The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  The crown they give her is much bigger than mine. Hunter’s crown is similar to Anderson’s, but fancier. A red crown with faux-fur lining fit for the king of the school.

  Even though I’m not into all of this, a faint smile tugs at my lips. I’m glad he won. I know he’s into this kind of stuff.

  I am not glad Valerie’s his queen. I’m even less glad about it as she reaches over to take his hand again, but this time he shakes her off, playing it off by reaching for the scepter Lyndsay is holding for him.

  Oh my God, they gave him a scepter.

  I can’t help grinning and shaking my head.

  Hunter’s head is big enough; he does not need a scepter.

  “All right, everybody, let’s hear it for our court one more time.” Everyone claps and cheers. “And now, for our homecoming royalty’s first dance.”

  The student body gathers around as we head to the center of the dance floor with our respective partners.

  The principal announces that this next song is a throwback the chaperones will appreciate, then the opening chords of Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time begin to play.

  I really don’t want to dance with Anderson, but he’s my prince, so I have to. As I settle my hands on his shoulders, it’s Hunter I’m thinking about, so my gaze drifts in his direction.

  He’s looking at me, too. More specifically, he’s looking at Anderson’s hands on me, his eyes narrowed with dislike.

  I feel the same way seeing Valerie’s arms draped around his neck.

  Anderson and I are dancing like two people reluctant to touch, but of course Valerie is pressed as close to Hunter as she can be, gazing up at him affectionately even as he looks at another girl. I almost admire her ability to be so deliberately obtuse.

  I do not possess the same ability, so I look away from them.

  I’m too jealous to watch. It makes my skin crawl.

  This sucks. Everything about this sucks.

  It only sucks for a few more seconds, though.

  The homecoming king and queen dance closer to us. I frown when I realize it. During this dance, we are the only three couples on the dance floor, so there’s plenty of room to spread out.

  I barely have time to register Hunter and Valerie right next to us, then, in an unprecedented move, Hunter asks Anderson, “Wanna trade?”

  “What?” Anderson asks, as if confused.

  “What!” Valerie hisses, horrified.

  Hunter nods from Valerie to me. “Let’s switch.”

  “Hunter,” Valerie complains, shooting him a look. “No! This is our dance. You can dance with her after.”

  Hunter locks eyes with me. “Nah. I wanna dance with her now.”

  “You cannot be serious,” Valerie says, her voice low and angry. “You are not really going to humiliate me like this.”

  “Don’t make a scene and you won’t be humiliated,” he says, glancing at her. “Either way, I’m dancing with Riley.” He looks at Anderson, his gaze cool. “You got a problem with that?”

  Anderson scoffs, shaking his head and backing away from me. “You know what, go right ahead.”

  “Anderson!” Valerie cries, looking at him like even he has let her down.

  Like Anderson can stop Hunter from doing exactly what he wants to do.

  No one asks me what I want, but I certainly don’t argue as Anderson grabs Valerie and drags her away, practically kicking and screaming.

  Hunter smiles, grabbing my waist and tugging me close to him.

  I cock my head, a reluctant smile on my lips as I wind my arms around his neck. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  I feel the movement of his muscles as he shrugs. “I’m not very nice.”

  “That’s not true,” I argue, gazing up at him. “You’re nice sometimes.”

  “You’re the only person I care about being nice to.”

  My heart flutters.

  When I was dancing with Anderson I was so aware of all the people watching us, but in Hunter’s arms, the rest of the world falls away.

  “Well, I’m glad you cut in,” I admit.

  “Yeah?”

  I nod.

  “How come?”

  My gaze lingers on those perfect lips of his, but I go for a lighthearted response so he doesn’t think I’m thinking about kissing him. “I’ve always wanted to dance with a king,” I tease.

  Hunter grins. “Oh yeah?”

  I nod again. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “It can be our little secret,” he assures me.

  It’s so easy to get pulled back into him. I sigh, enjoying the feeling of being held by him so much more than I should.

  It’s getting harder and harder to pretend I don’t want him. All I really want is to rewind these last few weeks. To stop him from doing stupid things to ruin our chances.

  I suppose there’s another option. I could just give in.

  But I won’t.

  He doesn’t get to hurt me with her and then have me, anyway.

  If Hunter wants me, he needs to fix the unfixable. An impossible feat.

  “What are you thinking?”

  I look up at him. I’m tempted to tell the truth, but before I can answer, I’m distracted by the sight of Valerie running across the dance floor in a red blur behind him.

  I frown, watching her rush into the crowd to our right. I can’t tell what she’s saying as she shakes her head, but she shoves urgently at someone in the crowd and glances behind her.

  Glancing at Hunter, to make sure he didn’t see.

  I look past her at the people she’s pushing through the crowd. They’re turned around so I can’t tell who they are, but they’re dressed in black—not formalwear—and carrying something. It almost looks like a big white paint bucket, the five gallon kind.

  I watch, my frown deepening, as she pushes them through the crowd, trying to rush them off the floor. By the looks of it, before Hunter notices.

  “Hey.”

  I glance back at Hunter. Now he’s frowning, too.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Did you see that?” I ask, even though I know he didn’t. Valerie ran behind him, and his back was to the crowd. “She just…”

  Hunter turns to look now, but Valerie is already lost in the throng of people.

  “Buckets. They had buckets. Oh, my God, she really was going to Carrie me,” I say, horrified, but also somehow amused. “She’s not even creative enough to come up with her own awful pranks. Why am I surprised?”

  Hunter scowls. “What are you talking about?”

  “Valerie. She just ran across the dance floor and chased someone through the crowd. She was going to Carrie me during the royalty dance, but then you cut in. She didn’t want to do it to you, so she called it off. I knew I wasn’t crazy. I knew she was planning something.”

  “She was going to Carrie you?”

  “Bathe me in pig’s blood. I mean, I don’t know if she was really going to use pig’s blood, but there must have been something to throw on me in those big white buckets.”

  He drops his hands and looks toward the crowd. “Where’d she go?”

  I point.

  Hunter shakes his head. “All right, I’ve gotta go handle something.” He points at me. “You dump the goddamn purse-holder—for real this time.”

  “Hunter,” I call after him as he storms off the dance floor and heads after Valerie.

  He doesn’t turn back around, he leaves me there with the song still playing. I look over at Anderson, similarly abandoned by Valerie.

  Anderson looks at me, but doesn’t move toward me like he wants to resume our dance.

  I stand there and look back at him, not knowing what to say.

  Realizing everyone is watching and finishing the dance with him would be too awkward, I turn around and flee the dance floor.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Riley

  After Hunter has been gone for a few minutes, Valerie reappears in the gymnasium.

  She looks a
little flushed, maybe even embarrassed, but I don’t know if she’s flustered because her prank went off course or because of whatever transpired between her and Hunter when he caught up to her.

  Assuming he did catch up to her.

  I’m pretty much done with the dance, but I can’t leave until Hunter comes back. I know I could text my mom and ask her to come get me, or hell, I could even walk home (though that wouldn’t be very fun in these heeled sandals) but I’m starting to get a little worried that Hunter’s not back.

  He’s been gone for a long time. Why isn’t he back?

  Anderson wanders over to the table I’ve camped out at. His hands are in his pockets, his head bowed. Looking up at him, I feel a tad guilty for ruining his night, even if I didn’t initiate any of the bullshit myself.

  “Hey,” he says, voice low.

  I absently trace the outline of the tiara I took off and put on the table. “Hey.”

  “So… are we staying? Am I still taking you home?”

  “I don’t know, Anderson,” I say tiredly.

  “Do you have to check with your boss?” he asks, his tone faintly sharp.

  I look up at him, dead-eyed. I’m just about to respond when Sherlock bumps into him.

  “Oh, shit, sorry, Milner.” He smirks, shaking his flask and offering it to Anderson. “I think I’m pre-gaming a little too hard. Want some?”

  Anderson shakes his head. “I’m all right.”

  Sherlock points at me. “Congrats on your crown, Bishop.”

  “Thanks,” I say, frowning. Ryden Sherlock has never spoken to me.

  “You kids have fun,” he says before wandering away.

  “Fun,” Anderson remarks. “Is that what we’re having?”

  I shake my head, looking at the crown again as I play with it. “I think we should break up.”

  “Yeah.” He looks down at the gymnasium floor. “I kinda figured.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, looking up at him. My hand stills on the crown and flattens against the table. “It wasn’t my intention to jerk you around. I really did think getting back together that day was the right choice. I had all these stupid thoughts you probably don’t want to hear about at this point.”

  Anderson pulls out the chair across from me and sits down. “Nah, might as well.”

  I smile faintly, looking at the table. “Hunter and I have this thing, I guess you could call it an inside joke, but… have you ever read The Hunger Games?”

  Anderson shakes his head. “I saw the movies.”

  I nod. “Well, in middle school I made him read the books. And I had these very enthusiastic opinions about the love triangle that runs throughout the series. See, in the beginning it’s just Gale and Katniss, and they share this bond, they understand each other, they’re completely attuned to one another, they work together to survive and look out for one another. They were a team, and I just loved them. But then Peeta comes into the picture, and he’s not like Gale at all. Gale is… more…” I stop, trying to think how to word it. “Maybe dominant is the word I’m looking for? More brutal? More aggressive and take-charge? He challenges Katniss more. They’re comfortable and familiar with each other, but in a sense, Gale’s the less comfortable choice.”

  “All right,” he says, watching me.

  “But Peeta, he’s softer and kinder. I wouldn’t say he understands Katniss the way Gale does, but he’s always there for her. He’s a really good guy, and he really… he’s good to her.” I look down, too self-conscious to meet Anderson’s gaze when I say this next part. “In middle school, I developed this massive crush on Hunter Maxwell. It wasn’t for any of the reasons the other girls in our class did, though. I stumbled across him in the woods behind his house one day and we ended up developing our own secret connection. In my mind, he became my Gale.”

  Anderson nods, starting to catch on. “Am I the Peeta in this comparison?”

  I look up. “Yes, but not in a bad way. After that night at Valerie’s party, I started thinking maybe I was too hard on Peeta. He was a nice guy. I think I was only mad at him for being in the way. I probably wasn’t entirely fair to him. If I reread the trilogy now, I don’t think I’d have as many problems with him. I’d probably still want Katniss and Gale together, but that day when we had the picnic in the park… I understood how she came to have feelings for the guy who was there for her when she really needed him to be. When she’d given him every reason in the world not to be, and he was still there anyway. And I really did think maybe I had it all wrong, and maybe… maybe we were the right answer.”

  Anderson doesn’t say anything right away. He looks at the red linen draped across the table, lost in thought. Finally, his lips curve up and he says, “I was your safe choice.”

  I can’t deny it. That would be a lie. “There’s nothing inherently bad about the safe choice,” I say instead.

  His lips curve up even more with a cynical hint of humor. “You don’t believe that. Maybe you wish you did, but… you don’t want the safe choice. You want the brutal asshole who ‘gets you,’” he says, rolling his eyes.

  I want to deny it, but I can’t. “I think it’s the friendship that appeals to me. I’m really not into assholes, I just… I’ve never connected with someone the way I connect with him. It’s effortless. Even when I want to resist it, even when we both do things to try to break it… it’s like we can’t. It’s unbreakable.”

  Anderson leans back in the chair and sighs. “Well, I think you’re making a mistake, but I guess I’m supposed to think that.”

  I look at my crown on the table. “We’re not together. I just… It doesn’t matter. I can’t give this a shot when I’m still so wrapped up in him. I’m not really available, so there’s no sense in stringing you along.”

  “Well,” he says, playfully indicating the crown on his head. “Before our reign officially comes to an end, should we share one last dance?”

  I smile up at him. “I’d like that.”

  ___

  The night wears on and still there’s no sign of Hunter.

  That is, until I start to notice the crowd thinning out. There are fewer people packed in the gymnasium, and when I look toward the door, I realize it’s because people keep leaving.

  At first, I think maybe they’re leaving early because they’re eager to get to Hunter’s after party, but it doesn’t entirely make sense. There’s still about a half hour left of the dance, so Hunter’s after party shouldn’t begin until after that.

  But as I slip out the doors myself and go to investigate the case of the disappearing homecoming attendees, I realize they’re not missing at all. They are all outside, gathered in front of the school.

  I frown, pushing the heavy exit doors and walking outside to see what’s going on.

  I make my way to the front of the crowd, then stop, my eyes widening as I take in the sight of Valerie’s car, coated in a gooey orange-ish substance and covered with white feathers.

  I might actually be amused, but there is a second car pulled up behind hers, also tarred and feathered: Anderson’s.

  I’m too stunned to pay much attention to the movement of the people behind me, but when someone steps up beside me, I don’t have to look to know it’s Hunter.

  “It wasn’t pig’s blood,” he says. “It was thicker, stickier. Maybe some kind of honey mixture. Seems like she tried to dye it red, but it didn’t really work out.”

  “What did you do?” I shake my head, looking at the cars. “How is Valerie’s car even here? She rode here in a limo with you.”

  Before he can answer me, I’m shoved aside as Valerie explodes through the crowd and stops to stare and horror at her car.

  She huffs in clear outrage, then turns to look at us, her blue eyes as wide as can be. “Seriously?”

  Hunter smiles and drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Your war with Riley ends tonight. Unless you want to go to war with me, too.”

  Valerie glares at him, her eyes burning with resen
tment, but she doesn’t say a word.

  Raising his voice, Hunter turns toward his audience. “That goes for all of you. The shunning is over, we’re moving on. This was never your fight, but if you want to go to the mat for her,” he says, with a sweeping gesture in Valerie’s direction, “feel free. Just know she wouldn’t do the same for any of you.”

  There’s a low murmur in the crowd. Valerie’s gaze darts to them, a flash of fear in her eyes before she looks back at Hunter. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asks lowly.

  “I haven’t done anything to you. Not yet,” he says deliberately. “If you quit your bullshit and let this blow over, we can keep things friendly. Defy me, and see what happens.”

  She swallows, her shaky gaze shifting to me. “I really hate you, you know that?”

  “Same,” I tell her, not flinching.

  I am tempted to feel bad for her in the moment, but I remind myself of her baseless malice over the years and manage to overcome it.

  Valerie didn’t feel bad for turning Sara into a social outcast for absolutely no reason. She didn’t feel bad for spreading malicious—and completely baseless—gossip last year about me and a teacher. He could have been fired over those rumors. Sara could have felt so alone, maybe she wouldn’t have been able to handle it without me.

  Valerie’s a mean girl. She picked a fight, and she didn’t win.

  That’s no one’s fault but hers.

  I refuse to feel bad for her because for once in her life, there were consequences to her bad behavior.

  Valerie turns around and looks back at the mess smothering her car. Right when she does, the crowd moves again. This time Anderson bursts through and stops on the sidewalk, his jaw falling open.

  “What the fuck,” he says dimly, staring at his tarred and feathered car.

  Honeyed and feathered?

  I cringe, because while I can’t muster much sympathy for Valerie, Anderson didn’t deserve this. It was just mean of Hunter to do it to him, too.

  Anderson looks over at us, mouth agape. “What the fuck?” he says again, his gaze locked on Hunter.

  “You called Riley a whore,” Hunter states, unapologetic, as he reaches into his suit pocket and draws out Anderson’s keys. “And, honestly, you just piss me off.”