Teen Hyde

by Chandler Baker

  The suffocating group of girls combined with the haunting shadow of the wolf grin returned me to the headspace of the chubby girl I used to be. The shame came rushing back and it felt new and fresh and worse because I’d been so used to holding this town in my palm that I’d nearly forgotten how bad it could be at the bottom of the dog pile, especially in a place like Hollow Pines.

  No. My eyes snapped open. I’d worked too hard. I’d broken too many nails clawing my way to the top and it wasn’t too late to stop the fall. Maybe I’d needed Sunshine to remind me, but I was still Cassidy Hyde and Paisley Wheelwright and everyone else that tried to stop me could suck it. I clenched my grip.

  “Why do I get the feeling that the most tragic thing that’s happened to you this year was me being named Homecoming queen … instead of you?” My question came out sickly sweet, laced with something unmistakably steely.

  Ava and Erica both sucked in sharp breaths. Paisley’s mouth formed a tiny o of surprise. That’s right, Paize, I’m still here and kicking.

  “We’ve just been worried about you,” Ava said in a tone so sincere that I felt some of the gunmetal that had instantaneously built up around my insides soften. “But, I mean…” She fidgeted. “This weekend you seemed so much more like your old self, maybe … I don’t know … maybe you just needed a little more time.”

  Paisley’s mouth morphed into a barely visible scowl. “We talked about this.…”

  I pulled my shoulders back. I almost laughed in Paisley’s face. She saw a chance to be at the top of the proverbial pyramid without me at last and she grabbed for it. The funny thing was, she was only a week too late. A few days ago, I probably would have slithered away and skulked into social obscurity. Anything to avoid the confrontation. But I wasn’t ready to go now. Not yet. Not this way.

  I drew myself up to my full measure. I positioned the clipboard on my hip and tried to look authoritative. “Okay, I’ll admit, things were a little tough there for a while and I apologize if I seemed … distracted, but I can assure you this is my first priority. The Oilerettes. Hollow Pines High. Making our squad the best it can be. Making sure that we”—I scanned the faces of the girls, making eye contact with each and every one—“are flawless. You can count on me.” I smiled and there wasn’t anything phony about it. I felt the warmth of leftover Sunshine pulsing through me. I could do this. I could win. “Give me this week. Until after the first play-off game against Lamar.” We were gearing up for a long weekend of tournament games in quick succession that would decide whether Hollow Pines would be playing for states then regionals. It was a lot of responsibility and a big stage. “You’ll see exactly what I mean.”

  When I finished talking, Erica actually jumped up and down and clapped, then let her hands drop when she caught Paisley’s glare.

  Paisley tucked her cropped hair behind her ears. As her best friend, this was a dead giveaway. She was nervous. “But we already talked about this, y’all,” she said, turning to implore the squad. “We took a vote. This is a democracy. Votes are sacred. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

  Ava waved her off. “Come on, Paize. The point was we wanted Cassidy to be better. And … well…” She gave a hesitant shrug of her shoulders. “I, for one, am thrilled to have Cassidy 1.0 back.” Evidence that the real original Cassidy was so invisible that she still remained forgotten. Ava extended her arms and came to wrap me in a tight hug.

  The warmth inside me flared. “Thanks,” I said softly into her ear.

  “Sorry,” she murmured back.

  Everyone shifted their weight and muttered signs of approval. Molly, Emma Kate, Alice, Becky, they were all coming around to my side. Back around to my side. I rapped my knuckles on the clipboard. “Well?” I said to Paisley.

  I watched as she rearranged her face before my eyes. I watched as the lines of her frown curved upward into a smile. I watched as she expertly pulled the fangs out from where she’d attempted to lodge them in my neck and reinvented herself as Paisley Wheelwright, certified best friend. “Totally,” she said, in the same pitch she’d use if she were performing a cheer. “Just wanted to make sure you’re cool.”

  I cocked my chin ever so slightly and responded drily, “Totally.”

  For the remainder of our hour-and-a-half practice, I worked the girls harder than they’d ever been worked before. We lunged up and down the court until all of our legs were consumed in a blaze of lactic acid. We ran laps, repeated jumps—straddle, pike, and herkies—performed push-ups and sit-ups in sets of one hundred. I let them feel a fraction of what it’d taken to build Cassidy Hyde, Homecoming queen.

  Sweat streamed from our pores and, through my exhaustion, I felt like I was being baptized into a new person. I luxuriated in the feeling of weakness draining from my body.

  And of course, I kept a careful eye on Paisley, making sure to call her out publicly for every lapse in form. As Coach Carlson was shutting off the lights to the gym and the basketball players were trickling into the locker room, I blew my whistle three times.

  “Great work, everyone,” I said. They wandered over to their gym bags, pulling out bottles of water and wiping their necks with fresh towels. “Time spent today means we’re flawless on Friday.” I caught Liam disappearing into the locker room.

  “I swear I must have burned, like, a thousand calories,” Ava said, unscrewing the top of a Gatorade.

  “I’m stopping for a Big Mac,” said Erica.

  Paisley plopped down onto a bottom-row bleacher. “That totally defeats the purpose, dimwit.”

  Erica ignored her and so did I.

  My muscles pulsed with endorphins and, besides, I had somewhere I needed to be. “I expect everyone to be on time and ready to run routines tomorrow. Got it? Picture them in your sleep,” I finished. “I’ll see you guys then.”

  With those parting words and feeling quite proud of myself, I spun on my heel and disappeared to replace the clipboard and whistle and to snag my belongings from where I’d stashed them inside the girls’ locker room. Two minutes later, with a sheen of sweat still sticking to my forehead, I was waiting outside of the back entrance to the boys’ locker room.

  My spot overlooked the vibrant green football field, which, now that it was no longer football season, was being occupied by members of the track team busy running their one-mile cooldown. So much had happened in Hollow Pines this year. I knew the town that I’d worked so hard to master had been changed for good.

  But staring out at the field beneath the glow of stadium lights, with the breeze cooling my flushed skin, I caught a glimpse of the Hollow Pines I used to know. Simple and safe. And I wished I could freeze time to keep it.

  The door of the locker room swung open and a few members of the basketball team began to trickle out toward the student parking lot. I spotted the back of Liam loping away, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Hey!” I moved from the wall and jogged after him. “Wait up!”

  He turned. His smile was easy. He’d parted his wet hair to the side and I could smell the damp scent of fruity shampoo from several feet away. He waved a few of his teammates on and told them he’d catch up with them later. “Everything okay?” he asked and, by the way he glanced at the door to the girls’ locker room, I knew he was referring to the squad’s would-be coup.

  “Crisis averted.” I fell in beside him and we walked down the paved sidewalk.

  “Good to hear.” We continued along side by side. Liam didn’t volunteer anything further. If this were a guy I was interested in, that alone would have driven me crazy, but since he wasn’t, I found myself envying how carefree and unflustered he always appeared. Maybe things were always easy when you were that gorgeous.

  Then again, people used to think that about me.

  “I need more,” I volunteered at last.

  He fished the keys out of one of the many pockets on his gym bag. “How much more?” He clicked a couple buttons when we arrived at his car and threw the bag into the backseat. Nigh
t was falling, turning the air hazy between us, and I found myself growing antsy, although I didn’t know for what.

  “I don’t know,” I said, shifting my weight. “A lot, I guess.” I hoped I didn’t sound overeager, like some kind of junkie. But Sunshine wasn’t a normal drug. I viewed it as simply a boost. That was it. The fact that I had gaps in my memory? Worrisome, sure. But were they so bad that I’d give up my newfound happiness? No way. I had enough bad memories that I could certainly spare a few. “How much can you give me?”

  He gestured me around to the other side of the car and told me to sit in the passenger seat. He dropped into the driver’s side next to me and reached over to pop open the glove compartment. He pulled out a zipped leather sheath that looked like it’d contain a car manual. Once open, I saw that instead it held a number of plastic bags, no bigger than the size of a credit card. He sifted through the bags. I knitted my fingers together anxiously and stared out the bug-splattered windshield. “I can give you a couple pills,” he said. “I’ll need to call my brother for more next week. You’re not my only customer, you know.”

  I pivoted in my seat and leaned just a fraction of a degree forward. I was still wearing only my sports bra and yoga pants. “But I’m your prettiest, right?” I joked.

  He pressed his lips together and appraised me. “You’ve got that right. Okay, fine. I can do a week’s worth, but that’s it. Deal?”

  I nodded. My fingers were jittery as I pulled my own gym bag onto my lap and dug around for my wallet. I did some quick math in my head, counted out eighty dollars, and held it out for him. “Discount for buying in bulk,” I said.

  A dimple cut into his cheek. “Whatever you say, captain.” He passed me two of the miniature plastic bags and I quickly stowed them in my bag. Members of the Oilerettes were beginning to make their way into the parking lot.

  “I should leave,” I said. “Thanks for this.” I popped open the door and climbed out.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Cassidy Hyde.” He gave me a salute and, as soon as I closed the door, he was peeling out of his parking spot and away from the lot.

  I stood there in the dust left behind from his tires spinning in gravel. I waved the cloud away, coughing.

  “Cassidy!” someone called from a car nearby. “Cassidy, over here!”

  My eyes strained against the darkening backdrop. I searched, following the voice, until at last I saw a hand waving through an open car window. I couldn’t make out the face inside.

  My shoes crunched the gravel of the parking lot. I walked slowly over to the other car, an old VW Bug, painted an uneven blue, as though that hadn’t been the original color. A girl got out and stood kicking her toe into the ground. I didn’t recognize her. She had thick, dark bangs, wide eyes, and wore a jean jacket that was too big for her.

  “Hi,” I said, plastering on a smile. “How’s it going?”

  Paisley and I had different philosophies on Hollow Pines’s lower social caste. She preferred the “let them eat cake” approach and hardly deigned to talk to the girls that tended to try to get our attention in hopes of scoring a spot on the Oilerettes—or at least at our lunch table—while I leaned toward a gentler touch. After all, wasn’t I living proof that any of these girls could be a shopping spree and a Weight Watchers membership away from the ladder’s top rung?

  I studied her for a moment. Dark clothes. Dark hair. Thin. Skin that had clearly never been touched by the sun—less Gwyneth Paltrow, more Walking Dead. I pegged her either for drama or band, with an outside shot of a glee club member. Either way, she wasn’t exactly going to be up for any class superlatives.

  The girl’s bangs fell over her eyes and stuck to her lashes. “I … was hoping I could find you here. Sorry. I just wanted to thank you—”

  My forehead wrinkled, not following. “Thank me for what?” Had I donated to her bake sale or charity drive in the last few weeks without remembering? It was possible.

  “The other night.” She twisted a silver ring on her middle finger. “I know you … didn’t exactly catch me at my finest and, um, I’m sorry for that. It’s embarrassing. But I wanted you to know that I’m grateful.”

  I looked around to see if there was anyone else to whom she could possibly be talking. “I think you must be confusing me with someone else,” I said, when I was clearly the only person within earshot.

  She hesitated. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Is it, like, weird that I’m here or something?” For a girl I didn’t even know, she sure did apologize a lot. Then, she clapped her hand to her forehead. “Stupid me. Marcy. You like being called Marcy now, I guess, right? It was late. I wasn’t sure if that was a joke … or something.”

  “Marcy?” So this wasn’t the typical Oilerette cling-on. This girl was straight-up delusional. “Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t know a Marcy. My name’s Cassidy.” I held out my hand, if only because my Southern manners were so deeply ingrained that I couldn’t help myself. “Cassidy Hyde.”

  The girl unlaced her fingers and hesitantly took my hand. Her skin was ice-cold. “I know,” she said, looking between my eyes and our palms pressed together. “I’m Lena … we met two nights ago … I—I know you remember.”

  Without meaning to, I snatched my hand away. She startled as if I’d burned her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said more abruptly now.

  “Is it because I’m a sophomore here?” she asked, beginning to take a step forward. She froze when she noticed me tense. “Because it’s not like I’m wanting to sit at your lunch table or anything. I’m not trying to embarrass you. I just wanted to thank you. Properly. Sometimes I think I make people uncomfortable and—”

  “Look,” I said, moving my gym bag to the other shoulder. The parking lot was emptying out now. Exhausted, all the other Oilerettes had made it into their cars without the usual gossip and joking around. My own stomach rumbled, reminding me it was dinnertime. “I don’t know you and, trust me, that has nothing to do with your age. It was nice meeting you, Lena, but I—I need to go.”

  “Wait.” Her dark eyes held me in place. “Please, take my number.” Before I could stop her she took a notebook from her bag, tore a corner off the top, and was scribbling on it. She shoved it in my hand. I pursed my lips and tried to decide what to do with it. The sound I made was noncommittal. A brush-off.

  I backpedaled and then with a final glance at the girl with the dark bangs, deep-set eyes, and too much jewelry, I turned and headed for my car. I was several paces away and had just clicked the button on my keys so that the headlights flickered twice, when Lena called from behind me, “I think we should both stay away from Dearborn.” Icy tendrils branched from my ankles up through my spine at the mention of Dearborn. “Be safe, Marcy.”

  Blood thudded against my ears. I didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t stop. I quickened my steps the rest of the gray distance between me and my car and, once inside, ripped the scrap of paper in two and let its remains flutter into my cup holder. And then I fled. Without looking back.

  EIGHT

  Marcy

  The sound of a thudding bass floated down the street and shook the windows of the Beta Psi house. Construction paper blacked out the windows, but the painted white sheet still draped from the second story, announcing tonight’s throwback rave.

  A lucky break.

  College students stumbled in and out of the house, talking in loud voices as though they hadn’t adjusted to the drop in volume outdoors. I traveled up the walkway, slipping in among them, and made my way into the home of the Beta Psi brotherhood.

  Immediately, I was plunged into frenzied flashes of on-off darkness. Strobe lights blinked and the world around me shrank disconcertingly to the distance I could see between blinding flickers of light. I hadn’t known what to expect. What was a throwback rave, anyway? Now I saw girls dressed in neon spandex, ponytails crimped and swept to the side. Boys wore aviator sunglasses and tank tops with atrocious patterns, all homages to a much tac
kier decade. Glow necklaces were worn around heads, necks, and wrists, giving the illusion of moving targets. And from somewhere a black light shone over the crowd, turning white T-shirts electric blue and Crest-strip smiles eerily radioactive in the dark.

  I hovered near the entrance, letting my eyes adjust. Gradually, I began to thread my way through the thrashing bodies, cups of beer, and swirling smoke. The music pounded my chest, egging me on as I searched the faces.

  I wouldn’t be greedy tonight. One boy. A tasty appetizer. That would be my prize. I worked the room, passing a banister, a tarp-covered pool table, and a keg.

  “Do you know a Beta Psi brother about this height?” I yelled in the ear of a guy filling up his cup from the keg hose and held up my hand to suggest a person only an inch taller than me.

  His grin was sloppy. He raised his cup. “Cheers,” he yelled back.

  I waved him off and moved on.

  I tried again. “A Beta Psi brother. This height?”

  The boy appraised me, shrugged, and pointed to his ear like he couldn’t hear before wandering away. Frustration built up inside me.

  I disappeared into the throng of people who were all oblivious to my hunt. Faces appeared and disappeared in stop-motion. Disorienting. A nightmarish haze. I was tracing the entire perimeter of the downstairs floor when my heart fell out of rhythm with the music. There he was. Short One. The one who’d watched from behind his video camera.

  It was my turn to watch him now. He stood smiling over a red cup, talking with two boys that I didn’t recognize. Their faces blurred into the background. Neither of them were part of my evening. They were collateral.

  Short One wore a bright yellow T-shirt and white shorts that glowed underneath the black light. Target practice. Hatred bubbled up from my gut like a pot of water reaching its boiling point.

  I found you.

  I removed the knife from the pocket of my black hoodie and stashed it in the side of my boot. I then unzipped the hoodie and draped it over my arm. Underneath, I was wearing a skintight black tank top. I cupped my breasts and pushed them higher up in my bra. Better.