I was lying in my bed that night hearing howls and thumps of idiot boys, unable to sleep. The thing was, it wasn’t just sleep I wanted. I wanted to use my zebra powder from Landry. I wanted to make muffins and Jello. I wanted to cook for Orion, watch him eat while he held my hand. As far as fantasies went, not terribly racy, but the desire I felt consumed me until I could barely think.
I rolled over and put my pillow over my head. People were running around tonight in the halls. Someone would notice me and then the rumors would start and things would get really weird. I tried to focus on sheep or something, but the image of steaming biscuits wouldn’t leave my mind.
I was almost relieved when a knock sounded on my door. Then the panic came on.
“Who is it?”
His voice. I could practically taste chocolate when he said, “Orion.”
I rolled out of bed, thumping on the floor as I scrambled around, searching for shirts to pull over my tank top. I barely remembered the wig, and tried to fix it with one hand while I straightened the two shirts with the other. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
He smiled at me. He looked dark and mysterious, his long black coat swirling around his boots, while his face, pale and dark hid beneath strands of dark chocolate hair. His delicious eyes gleamed at me above his soft mouth. I should have kissed him in the cemetery instead of crying. Except that he loved someone else.
“What’s up?”
He fell against the door frame and I noticed the sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes looked blurred and unfocused.
I hesitated for a moment before I leaned forward, touching his face, his forehead. I couldn’t tell if he had a fever, all he felt was good. “Are you sick?”
“I had a misstep.”
I caught him as he slid down, his weight more than I expected in spite of his height. Holding him like that, I tried to ignore the way it felt, finally wrapping my arms around him and finally having a reason to touch him without restraint.
“Are you drunk, then? I’ll help you to your room.”
He didn’t seem like the type to get drunk, too responsible and in control. Why had he come to my room? Was it a mistake? Maybe he wanted me to cook something for him to help him feel better. I grabbed the tins off the shelf beside the door and tucked it inside his pocket. He didn’t seem to notice.
He swayed. “Beautiful.”
When I looked at him, his eyes were closed, his breathing raspy. I had to get him to his room, and then I’d make him something so that he’d feel better. We walked down the hall, connected at the hip, his weight feeling right in my arms. How could I want something so much that I couldn’t have?
“You’re all right.” His voice was so low, I barely heard him.
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and tried to sound cheerful. “Sure. School is fine.” I sounded too cheerful, too much like Violetta, gymnast, not enough like Sebastian, angsty boy.
“Your sister never comes out to play, Violetta. Beautiful flower, Vanilla and Jasmine.”
Had he really said that? Did he want to see me again? He really had held me in the cemetery and kissed me so much, taken me to his house, why else would he do that if he didn’t like me at least a little bit? That was the question: why?
“Hang on, we’re almost there.”
“Who wants to be there when they can be here?”
I agreed with him completely. Maybe walking through dark hallways with dead weight wouldn’t be most people’s idea of a great night, but it beat not sleeping and obsessing about biscuits. He stumbled and would have fallen if I hadn’t leaned him against the wall, bracing him there. We were almost to his room. Could I possibly lift him up and carry him fifteen feet?
I took a deep, steadying breath, as if I were about to launch into a routine, and ducked down, putting his weight on my shoulders.
Step by slow step, I walked until I made it to his locked door. I lowered him, panting when he was leaning against the wall between me and the door. He felt so good. I rested there, against him, his hair tickling my cheek. He felt so good, so right. I searched his pants pockets first and found his keys, his car, and after a few tries, his room. Lots of his keys were old fashioned, skeleton type keys like they went to trunks and treasure chests.
His head lolled on my shoulder as I dragged him into his room and onto his bed. He flopped there, groaning, his face pasty and sickly.
I should call for help. Landry? I’d left my cell phone in my room. I patted his coat and found his cell phone in his inside chest pocket. It had a password that I couldn’t possibly guess. I would make him something, Jello. That’s what I would do, Jello and biscuits, and then he’d be fine.
I brushed his hair out of his eyes, hesitating for a moment as I leaned over him, fixated on his mouth. Would he mind if I kissed him? I shook my head and backed away. That would be wrong to kiss an unconscious person, like statutory rape.
“I’ll be right back, Oreo. Okay?” Had I called him oreo, like the cookie? He was a bit like that, chocolate cookie and cream, delicious in absolutely every way, but oreos were too sweet for me. I had to leave and make biscuits. I had to go. I’d never felt the compulsion so strong.
“I’ll get help.”
I left his room, leaving the door open as I went to the room beside his and knocked on the door. I kept pounding until it opened and a skinny guy in boxers opened it, blinking at me blearily.
I grabbed his arm and hauled him into the hall.
“Orion’s not feeling well. I can’t get his cell to work. Do you know Landry?”
He nodded, not resisting me, but looking confused.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to make him some Jello, but I don’t want to leave him alone. If you can get a hold of Landry, he can tell you what to do while I’m in the kitchen.”
He looked at me, his eyes widening as he studied me carefully, glancing down at my hand on his arm like it meant something. “You’re a Baker?”
I didn’t have time for this conversation. I dropped his arm and backed away. “I’m not like Landry, but right now, I really need to make Jello and biscuits.” I searched his eyes, looking for the promise, that he would take care of Orion while I went and did some compulsive cooking. What was wrong with me? What if Orion needed to go to a hospital? I had his keys. I should take him. But…
I turned and ran barefoot down the dark hall towards the kitchen. After the first turn, the halls seemed darker, more ominous. My heart pounded as I thought of his too pale face, the fact that he’d fallen over. Was he on drugs? Overdosed? I had no idea what he did with his free time other than attend museums and meetings.
I jogged down the hall , my bare legs cold as I ran. A howl to my right sent goosebumps down my spine. I gritted my teeth as I ran faster. Whatever stupid prank the boys were doing, I didn’t have time for it. I felt like one of them was going to jump out at me in a hideous mask at any second, a tiger mask.
I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, pounding over the stone floor in a steady rhythm that would take me to the kitchen in no time even while my heart pounded faster and faster.
Something thumped behind me with a sharp scraping sound, like claws against stone. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but instead I made myself move, steady, steady, the perfect pace until I neared the kitchen. One last stretch of hall and I’d be safe. A snarl and a growl seemed right behind me when I made it into the dark room. I slammed the door behind me and bolted it closed, top and bottom. I flipped on the lights and went around the room, barring all possible entrances.
A thud against the hall door made me pause for a moment, gripping the edge of the counter until I could move. I focused on putting on hot water and getting out the flour, butter, baking powder for the biscuits. So much fear crowded my mind, my body, that it didn’t seem like I could breathe much less cook, but I thought of Orion, his pale face, and somehow I was able to push through the fear and focus on flour. So
mewhere distantly in my mind, I realized that it was crazy to cook when maybe I should take Orion to the hospital, but I’d left him with the guy, and he would be better at lugging Orion around than I would.
Another thud on the door made me freeze and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment, picturing Orion’s face, his smile before I opened them and moved quickly, efficiently, mixing the biscuits together then turning to combine ingredients for the Jello.
I stopped, putting my palms flat on the counter. I needed another ingredient, Everlast. The kitchen had an outside exit, and the herb garden was only twenty feet away from that door, but I was already seriously freaked out, and I didn’t have night sounds to deal with.
It took me a few minutes of trembling before I shook my head and went to the door. Orion deserved someone who wasn’t afraid of the dark, someone like Olivia who could brain them with her lacrosse stick. I picked up the heavy metal rolling pin before I undid the bolts on the thick, steel door. I took a moment, a breath, then two before I jerked it open fast, staring out into the dark with my heart beating in my throat. I propped the door open with a garbage can before I ran, ran as fast as I could.
The bright moon showed the way as I vaulted over a low stone wall, down a path between trees that rustled ominously above me, and then through the little gate to the herb garden where my mother’s Everlast sat, a little shadow in a garden of shadows.
I’d never used Everlast before. My mother had warned us many times that it could have toxic effects if used improperly. Did I know how to use it properly? No, but my compulsion was so out of control, I couldn’t stop now. I knelt before the plant, breathing heavy as I took a leaf in my hand and plucked it off.
A shock ran through me that made me gasp and fall back, my hand on my heart, but when I heard howling, I got up and ran. I ran as if all the tigers and bears in the world were at my heels, back up the path beneath the trees, over the low fence and through the door, slamming the garbage can, bruising my knees before I shut the door, triple locking it while my heart pounded so hard I thought I’d have a heart attack.
I leaned against the door for a moment until a heavy thump on the other door got me moving. I grabbed the sharpest knife I could find and diced the leaf into teeny, tiny slivers that I divided evenly between the Jello and the biscuits then I poured the now boiling water over the leaves, taking the powder from Landry and whisking it in with the pomegranate juice. Did I need gelatin? As I whisked, the stuff grew thicker. Maybe the zebra hooves acted as gelatin.
I carried the bowl to the fridge then put the first batch of biscuits in the hot oven. I turned on the other three ovens and got out more baking sheets. I would be making a lot of biscuits.
The powder for the biscuits was drier and more acrid than zebra powder that burned my nose when I sniffed it. I made biscuit after biscuit, ignoring the insane howls and thuds on the kitchen door. The third batch of biscuits came out of the oven, zebra biscuits when I noticed that the bolts of the solid wooden door were shaking with each thud at the door.
Orion, was he drunk or delirious? I couldn’t think of that, not when my hands already shook with the ever present thumping on the door. I somehow managed to move, dumping the cooked biscuits into a large bowl and hefting the rolling pin while I waited for the next batch to be done.
A particularly heavy thump had me scrambling on the long bench with my bowl of biscuits and the rolling pin. One more thump and the door splintered and cracked.
I stopped breathing. A muzzle broke through with a rolling eye and pink tongue lolling above wicked sharp teeth. I sat heavily on the table while the room got fuzzy and I forced myself to breathe. It was only a mask. I was imagining the movement, or it was a human tongue through the slot in the rubber face. Wolves would not be roaming the halls of Calder, even on Halloween.
“You are going to get expelled for messing up the door!” My voice came out cracked and scared. Should I run outside? Orion was through that hall. I held my ground. Maybe they would gobble me up, but first, they would taste my wrath. And my biscuits. They looked so real. Had someone really let wild dogs into the school?
I threw a biscuit at the dog head. It snapped instinctively, catching it in its mouth and crunching as it withdrew its head from the splintered wood, allowing another muzzle to poke through, snarling and snapping. I threw another biscuit, and another. Four dogs I fed my biscuits to, until the heads withdrew and they continued breaking through the door.
I could barely breathe, but I stood up, my legs shaking while my trembling hands tightened on the bowl of biscuits. I threw biscuits at the dogs as the door split and at least a dozen poured through the gap into the kitchen. I threw them until the snapping, snarling dogs were practically on top of me. I dumped the remaining dog biscuits out on the floor while I instinctively swung the rolling pin up at the dog that lunged at me. I scrambled up, onto the table, avoiding snapping jaws while I swung again, feeling the horrifying connection with another creature’s skull. A dog lunged for me, catching the hem of my shirt. I slipped it off of me and jumped, grabbing the only thing hanging off the ground. The heavy duty florescent light fixture creaked when I grabbed the edge, swinging my body up and around, but cutting my cheek on the sharp, metal edge before I slid on it, sandwiched between the light and the ceiling.
The dogs leapt and snarled at me, their golden eyes unnaturally bright and intelligent. They climbed on the table, seeming to search for some way at me, but they couldn’t quite get enough height. Eventually, they turned to the biscuits, chomping on them, only snarling at me now and then before one by one, they collapsed on the floor.
I stayed there for an eternity, pinned between the ceiling and the light fixture until it creaked, the rod in my hand shaking as my weight pulled the light out of the ceiling.
My heart pounded so hard, I thought it was going to break my ribs. I couldn’t stay there, and the dogs seemed to be asleep, all over the floor, tongues lolling, but I couldn’t let go of the light fixture.
It jerked down and I rolled off the light, cartwheeling through the air awkwardly before I landed on the table, arms spin-wheeling while the fluorescent light blinked on and off. I teetered on the edge before I caught my balance, watching the dogs. They held still, still, but then the timer for the biscuits went off. I flinched at the sound before jumped over a tangle of dogs to the oven, fumbling with the timer until it went still.
I stared at the dogs, hyperventilating while I waited for them to wake up, but they stayed there, still as death. After a moment of breathing, two moments, I took out the last batch, turned off all the ovens, and stepped carefully over sleeping dogs, only dogs, not wolves like they looked to me before I made it to the fridge and took out the perfectly formed Jello.
When I closed the fridge and turned, another dog stood in the doorway, bigger, darker, and completely different. I froze, unable to breathe, to move, even my heart stopped for a second.
Instead of snapping and snarling, he sniffed the dogs that weren’t dogs anymore. Naked bodies of boys who had been dogs just a few minutes earlier were scattered around the kitchen. When I looked back at the enormous creature, it stared at me, calmly, somehow completely different in posture and feeling than the other creatures. How could I get past it to Orion with my Jello? It looked at me like it knew me. I knew without the slightest doubt, that it could rip me apart in the time it took me to inhale to scream.
It didn’t move, just stared at me with those horribly aware eyes. Finally, I tucked the bowl of Jello under my arm and slowly, slowly, bent to scooped up a few biscuits from the floor.
“Good dog,” I whispered as I threw one at him.
He stared at me while it hit his muzzle, not blinking or dodging. I trembled as I eyed the rolling pin on the table. I couldn’t put down the Jello or the biscuits, but how could I get past the enormous dog? I’d known from the moment I’d taken out the Jello, dipped my finger into it that I had to take it to Orion, to get him to eat it. It would make him better. I had
to get past the dog, the wolf because Orion needed me.
I lunged to the table and whirled around to the door, but in that moment when I’d taken my eyes off of him, he’d disappeared.
I closed my eyes, opened them, and the boys were still spread all over the kitchen and the enormous creature was still gone. I shoved as many biscuits in my camisole top as it would hold then armed with a rolling pin and Jello, I left the kitchen. I jogged through the darkness, but my knee wasn’t good, and running with Jello might break it up.
The trip back was eerily silent with distant howls and whines that I tried to ignore. I couldn’t do anything about it except go faster. Panting, exhausted and with a face that had stopped being numb and had started to hurt, I reached Orion’s room, the door closed and everything quiet. I knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
I opened my mouth to say Violetta, then remembered at the last moment that I was supposed to be Sebastian. But Sebastian didn’t wear a camisole that showed off my dubious charms. I’d lost the shirts in the kitchen. I dropped the rolling pin and ran a hand through my hair. At some point I’d lost the wig. Apparently, things were about to get weird.
“It’s me.”
After a pause, he opened the door a sliver, looked at me, then down at my biscuit stuffed pink camisole, and back up to my fake smile.
“Hi,” I said, raising the bowl. “I have Jello. Can I come in? I think it will be good for him. Maybe.” I winced. What was I doing? I didn’t want to think about it, about the boys who were dogs and the wolf who looked nothing like a dog, and this boy in front of me staring at me like he’d never seen a girl.
“Sure,” he said, stepping back and letting me pass through then closing and bolting the door.
“Were you able to contact Landry?” I asked as I stared at the Jello, and glanced over at the black bed with Orion still draped over the black blanket.
Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Page 26