and grabbed my arm.

  “I have to talk to you, Gwen.” She glanced at Annalee and added, “Alone.”

  I winked at Annalee. “I'll catch up with you and the guys in a few minutes.”

  Caitlin pulled me over to her car. “Get in so nobody can hear us.” Once we were inside with the doors closed, she said, “Oh my God, you did it! You said you could make Scott pay and you did!”

  I tried to keep my face expressionless. “Why, what'd you hear?”

  “Scott called Kyle in the middle of the night, freaking out because he said some psycho in a mask broke into his house and went off on him about what happened at the party. Kyle said Scott's throwing arm is broken.”

  “Wow,” I said, still giving away nothing. “What else did he say?”

  “Scott said for all the football players to be at his house after practice today or else. Matt told Kyle he doesn't take orders from Scott and they could all kiss his ass if they didn’t like it. That's when Kyle decked him. Mr. Kopelecki took both of them to the office right before your bus pulled up.”

  I couldn't hide my surprise at that. “I thought Matt was tight with all of them.”

  “Me too, but yesterday when Scott was being such an asshole to me, Matt's the only one who told him to shut up.”

  “But I thought…” I broke off before saying anything about the rape rumor since Annalee had said she didn't know if it was true. “Never mind. So what makes you think I had anything to do with Scott's broken arm? Didn't you say this psycho was wearing a mask?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, but I know you must’ve sent him. Scott told Kyle the guy was huge and knew karate or kung fu or something. Was it your Asian friend?”

  I doubled over with laughter. I thought about telling her what was so funny, then I realized it was probably better if nobody knew the vigilante was a girl.

  “Yeah, it was my friend… Kato,” I said. “I’m laughing because Scott said he was huge. Kato’s my size. Actually, we’re exactly the same size.”

  She giggled. “I bet Scott cried like a baby when he broke his precious throwing arm. I hope he loses that full ride to Florida State he’s always bragging about.” She reached over and put a hand on my arm. “Thanks for making it happen, Gwen. Is there some way I can repay you?”

  I started to tell her to just forget it, then I changed my mind. “Yeah, the next time you hear some girl getting called a slut or getting talked about for something she did, take up for her—at least until you know the whole truth. Us girls need to stick together like we did when we were little and we thought all the boys had cooties, remember?”

  She nodded. “You’re right. You know, one of my best friends from middle school told me yesterday that she didn’t believe what people were saying about me. I haven’t hung out with her since I made cheerleader. I think I’ll see if she’ll forgive me for bei
ng so stupid.”

  “Hey, we all make stupid mistakes,” I said. “The important thing is not to make the same ones again.”

  * * *

  By lunchtime, the news of Scott’s broken arm had spread over the entire school, although the account of what happened to him ranged from an attack by a couple of Coral Gables’ linebackers to an extraterrestrial encounter. I didn’t care how many stories circulated as long as none of them featured a blonde girl with a smart mouth and sparkly nails.

  Annalee had to make up a test during lunch and said she’d see me on the bus after school. When I joined the guys in the cafeteria, I almost kissed Sidney when he moved over and made a place for me between him and Lew.

  “Hey, guys,” I said as I sat down. “Did you hear about the jock who got his ass kicked by Chuck Norris last night?”

  Sidney’s eyes widened. “I heard it was his homeroom teacher’s husband.”

  Lew laughed and took a bite of his sandwich. “I heard it was Wolverine.”

  I tried not to hyperventilate because Lew’s thigh was touching mine. “Well, it’s bad news for football fans no matter who it was. Hope you guys didn’t have money riding on the rest of the season.”

  “No worries.” Lew opened a bag of Fritos and offered it to me.

  I took one and savored the cardboard crunchiness. “Good, but I hope this isn’t the first in a series of hate crimes against jocks, Triple C. They might be targeting you next.”

  He almost spit his SoBe LifeWater across the table. “Maybe you’re right,” he said when he recovered. “Should I be on the lookout for somebody who might eat my brain?”

  “You never know.” I shrugged and took another Frito. “Somebody could be thinking about nomming on that super cerebellum right now.”

  “Could we please talk about something else?” Sidney had a lovely green tint to his face. “People are trying to eat lunch here you know.”

  I put an arm around his shoulders. “Sorry, Sid. We’ll try not to ruin your fine dining experience.”