Burntown

by Jennifer McMahon

  “Let’s say I have a friend,” Hannah said, still talking to the pillow beside her. “And maybe this friend gets me products to sell. Things people want. And maybe I sell them and make a little money.”

  Theo sat up. “What kinds of products?”

  “He can get just about anything,” Hannah said, still not looking at Theo. Smoothing the fabric of her pillow while she spoke. “Pills, heroin, weed. One time, he says he even got some of that new thing, the Devil’s Snuff. There’s a huge demand for that—you wouldn’t believe what people are willing to pay! Some people, they don’t even think it exists—but the people who’ve had it, they say it changed their lives. Gave them visions. Showed them things. You’re never the same after you take it.”

  “So wait, you’re a drug dealer?” Theo could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  Suddenly, Hannah turned to look at Theo and smiled, ran her hands along Theo’s naked back. “My friend and I, we were thinking it might be nice to branch out. You know, sell products to a different group. But it’s not like I could go waltzing into a high school and set up shop, right? We’d need someone their age, someone who goes to school there, who blends in. Someone no one would ever suspect of being caught up in anything…illegal.”

  Theo had a sinking feeling then, that Hannah had planned their whole meeting, their whole relationship, around this one moment. Hannah had seen a lonely-looking high school girl and known that if she played her cards right, she could get Theo to do whatever she wanted. But the sinking feeling was followed by a realization—Theo didn’t care. She honestly didn’t give a shit if she was being used. And even if she was, she knew what she and Hannah had was real. Theo felt it each time they were together; the magnetic pull, the desperate way they kissed as soon as they were first alone.

  “I’m your girl,” Theo told her, meaning it in every imaginable way. Yours and yours alone.

  “I was hoping you’d say yes,” Hannah said, pulling Theo to her. “It’ll be perfect. You’ll see. Maybe we can save our money and then, when we’re sick of it all, we could go away together.”

  “Go where?” Theo asked, heart pounding.

  “I don’t know. Wherever. Just you and me.”

  And so it began. At first, Theo just sold a little weed—some nickel bags to the stoner kids at school. Then word got around. People started asking for other stuff—uppers, downers, acid, ’shrooms, painkillers, heroin. And the more orders she got, the more chances she had to meet up with Hannah, who took the money (always giving her a cut) and gave her more drugs. Theo never met the guy who gave Hannah the drugs, and when she asked about him, Hannah was vague and changed the subject.

  “The less you know, the better off you are, right?” Hannah said. “It’s really to protect you.”

  Each time she brought Hannah money, Theo imagined they were a little closer to going away together. She let herself imagine it: getting in Hannah’s little Volkswagen and just going, leaving everything else behind.

  The longer the dealing went on, the more ballsy she got. Shit, she’d even sold speed to the overweight cafeteria lady, Mrs. Small. Theo had caught her crying in the bathroom once, and asked if there was anything she could do.

  “No, thank you, Theodora. I’m just tired. Bone tired.”

  “I have something that will make you feel better, give you more energy. Heck, you might even lose weight.” She’d given the woman two pills on the house, a little worried about the risk, but somehow knowing sweet Mrs. Small would never turn her in. And she was right—the next day, while Theo was in line for the world’s crappiest lasagna, Mrs. Small had leaned in, whispered, “Can you get me more?” Theo had smiled. Oh, yes, she could. For a price, she could get anyone anything they needed.

  Anything, that was, except for the coveted Devil’s Snuff, which was like the Holy Grail of drugs, talked about only in reverent whispers. Theo wasn’t even sure it existed. Kids asked her about it though. Could she get it? Had she ever tried it? Did she know anyone who had?

  “I’d pay just about anything for one hit of the stuff,” Luke had told her back when they were negotiating the coke deal and discussing what else she might be able to bring him in the future. “You ever get your hands on some, call me first and name your price.”

  At 3:45, she’s outside Hannah’s brick apartment building, her thumb on the buzzer, and over the intercom comes Hannah’s voice, “Is that you, Theo?”

  Yes, yes, yes.

  She loves the way Hannah says her name, making it sound like music.

  Another buzz and the door clicks open and Theo races up the steps. Hannah’s waiting in the open doorway, pulls Theo in, and they kiss. Theo takes off the scarf, wraps it around Hannah’s neck. “I made this for you,” she says, the words fast and breathy as Hannah pulls Theo’s school blazer off and starts working at the buttons of her crisp white shirt.

  “It’s beautiful,” Hannah says, guiding Theo to the bedroom. “Did it go okay today? Did the kid give you the money?”

  Theo nods. “It went perfectly.”

  Later, when they’re together in bed, Hannah coos, “I can’t believe you made this for me!” as she drapes the scarf around her neck. “It’s so soft!” It’s the only thing Hannah has on, and it looks so perfect that Theo’s throat feels tight. Hannah’s skin is ivory white with a smattering of freckles. Theo likes to run her fingers from one freckle to another, inventing shapes, constellations, a whole universe of stories over Hannah’s skin. The story of who she is, the little girl she used to be, the old woman she’ll one day become—Theo wants to know all of it, every facet of Hannah.

  “It’s merino and alpaca,” Theo tells her, remembering how long she’d spent in the knitting store downtown trying to pick out the perfect yarn.

  “No one’s ever knitted anything for me,” Hannah says, running her fingers over the nubbly purple scarf.

  Theo smiles and bites her lip shyly. “Not even a grandma or a dowdy old aunt?” she asks.

  Hannah shakes her head, pulls the scarf around her tighter, covering her mouth and nose so that only her eyes are showing.

  There’s so much more Theo wants to say: Stay with me and I’ll knit you anything you’d like—sweaters, hats, mittens in thick yarn. You will never be cold. But Theo’s not an idiot—she knows how corny and ridiculous that would sound, and she’s always afraid of appearing like a little kid to Hannah, who is three years older and in college.

  “So it really went okay today? With the drop-off and pickup?”

  “No problem at all. The guy’s family is loaded. He’s kind of an asshole, but he’s really popular—gets good grades, the teachers all love him. No one would ever suspect that I just sold him two ounces of coke.”

  “So where is it? The money? Can I see?”

  “Sure.” Theo slides out of bed, goes to get her satchel. Her little purse is there on the floor, beside the pile of her clothes, the school uniform lying in a strange puddle, as if the person inside had suddenly vanished.

  No satchel.

  Theo’s skin prickles. She’d had it when she came in, right? She closes her eyes, goes back in her mind.

  “Oh God,” she says, heart falling heavily into her stomach with a hard thud.

  “What is it?” Hannah asks.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The last time she’d seen her satchel was when she’d set it down on the Fire Girl’s car. Then, she’d seen the girl pop the little ball of flames into her mouth, and that guy had come swinging his backpack at all of them, yelling, chasing them off.

  She’d left it on the hood of the car. The bag with her books (including Hannah’s copy of The Princess and the Elephant, which Theo carried with her everywhere), baggie of assorted pills, and two thousand bucks in an envelope.

  How could she be so fucking stupid?

  “I umm…” she stammers, not wanting Hannah to know what a complete fuckup she is. “I left my bag at school.”

  “What? With all the money in it?”

  “I know, I know. Du
mb. Don’t worry, though, it’s in my locker. It’s just that I was in such a hurry to get out of there, to come see you, that I forgot all about it.” She gives Hannah a weak, see-how-smitten-I-am smile.

  Hannah looks ghostly pale. Even her freckles have faded. “But the money…”

  “It’s safe. It’s in my locker.”

  “Can you go get it now?”

  Theo thinks for a second, remembers the tall kid swinging his backpack, the Fire Girl with her knife, then shakes her head. “School’s all locked up. I’ll go get it and bring it back here first thing tomorrow.”

  “But my friend, he’s coming tonight. I told him I’d have it.”

  Theo bites her lip. “Tell him the guy didn’t have the money yet. But he’s gonna have it tomorrow.”

  There’s the sound of a key in a lock and the front door opening. “Babe?” a man calls.

  Theo is still naked, standing over her clothes. She looks at Hannah, whose eyes are frantic as she shakes her head and puts a finger over her lips.

  “You’re early,” Hannah calls out, then gestures at the closet. “Hide,” she whisper-shouts. “Hurry!”

  Theo scoops up her clothes, heart hammering. Hannah throws the scarf, and Theo takes that, too. She gets into the closet, shutting the door behind her just as the one to the bedroom swings open. The closet is dark and smells like Hannah. Theo crouches on a pile of shoes while blouses on hangers brush against her face. She tries to slow her breathing as she hears the man enter the room.

  “What are you doing?” the man asks.

  “Taking a nap,” Hannah says.

  “Without clothes?”

  “I was hot.”

  “I’ll say you’re hot. Smoking hot. Come here,” the man says, his voice low. There’s the sound of kissing. Theo swallows hard, her eyes stinging, her nails digging into her palms.

  Who the fuck is this guy?

  Theo listens, wishing she couldn’t hear. Wishing there was a back door to the closet, a window, anything.

  The man whispers something Theo can’t hear. She has never wanted to kill anyone so bad in her whole life.

  If she had a knife like the Fire Girl, she just might.

  “Jeremy, stop,” Hannah says. “I’m not really in the mood.”

  “You sure look like you’re in the mood.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  There is the rustle of covers. “You feel like you’re in the mood,” the man named Jeremy says, voice low.

  “Quit it,” Hannah says. “Seriously.”

  More rearranging of bodies. The squeaking of bedsprings. Then a lighter being flicked. Theo smells the sharp tang of cigarette smoke.

  “So did the little altar girl bring the cash?”

  “Not yet. She called to say the guy couldn’t come up with all the money today. But he promised he’d have it tomorrow. First thing.”

  “I don’t like it. I don’t like her walking around with all that coke.”

  “It’s fine, Jeremy.”

  “How do you know she’s not gonna bolt on us? Sell it and run?”

  “She won’t.”

  “Ahh, that’s right. Because the poor little girl is in love with you, right? She’s got it so bad it hurts. How could I forget?”

  “Jeremy, don’t.”

  “You’re a heartbreaker, Hannah, you know that? Shame on you, really. Stringing the poor girl along just to make a few extra bucks.”

  Theo digs her nails more deeply into her palms.

  “That’s not how it is,” Hannah says.

  “You know, I get a hard-on just thinking about how bad that girl must want you.”

  There’s another squeal of creaking bedsprings, more kissing, then the unmistakable sound of a zipper being unzipped.

  Theo covers her ears. Clamps her eyes shut. Please, God, no. Don’t let them start fucking. She can’t bear it. She’ll definitely have to kill him then. Maybe she’ll kill both of them. Bash their stupid heads together again and again until they’re bloody mush.

  “Wait, Jeremy,” Hannah coos. “Let’s do this right. How about you go out and pick us up a nice bottle of Chablis? You know how a little wine relaxes me, right?”

  “Only if you promise to stay just like that, waiting there in bed for me.”

  “Promise,” she says.

  “I’ll be back in a flash,” he says, footsteps hurrying out of the room. Theo waits for the sound of the front door being opened, then closed. The closet door swings open.

  “You have to go,” Hannah insists. “Before he comes back.”

  Theo says nothing and keeps her head down, not wanting to even look at Hannah. She pulls on her tights and skirt, her bra, white shirt, and blazer. Pulls on her boots but doesn’t bother to lace them. She wraps the scarf around her neck tightly, almost choking herself, then hurries out of the room.

  “Theo?” Hannah calls.

  Theo stops, turns, and looks at Hannah. Hannah looks all wrong, older, her eyes not as blue; she looks like someone Theo hardly knows.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah says.

  Theo turns and makes her way to the door, legs feeling like rubber, an acid taste in her mouth.

  “Theo?” Hannah calls once more.

  Theo stops, waiting. Hoping. Hoping that Hannah will tell her it’s all a mistake, will say, Fuck Jeremy, he doesn’t mean shit, let’s you and I run away, let’s go, right now.

  But that’s not what Hannah says.

  “You’ll bring the money tomorrow? First thing?”

  “Of course,” Theo says, letting herself out.

  Theo walks the streets for nearly two hours, then goes back to the diner where she and Hannah had sat together that first day, telling each other their bad habits (Theo confessed that she regularly cheated on tests but that her worst bad habit was getting crushes on the wrong people. She’d chosen the word people carefully, to make Hannah wonder).

  Theo sits down in one of the green booths, orders a coffee. She flips through the songs on the jukebox, thinking about the songs Hannah might like: jazzy ballads, old blues, and country. She stops herself. Doesn’t matter what Hannah would want to hear because Hannah’s not here. Hannah’s back at home fucking Jeremy.

  Theo takes out her cell, checks for messages and texts, but there’s only one, from her mom saying she’s working late and can’t pick up anything for supper. Theo texts her mom back: No worries. I’m at the library studying for a test. I’ll grab a sandwich on my way home.

  She knows what she has to do. She’ll go back to the Fire Girl’s car, find a way to get her bag back. She just prays that the girl and guy haven’t hit the road with their new windfall.

  She gulps down the rest of her sour coffee and walks toward the school. It’s dark now and she keeps to the shadows. She’ll get the bag and bring the money right to Hannah, dump it outside her door. No note. No sweet good-byes. Just one last fuck off and farewell. That will be that. She’ll never talk to her again.

  Theo sees it so clearly now, what an idiot she’s been. She’d always half-suspected, of course, but it’s so much worse knowing this dickhead Jeremy had been in on it. She imagines Hannah and Jeremy in bed together now, mocking her, laughing at her, calling her the little altar girl—so fucking clueless. So fucking pitiful. Their own cash cow. Ka-ching.

  She’s swallowing hard, trying not to cry, focusing her mind on what needs to be done. She puts one foot in front of the other, moving down the sidewalk, a girl on a mission.

  Soon, she sees the big stone church, the school, and the vacant lot surrounded by crumbling brick walls across the street. The church and school are all lit up like something out of a movie set, while the lot is all darkness and shadows. She can just make out the outline of the walls, a pile of tires visible through an opening.

  She creeps up slowly, finds a passage through the wall, stepping around piles of rubble, eyes on the car, looking for movement, listening for voices, but there’s nothing. Her feet crunch on pebbles, broken brick, bits of glass be
fore she reaches the clumps of weeds. Nature is trying to reclaim the space but not succeeding because the ground’s no good; even the weeds are stunted.

  Once she’s right up against the car, she crouches down. Maybe they did look inside the bag; maybe they found the money and took off on the mother of all benders, unable to imagine their luck.

  But no. Peering through the rear window, she sees that the Fire Girl and the boy are sleeping on the backseat, arms wrapped around each other, bodies under a thick pile of covers. Theo searches for her satchel but doesn’t see it. She thinks of the Fire Girl’s knife, imagines that’ll be the first thing she goes for if she wakes up and catches Theo spying. And then there’s the boy and his backpack. Who knows what weapons he has stashed in there.

  She moves around to the front of the car, looking through the cracked windshield. There’s nothing on the two front seats. She spots a random assortment of stuff on the dashboard—rusted metal gears, a broken glass bottle, dried flowers, a pair of goggles. But no satchel. The Fire Girl shifts, moans. Theo drops to the ground and holds her breath.

  Shit.

  After a minute, she dares to peek back in and sees that the Fire Girl is motionless again. Best not to push her luck.

  Tomorrow. She’ll come back first thing tomorrow, before the first bell even rings. Maybe the boy will be gone then. She’ll have a better chance with the Fire Girl without him. She can offer the girl a reward of some sort if she has to. Give her some pills or whatever she wants on the house. Or maybe she’ll just tell the Fire Girl the truth: Without that bag, I’m royally fucked. She imagines telling her the whole story, of how she met Hannah, was lied to and led on. She’ll tell her that all she wants is to hand over the cash and cut all ties. She thinks that the Fire Girl just might understand. Sometimes life is about bad choices, downright shitty choices.

  Theo pushes off, scampers away from the car toward an opening in the wall that leads to the alley between the auto parts store and an abandoned bakery. She sees a hint of movement. An animal?

  No, too big for an animal.

  There’s a figure in the alley: a person standing in the shadows, back to the wall, watching. Staring right at her. She can’t make out any details—just the palest flash of a face as it ducks back into the shadows and the outline of a long coat.