Unnatural Deeds

by Cyn Balog

  I froze as the liquid touched my tongue. It tasted sour. The smell was overpowering, acrid, bringing tears to my eyes.

  Rachel skipped over to me and grabbed her bottle from the ledge.

  “Somebody put something in my water,” I whispered.

  She looked at me like, yeah, right. I shoved it under her nose, and she sniffed. Her eyes widened. “Mrs. Reese!” she screamed. “Oh my God! Mrs. Reese!”

  A small circle began to form around us, and Mrs. Reese appeared a moment later. Rachel thrust the bottle under the nose of just about everyone who came near. The reaction was almost exactly the same: disgust, then eye-popping fear, then a scramble to test their own bottles. “Somebody poisoned her water bottle!” Rachel cried, and it practically became a chant.

  Mrs. Reese was momentarily speechless for once when Rachel stuck my water bottle under her nose. “Give that to me,” she snapped, and then pulled out her cell phone. Principal Cole’s booming voice echoed through the line as Z broke through the crowd.

  Z didn’t ask what had happened.

  He didn’t have to.

  It didn’t matter that his lips were rubbed red from being suctioned by Parker’s mouth. When Z put his hands on my shoulders, I forgot I’d nearly been poisoned. “Did you drink any?” he asked.

  In the middle of my thank-you prayer to God—Z was looking at me again, touching me, caring for me!—it occurred to me that I had to formulate a response. “Just a…a few drops.”

  With Reese still on the phone, Z took control of the situation. “Move away. Let’s sit her down.” He put his arm around me to guide me to a chair. Someone handed him a cup of cold water. “Drink this,” he said. After I’d downed the whole thing, he asked, “How do you feel?” I managed a “fine,” when really, I felt nothing short of bliss. My tongue didn’t burn; my esophagus didn’t tingle. I felt no pain in my chest…just this enormous giddiness.

  He had left Parker to care for me. To sit by my side.

  Well, of course he had. Z thrived on being the center of attention. And this was the center. For now, anyway.

  The next thing I knew, a new chant rose over the cast, emanating from where Reese was hunched over, finger blocking one ear as she talked into her cell phone. She’s calling the police!

  My throat seized. I looked at Z. Again, he didn’t appear worried, but when had he ever?

  “Miss Zell,” Reese called, “I’m having them send an ambulance. Hold on.”

  Z spoke up. “I’ll take her to the emergency room. I can get her there quicker.”

  I melted. Although he’d pretended I was invisible for the past week, he did care. He helped me gather my books. As he walked me out of the gymnasium, I caught a glimpse of Parker staring after us, ready to spit fire, even though I was the one who drank the acid. I smiled as he held open the door to his Civic like a total gentleman. When he drove out of the parking lot, he turned. We weren’t heading south toward Eastern Maine Medical Center. Instead, we sped off north toward Duchess.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  He smiled. “Don’t give me that. I know where you want to go.”

  Damn him. “Are you kidding me? My esophagus could be corroding as we speak.”

  “But it’s not,” he said very surely.

  I refused to give in so easily. He’d driven me absolutely nuts the past few weeks, acting as if I didn’t matter at all to him. I wanted to hurt him so that he’d never ditch me again. “Fuck you,” I growled. It was the first time I ever said such a thing. I crossed my arms. “Turn around.”

  He didn’t. He shifted and pressed on the accelerator.

  “Do it,” I demanded. When he didn’t, I reached over and pulled the wheel.

  That got him. “Hey!” He overcorrected and we careened into oncoming traffic. The driver coming at us laid on his horn, its sound echoing in my ears as the car swerved and narrowly missed us. Z shook his head and then pulled into the nearest parking lot, for a Presbyterian church. He cut the ignition and stared at me. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “We’re even now. You tried to kill me. Just returning the favor.”

  “What? You mean the acid? Dammit, Vic.” He pounded the steering wheel with the palms of his hands. “Why would I do that? Oh yeah, I’m an evil genius who goes around killing high school students for the fun of it. You’re out of your mind.”

  We stared at each other for the longest time.

  Then he shook his head and bowed it, and when he looked up again, he was laughing. I laughed too. His moods were always so contagious. I’d just been poisoned, and yet we couldn’t stop laughing our asses off.

  “Why did you do it?” I asked him.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Come on, Vic. Don’t tell me you don’t have any clue who stole the acid.”

  I studied him. “I don’t.”

  He just stared. “Tell me. Is your wide-eyed innocence an act?”

  “No. I have no idea who did it. Do you?”

  He leaned back in his seat and raked his hands through his hair, then stared out the windshield. “I am in league with some crazy, crazy bitches,” he mumbled.

  I sighed. “You don’t seem to mind Parker’s craziness. You’re with her a lot these days.”

  “What? Is that jealousy?” he asked, a playful smile on his face. “You’re something else, Vic. You have a boyfriend you haven’t been faithful to. You told people details I told you in confidence. And then you go and put on this innocent ‘poor me’ act, when you’re the one who made this bed.”

  My face started to heat. He’d always been the one who played dangerous, not me. How had I become the bad guy? I reached for the door. I’d walk home, if I had to.

  Z didn’t try to stop me. He knew I wouldn’t dare leave. He adjusted his rearview mirror and said, “You told me I can’t trust anyone. And you’re right. I don’t. Not anymore. I’m a lone wolf.”

  “Some lone wolf,” I mumbled, sinking down into the seat to let him talk.

  His face turned serious. “I’m doing what I need to do. Chemistry is the only class standing between me and college. Lincoln has it in for me. He’s threatened to fail me on more than one occasion. Parker told me that she often does a little ‘repair work’ on her grades, and she could help me once the teachers submit them in December.”

  “Z! Parker might be able to get away with it, but you could get expelled. Not to mention, there are easier ways to pass chemistry. Why don’t you just talk to Lincoln? He’d give you extra credit or—”

  “I’ve tried everything. He has it in for me.”

  I stared at him, unable to believe that someone was immune to Z’s silver tongue. “No, he doesn’t. He’s not some—”

  “What can I say? I have no power over the guy. I don’t look half as good in a skirt as you girls do. Come on. You really think I want to be with Parker?” he asked, scowling. “Give me more credit than that. She’s hot, but she will not shut up for a second. She’s annoying as hell.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I mustered, “You’re the one who agreed to go to the dance with her.”

  He sighed. “Don’t remind me. Hey, you’re going too, right? With that fabulously talented boyfriend of yours?”

  “I, er…” I started. I’d planned to leave that perfect dress hanging in my closet. I couldn’t ask you to withstand that kind of social torture after what I’d done the night of the Perahia concert. But now, with Z looking at me, hopeful…maybe… “I could go alone.”

  “No, that would be weird. But if I drove you and your boyfriend, like a double date, then I wouldn’t have to be alone with her.”

  “No,” I said, twisting my hands together. “I mean, Andrew and I were thinking of doing something else. But…” Oh God, I couldn’t say no. Not with the way he was looking at me. “Maybe we could go to the dance for a little while. If
you really didn’t want to be alone with her.”

  He nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t.” He reached over and started to play with the lock of hair near my ear. His other hand snaked over the center console and somehow found my knee under layers of the thick velvet of Lady Macbeth’s dress. He grinned. “They did not make it easy to get it on back then.”

  “Not happening,” I said, pushing his hand away, surprised at how resolute my voice sounded. If he asked again, I knew I’d be a goner.

  He conceded. “Are you feeling better, Lady M?”

  I nodded.

  Then he drove me home. He didn’t try anything, which I half hated, half thanked God for. I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom and hung my dress on a hanger for tomorrow’s performance, then raced back outside.

  You were sitting in our space. The sky was spitting little icy pellets, and yet, there you were, propped up against the fence, still as a statue. Funny, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come out here to meet you. And yet, there you were.

  “Hi!” I said too brightly.

  “Vic?” you asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here. So…you come out here even when I don’t? Even when it rains?”

  Your voice was soft and somber. “It helps me to think.”

  I slid down against the fence, my sweater catching on some stray splinters. I didn’t care that my spot of ground was damp. I didn’t care that it was cold. I didn’t care because life was finally going right again. “Do you hate me?”

  I heard you pop a bubble. You passed me a stick of Juicy Fruit and said, “I could never hate you, Vic.”

  I tried to think of something to say to that, but I couldn’t. Because sometimes I hated you so fiercely I thought I would die. The last night we’d spoken, on your birthday, I’d told you how much I hated you, how I wished you would man up and stop being such a wimp. I’d become your stepfather, the person you despised most in the world.

  And yet you still didn’t hate me.

  I shivered in the silence, rubbing the goose bumps from my arms. Finally, you said, “I’m looking forward to seeing your acting debut.”

  I smiled. “You’re still coming?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  I cringed, remembering I’d said the same thing about your birthday.

  “Hey,” I said. “Maybe we can do something on Saturday night?”

  Excitement crept into your voice. It had been a long, long time since we’d done anything together as a couple. “Really?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah. There’s this dance at school.”

  A long silence followed. I knew what was going on in your head, Andrew. We never went to dances before. You know better than to ask me to a dance. All those people. All that dancing! All that awkward social interaction. No thanks! We used to be on the same page about this. But I also know you were thinking about my “man up” speech. You wanted to please me, you adorable, wonderful person, you. “If it would make you happy, Vic,” you said quietly.

  “It would.”

  “I returned the tuxedo already.”

  “That would be overdressing. You can wear whatever you want, really.”

  “I’d have to ask my mother if she could drive—”

  “Someone will pick us up.”

  Excuses gone, I could almost feel the panic gripping you. I reached between the slats and tried to grab your hand and reassure you, but couldn’t find it. “It’ll be fun.”

  My mother appeared at the back door, silhouetted in the light from the kitchen. Her voice was an octave higher than normal. “Victoria. There’s a policeman here to see you.”

  I stood up and wiped the wet dirt from my backside.

  You said, “What’s going on?”

  “Someone put something in my water bottle at rehearsal.”

  You stood up. Your voice was concerned. “They did? What?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it was a prank. Just some hydrochloric acid.”

  “Acid? Prank? Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Obviously. Who’d want to hurt me?” I smiled, desperately trying to add levity to the conversation, since you were about two steps from freaking out. “You know how sweet and innocent I am.”

  “You’re not all that sweet and innocent,” you countered, craning your neck for a look at the strange car parked in the driveway.

  I smacked you. “Shut up.”

  You massaged your arm. “Ouch. All right, you’re pure as the driven snow. With a really deadly right hook.” You dug your hands in your pocket and rocked back on your heels, like you always did when you were thinking. “Um, well, OK.” You said it like it was obviously not.

  “What?” I said.

  You shook your head. “I was just wondering why that wasn’t the first thing you told me. Because someone almost killing you is kind of a big deal.”

  “It was just a joke,” I said. “And I’m kind of…in shock over it.”

  Admit it, Andrew. I’m the most horrible liar ever. I should have cared about the poisoning, but it meant nothing to me, not after my conversation with Z. Not like I could tell you that. My mother was standing in the doorway, twisting her hands nervously. I would have to endure about a thousand questions from her and the police officer, and I dreaded that almost as much as I dreaded the third degree from you.

  “So…dance. OK?”

  Do you remember what you said, Andrew? You said, “Are you sure you don’t want to go with someone else?”

  “Who else would I go with?” I asked. “I want to go with my boyfriend.”

  “And t-that’s me?” you stuttered.

  I blinked. You never stuttered with me. I made myself answer right away, so as not to call attention to it. “Of course it is. Why even ask?”

  You waited a long time before you spoke. “I feel like you’re moving away from me.”

  “Never. I’m here. I’ll always be right here,” I told you, and I meant it. I still mean it. Sometimes friends move apart, but the best ones always come back.

  Chapter 33

  How was the performance?

  It went off without a hitch.

  Z was good?

  He was competent. But…

  But?

  But everyone was on edge. The theater group at St. Ann’s is like a family within a family. And we knew there was a cat among the pigeons. Moreover, it felt like… We all felt as though the acid incident was a prelude, and the real tragedy was yet to come. We were all holding our breath, waiting for something to happen. But I don’t think anyone guessed how bad it would be.

  —Police interview with Quincy Laughlin, senior at St. Ann’s

  It isn’t right to have one person mean so much.

  At rehearsal, when I thought Z hated me, my words came out in a jumble. I could scarcely remember to breathe. But then, everything fell into place.

  During the performance, I kept looking out from the wings to try to spot you. It was too dark though. I figured you were likely in the very back, since you hated sitting next to strangers. But the thought of you, watching me and smiling, buoyed me. Even with a thousand eyes on me, I hardly felt jittery at all. After the performance, there were three curtain calls. Reese floated about backstage, calling the cast “inspired” and “a revelation.”

  And I understood because that’s what Z was to me.

  I was hugged and congratulated by people I didn’t even know. But I didn’t care about them. There was only one hug that stood out in my mind, and it was the first one I received, the second the curtains swung closed. Z wrapped his arms around me, kissed me on the ear, and whispered, “You’re a fucking acting maniac, Lady M.”

  How could I not love him after that?

  Not that I didn’t already love him.

  I mean, as a friend.

  Of course, Z was incredible. I d
oubt classically trained actors with years of experience could have churned out as moving a performance. Still, he went around, congratulating every last actor, every last stagehand—from Quincy, who’d been a perfectly acceptable MacDuff, to someone’s twelve-year-old little sister who was in charge of making sure no one tampered with the water bottles again. He made everyone feel important.

  News of the water-bottle incident had spread like wildfire and definitely rattled the quiet student body of St. Ann’s. Principal Cole gave a speech before the performance about how they were taking what had happened very seriously, determined to get to the bottom of it, et cetera, et cetera. According to Rachel, the police had come after Z and I left. They’d questioned people, searched the gymnasium, and found the empty vial in a nearby trash can. They took the vial in for fingerprinting. But really, the only person who got a strict tongue-lashing was Lincoln for not taking more care in storing his chemicals. In fact, rumors swirled that his job was on the line.

  No doubt Z loved that.

  After the performance, I spent as long as I could backstage. Nobody ate the Great Job! layer cake from Shaw’s supermarket—partly because, as you know, layer cakes from Shaw’s are always crappy and partly because everyone feared it was poisoned—but we all stood around it, congratulating one another. Parker hadn’t been onstage, so she just kind of slinked into the background. Tonight was my night, for once. I’d never felt so adored, so a part of the St. Ann’s family.

  Being onstage must release endorphins because I was pumped, and so was Z. He looked hotter than I’d ever seen him. After we changed, he came out of the dressing room wearing his jeans, a raggedy T-shirt, and the immaculate, royal Macbeth cape. He held it in front of his face, like Dracula. I giggled. Then he reached into the garment bag I was holding, which had my costume I was returning to wardrobe, and pulled out my regal red cape. He swung it over my head and tightened it at the neck. “I vant to suck your blood,” he said.

  “Not if I suck yours first,” I said, making my pointer fingers into fangs and wiggling them in his direction.

  He grabbed for me, and I shrieked and ran away. Laughing, he chased me all the way out to the hallway, where I stopped short. He caught up to me and threw his arm over my shoulder. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I swatted him away.