Unnatural Deeds

by Cyn Balog

  We stood up. I came around the side of the fence and you hugged me. That’s when you said, “Is that why you’re running every morning?”

  “What?” I didn’t think you’d noticed. But you must have seen me from your bedroom window, leaving the house early each morning.

  “To try something different.” You leaned against the picket fence, the little twinkling, purple lights casting an unnatural glow on your pale face as you scratched at your temple. “Because correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you telling me that the only reason to run is when something with pointy teeth is chasing you.”

  I laughed. You were right. I had said that.

  You took me by the hand and made me twirl like a dancer as you inspected me. I’d lost maybe fifteen pounds by then. “Trying new things is definitely working for you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, blushing. “I actually like running. I’m lifting weights too. I like not feeling weak.”

  I made a bicep and you felt it. “Impressive. Let’s face it. I have a hot girlfriend.”

  Hot. I’d never imagined I’d be described as that.

  You smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in your eyes. Like you knew I was growing apart from you, and there was nothing you could do to bring me back.

  Chapter 24

  Two Duchess residents were arrested for possession of crystal meth.

  William Blanchette, 30, and Bethany Lynn Montez, 26, are being charged with possession of a controlled substance. The two were taken into custody on Tuesday as part of an ongoing investigation, according to Piscataquis County Sheriff Van Elkins.

  Elkins said a search warrant was executed for Blanchette’s and Montez’s residence, 1465 Maine Highway 11, Duchess. “We seized 15 grams of ice, or crystal methamphetamine, and two firearms,” Thomas said. “One was a 45mm pistol. The second was a 12-gauge shotgun. Various other drug production paraphernalia was obtained.”

  —Central Maine Express Times

  The next week, we had play rehearsals after school.

  Since Z had fall ball to think about, I asked him if he would be there for all of our scheduled rehearsals, and he said that he would. He said something about being there with bells on, all over his body, and then winked suggestively.

  But he never showed.

  Sure, it was exasperating, never knowing what to expect from him. But at the same time, that was part of his appeal. And he knew it. He liked making people guess.

  We all sat on the edge of the stage as Mrs. Reese introduced each of us and the parts we would be playing. A lot of us kept glancing at the door, waiting for the last, all-important actor to show.

  When Mrs. Reese got to the end of introductions, she looked up and around. “Where’s Z?” she asked over her bifocals, tapping her script.

  We all shrugged. Then Mrs. Reese shrugged and muttered, “Well, that’s not good,” and marked something on her clipboard.

  Without him there, I was out-of-my-mind nervous. The confidence boost I’d gotten from beating out Parker had already faded, and I’d spent every evening since the casting announcement memorizing my lines in my room. I thought about asking Z to practice with me, but his mind was on fall ball. Most of his free time was spent huddled with the other jocks.

  In the afternoons, I’d see him heading out in his baseball uniform, shirt opened and untucked over a clean, white undershirt that clung nicely to his defined chest, while he effortlessly tossed the ball into his glove. The uniform and baseball hat made him look, in Parker’s words, “infinitely lickable,” whatever that meant. I’m sure seeing him in action on the field would make him even more so. But I needed to practice my lines.

  And he evidently didn’t.

  And now he wasn’t even at rehearsal. I wondered if Reese would make a fuss and replace him with Quincy, who was already rolling his eyes at the disgrace of Z’s absence. Instead, Reese just clapped her hands and had us practice the first scene, which didn’t include Macbeth. And that was that.

  Quincy had been given the part of MacDuff, Macbeth’s main antagonist and killer, and though Parker didn’t get a part—she was my understudy, which was a nice way of saying “better luck next year”—her best friend Rachel did. She was the gentlewoman, Lady Macbeth’s caretaker, so we were in a lot of scenes together. I cringed whenever she walked near me because the looks she gave me were no nicer than the ones Parker kept shooting me from the wings. Part of the scene included Rachel pretending to powder my nose, and the first time, she punched me in the face as I was saying my line.

  “Ow!” I shouted, pushing her arm away.

  “My mistake,” she said with a shrug. Then she did it again.

  “Ow!” I said again.

  Gentlewoman, my ass.

  Reese was oblivious. “Victoria, ow is not in any of your lines.”

  I glared at Rachel and we started again. By the time we finished the scene, Rachel had shoved me once and elbowed me three times. My body ached. This was no way for the lead actress to be treated. When Reese dismissed us, I went to the water fountain. As I straightened after taking a gulp, Rachel was standing beside me. “Where’s Z?” she snapped.

  I shrugged and tried to walk away, but she grabbed me by the arm.

  “He’s going to ruin the play.”

  In many situations, I found myself wondering how Z would react, what he would say. This time, I knew exactly how he would respond. I rolled my eyes. “It’s only a fucking school play.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you even try out for it then?” she huffed. Then she smiled. “Oh, that’s right. You’re his little right-hand girl.”

  I rolled my eyes again and started to push past her, but she stopped me.

  “Stop it with the high-and-mighty smirk. You don’t really think you got the part because you’re so talented, do you?”

  Really, I didn’t think I was talented at all, but I’d beaten Parker, fair and square. “I’m more talented than Parker, obviously.”

  “Because Reese picked you? Don’t flatter yourself. Z got her to choose you,” she spat out.

  I burst out laughing. “What? Is he sleeping with her too?”

  “Fine. Don’t believe me. Whatever,” she said, walking away.

  I wanted to be like Z and rise above the gossip, but for the rest of the night, Rachel’s words were all I could think of. In fact, I missed meeting up with you because after I got home, I had to rush and do my chemistry homework, then spent the rest of the night staring at my dog-eared copy of Macbeth and wondering if Z had arranged for me to get the role. He’d been so sure I was going to get it. He hadn’t been surprised at all by the posting. That was typical of him, to be so cocky and sure, but…had he done something to ensure I got the part? Was it even possible to put a teacher—particularly a hard-nosed old lady like Reese—in his back pocket?

  No, that was ridiculous.

  But then I thought of the way Reese would smile at him.

  I thought of Parker sneering at me earlier. He bought her. OK, yes, he did have an uncanny ability to make everyone a little giddy whenever he passed by. He had incited the whole school into a rumor-spreading frenzy, trying to figure out what made him tick. But his influence stopped there. It certainly didn’t spread to teachers, and most definitely not to Reese.

  Right?

  I wasn’t sleeping when pebbles tapped against my window that night. It was a moonless night, and I had to blink a few times to make sure it was not my imagination. But there he was, standing in my yard. Since his last visit, I’d taken to wearing nicer pajamas and not gunking white cream on my zits, just in case.

  I checked my clock. 2:00 a.m. It really was the middle of the night this time. Turning on my bedside lamp, I checked my door—closed and locked.

  When he climbed up, I started to say, “Where were you?” but his eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d been awake for hours up
on hours. “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  “You ever just want to tell everyone to go to hell?” he muttered, looking at the ground.

  “Why?”

  “They’re at it again, aren’t they, spreading rumors about me that aren’t true?”

  “Well…”

  He snorted. “I’m not a fucking sorcerer. I can’t make people do things. And I didn’t make Reese give you that part. They’re out of their minds.”

  I relaxed and started to agree with him, that it was all a stupid misunderstanding, that they were just jealous of us for landing the lead roles. But he kept going, talking so fast I couldn’t get a word in.

  He said, “I told Reese that as an actor, I’d be more comfortable with you, and she agreed that was important. She was salivating to have me in the play, so I told her we were a package deal. I told her I wouldn’t do it unless you were my Lady Macbeth, and she caved.”

  “Wait. What?”

  He said, “You’re not angry at me too? I mean, I did it for you. I think this will be good for you.”

  I cringed at the way he looked at me, like I was a defenseless three-year-old and he was my doting parent. “Because it’ll get me out there?”

  “Well, yeah. And because you told me English was your worst subject. Now you’re guaranteed a good grade.”

  The heat rose to my cheeks.

  “You’re mad?” He threw up his hands. “Fuck.”

  “No, I’m not,” I assured him. I wasn’t mad. More like deflated. Embarrassed. What Rachel had told me was essentially true. I wasn’t a great actress. Z had arranged the part for me. But looking at him with his eyes pleading, my heart softened. He’d done it for me. Because he wanted me to be happy. Did the rest even matter? “I… You didn’t have to do that. I mean, thank you.”

  “Sorry I missed the first rehearsal. I was, you know…dealing with a bunch of shit you don’t want to know about.” He balled his hands into fists, then slowly uncurled them. “Part of me doesn’t even want to be Macbeth if people think I bought my way in.”

  “You didn’t buy your way in,” I murmured. “Just mine.”

  “Oh, fuck it,” he muttered. “The only reason Parker would have gotten the role is because her daddy pays Reese’s salary. She blew and you knew it.”

  “I kind of…um…blew too.”

  “No, you were fine. She couldn’t even remember a few lines. You deserved that part. No one should be getting worked up. I mean, it’s a fucking school play.” He waved his hand dismissively. He got up from his perch on the windowsill and walked to my bed, where the wrinkled sheets told the story of the restless night I’d had. He sat down on the corner of my bed, leaned back on his palms, and surveyed the walls. I’d already gotten rid of all my unicorn posters, so the walls were mostly bare—with little pinpoints where the tacks once were. “Nice room,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  He leaned over and picked up my weekly medication organizer. “What’re these for?”

  “Oh, I…” I tensed. Z wouldn’t understand anxiety. He’d likely never had a nervous day in his life. “I take them for… Sometimes I’m…” Sometimes I need to take a shitload of pills to deal with the ordinary stress of everyday life that most people have no problem handling. I bit my tongue.

  He set the pill box down and waited. When I didn’t say more, he said, “Sometimes you’re what? Adorable?”

  I blinked, shocked, and started to blush again. Did he really think that? “No, I…”

  He grinned. “You are. Especially when you do that.”

  I covered my hot cheeks with my hands. This was not happening, was it? Maybe it was a dream.

  I think Z could tell I was freaked out by him sitting on my bed. I mean, a guy on my bed? My parents would have loved that one. He stood up. “So, we’re good?” he asked, hunching over a little to stare into my eyes. For some reason, I couldn’t raise my chin from my chest. He was on my bed.

  I nodded. “Are you OK though?”

  “Yeah. Now that I’ve seen you,” he said with a wink. “Thanks.”

  He tried to move around me. In the cramped space between the bed and the window, we wound up doing an awkward, close-but-not-touching dance until I slipped on one of my throw pillows. He caught me to steady me. So embarrassing.

  “Whoa. Been drinking?” he teased.

  “Um, been sleeping, actually.”

  “Oh. Right. Hey, I just remembered,” he said, still holding on to one of my elbows as he snapped his fingers and reached into his back pocket. “I have something for you. Close your eyes and count to three.”

  I smiled. Candy, I thought. Another gift like he’d left in my locker. I closed my eyes and counted silently.

  And then I felt his lips on mine.

  I opened my eyes, startled. “What was that?”

  His face turned a warm shade of red, a color he wore impeccably well, though I’d never seen him embarrassed before. “I…well… How about them Sox?” He gave me a Well, that didn’t go like I’d planned it shrug. So he’d been planning on kissing me all this time? “I’d better go.”

  Instinctively, desperately, I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt. “No, I mean, obviously, I know what that was. But why?”

  He put his palms up. “I just thought, why not?”

  “I wasn’t expecting it. I…” I began to babble, but all the while a warm feeling was growing inside me. Z had kissed me. I hadn’t known it was going to happen. And now it was over. Would I be able to remember exactly how it felt?

  I know I should have been thinking about you, Andrew, about how kissing another guy was wrong. But it felt like a dream. Z in my room. On. My. Bed. So when he pulled me against him and said, “Well, now you can expect it. Because I’m going to do it again,” I didn’t stop him.

  I put my fingertips on the stubbly side of his jaw, and when his lips met mine, they were warm and soft and so, so sweet.

  I’m not going to say more, Andrew. You don’t want to know. But I should have known he would be sweet and decadent. That’s the way it always is with forbidden fruit.

  Chapter 25

  Were you aware of a drug problem at St. Ann’s?

  There’s hardly a school in the country that can claim to be drug-free, but no, I didn’t detect it to be an issue with the students in my classes.

  Did you have any suspicions as to who may have been behind the theft of the hydrochloric acid from your lab?

  No, none at all. If they’d swiped it to get high, big mistake. There are plenty of substances in my lab for that, but HCl is not one of them.

  What happened after the theft?

  I received a warning from Principal Cole, and I did what I had to do. I tightened security. Changed the locks on the cabinet. No one will be getting in there now.

  —Police interview with Jeffrey Lincoln, chemistry teacher at St. Ann’s

  I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow. In the days that followed, my life centered around the Kiss. It had lasted no more than a minute, but it consumed my mind for hours. It was as if it had elevated my life to a greater meaning. I know that’s stupid. I should have felt ashamed, like a low-down cheating wreck, but instead, I felt as if I was worth more. That’s how twisted things were.

  I said about two dozen acts of contrition, still trembling in bed, wide awake and feeling the pressure of his lips on mine. Then my phone dinged.

  THAT was the sexiest kiss EVER.

  Over the next few weeks, I’d get texts like that all the time.

  I can’t stop thinking about you.

  You look hot today.

  When can I kiss you again?

  And on and on. The weeks went by quickly. I felt as if I were living inside a dream where time was insignificant. What do I remember? We rehearsed Macbeth together. It turned out there were no m
ake-out scenes between the Macbeths, but that was of little consequence. Offstage, we made out all the time. We were constantly inventing ways to be alone together, like volunteering to look for props backstage together, or whatever. Whenever we did, Z would pin me against the wall and we would make out for as long as we could without anyone getting suspicious. We both knew the importance of keeping our relationship a secret. There were enough rumors swirling around about Z, and we didn’t want to add to the gossip. It was our secret—beautiful, exciting, and all-consuming.

  I got lost in him. When I wasn’t kissing Z, I was thinking about it, replaying each second in my mind to the point of madness. Like where he’d traced kisses down my chin to the hollow of my throat, how he’d swept the hair from my face, how he’d groaned when he pulled away from me, like he couldn’t stand to put any distance between our bodies. Being with him was all I ever thought about, so much so that I turned in a chemistry test with an entire page blank. (Lincoln called me back and made me correct it.) I couldn’t concentrate on any of my homework. I missed countless dates outside with you. At first I told you I was busy, and I really was—rehearsals were taking up so much of my time. But after a while, I just couldn’t face you. You always saw through my lies.

  I don’t know why I’m telling you this now, Andrew. It can’t be good to hear. I guess I want you to know how twisted things were. I was happy, but it was a false happiness, so fragile and easily ruptured. But at the time, I thought that this was meant to happen. Even if Z and I were hurting other people, I told myself that eventually everyone would see that being together was what was best for Z and me. Our feelings for each other were uncontrollable, written in the stars, so beautiful and right that all the angels in heaven were smiling.

  God, that’s stupid. I’m a horrible, selfish person, Andrew. I knew my being with Z would hurt you, but I never pushed him away. I should’ve pushed him away.

  After a week of that, it felt as if the pieces of my life were falling into place. With Z’s help, I’d gotten the part of Lady Macbeth down. Acting beside him brought out a different side of me—I felt confident, beautiful, and powerful. My fellow actors seemed to see me, respect me. Macbeth was no longer just some stupid school play—it was so much more.