by Lena Maye
And his eyes are red.
I suck in a breath. “What happened?” I start to cross the room to him, but he holds up a hand and takes two steps away.
“I thought we were going to talk to her after.” Sloane stands in the doorway.
“I couldn’t wait.” There are so many emotions on Kepler’s face that I can’t sort them out. “We said no lies.”
“What’s going on?” I whip to Sloane. Her face is a reflection of Kepler’s. Mackie and Sebastian stand behind her—probably drawn in by the sound of our voices.
I take another step towards Kepler. I want to rush to him, but he keeps the distance between us.
“Tell me what’s going on, Kepler.”
He pushes play on the remote.
The image is black and grainy, but I make out a girl in a black dress. She holds a bottle of liquor by the neck and stares up at the sky. She turns and extends the bottle behind her. Someone else steps into the frame.
It’s him.
It’s me.
I stand, rooted to my spot, frozen by the fear of what will play out on Sloane’s television. The guy walks over to her—to me—and we stare up at the sky. There’s no sound.
The little me on the video swings her arms. She drinks.
“No.” I can’t watch this. Kepler can’t watch this. “Turn it off.”
He watches me as it plays. Oh God, he’s already seen it. He knows what’s going to happen.
On the video, we’re kissing. The guy unzips his pants.
There’s a breath of a moment.
The little me swings the bottle out. He stumbles when I hit him. His hands are up—he’s backing away. There’s no me defending myself like I let Kepler and Sloane believe. The untruths I never corrected.
I follow the guy. I hit him, and he falls. I kick him. He slumps on the ground, not moving, and I kick him. There’s no pause—no kindness. A bully standing over her victim. The worst break I’ve ever done.
Sloane darts into the screen. She drags me away as the guy rolls on the grass.
I remember him moaning. Blood on my hands.
The video goes black. Kepler sets the remote on top of the television. The room is silent. I fight for what to say. There is nothing.
“You told me he attacked you.” Kepler’s voice is a low rumble of thunder.
I shake my head. “I never said he attacked me. It’s what everyone assumed.”
“You led me to believe it. How is that different from a lie? And here we are, trying to get you to press charges and Sloane’s getting the security tape and going through his records, and all this time—it was you who attacked him.”
“I was so angry, Kepler. I—”
“You should have told me.” His voice is barely controlled, trembling. “But you also knew him. He goes to Rock Falls. You’ve had four classes with him. Why did you lie about that?”
“What? No.” He knows that I don’t notice people—how I’m so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t even notice Kepler at first. “I don’t remember him. Kepler, please—”
He stares at the grainy image. “I left Boston the second I heard you were in trouble. But it wasn’t you in trouble, was it?” His voice takes up so much of the little apartment I don’t have room to breathe.
“Kepler, I’m so sor—” The pain that ratchets across my chest threatens to drop me. I force myself through it and take the slow, deep breaths Claire’s been helping me with. I can’t lose him. “I tried to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”
When I step towards him, he steps back.
“You’ll keep lying. Keep hurting people.” He sways. I think he might topple over. “Like everyone hurt your dad.”
A bolt of cold rushes through me. “My father? You don’t know—”
“You think I don’t know? That I don’t have a fucking brain? That I wasn’t around the whole time your mom ignored your dad? How he feels about—”
“Feels?” My thoughts slip and slide like they’re on a sheet of ice. And I can’t stop myself from tumbling forward. “You know how my father feels?”
Kepler shakes his head and backs towards the door. “I know what he’s told me. A family built of lies and pain.”
My mom grips Sloane’s arm. Her face is the color of snow. Sloane’s eyes are wide—she knew about the tape, but she didn’t know about this.
“You spoke to my father?” I ask.
“I can’t do this. I can’t end up like your dad.” Another step and Kepler is out the door. He stalks down the front walk and snags a joint from his pocket. When he clicks on a lighter, I run after him.
A hand grabs my arm. Mackie.
“Let me talk to him.” Mackie steps in front of me.
“No way. I don’t want you spitting your hatred of me in his ear.” I yank my arm from his hand.
“What are you going to say to him? When do you ever say anything you mean?”
The front walk is empty. Kepler’s car starts.
“I’m going to say I’m sorry.” I choke on words that taste like defeat. I cave on myself and wrap my arms over my chest. Kepler spoke to my father. And my father must have told him to walk away. Just like he did.
Mackie jogs outside. Cassie is next to me, her hand on my shoulder. I turn to find my sister standing in the kitchen door. Our mom still holds on to her arm.
“Sloane.” It’s a plea. She has to say she’ll forgive me.
“You shouldn’t have lied. I was so honest with you about… I’m just confused, Jean. I need some time.” She shrugs off our mom and ducks into the kitchen. Sebastian follows her.
“Sloane—” I start after her too.
“You need to give them time.” Cassie squeezes my hand in hers.
I shake my head.
“Trust me. Time.” Cassie leads me past the grainy image on the television and out into the cold evening. Kepler’s car is gone. The sky is heavy and black. We start the two-mile walk home.
Twenty-Eight
I grip the hand of the guy leading me to the dance floor. I’ve forgotten his name. Or I never knew it. It doesn’t matter. Each guy is more numberless than the last. It's been over a month since I’ve seen Kepler. He’s never at these frat parties anymore.
The guy’s hands balance on my hips. “I’ve seen you around.” He has to pause his awkward hip thrusting to speak the words.
I don’t bother answering.
“Want a drink?” Guy-of-the-minute’s black hair glints under the lights. Two months ago, I would have dated him. But I hardly even think of him now. I don’t need to drag some guy down a hallway when the darkness is all around me. I bring it wherever I go.
He grins.
Like it’s that easy. Like a smile is nothing and should be thrown around carelessly.
“No thanks,” I say. His minute is up. I twist out of his hands and slip through the crowd.
I’m not sure why I’m even here. Because Cassie asked me, I guess.
I stop at the door to the kitchen, feeling lost. Almost detached. A group of guys hangs around the kegs. And some girls, all talking in fast voices.
“Hey, Jean!” One of them—Irene—waves at me, and I can’t help but smile back.
I cross the room and stand at the edge of their little group.
“I heard you set the curve for that stats final,” I say.
Irene grins at me over her Solo cup. “Your notes helped so much. Couldn’t have done it without you.” She holds out a ream of cups. “I got put in charge. Want a beer? I won’t make you pay.”
I stare at the stack of red cups. And then glance towards the keg. I take a cup off the top and thank her.
A thin line of beer dribbles out of the spigot into my cup. A few pumps, and the beer flows. I fill it up an inch and stare down at the liquid.
Easiest thing in the world.
I drink the inch of liquid and drop my cup into the trash on the way to where Cassie’s tucked into a couch, swaddled in our coats. She squints at a book close to her face
in the dim house-party light. She’s taken to that over the last few weeks. Sometimes manically—like she’s going to discover an answer to the Mackie question in one of them.
I flop down next to her. She lays her head on my shoulder and turns the page.
When I close my eyes most of the way, the clash of people turns into a slow churn of colors. When I open my eyes, the room is life and movement. Guys throwing away smiles, girls arguing when they should be listening. I open and close my eyes, open and close, open and close.
Cassie dog-ears a page. “Are you ready?”
“Always.”
I haul myself up and extend a hand to her.
“Hey.”
I jump at the closeness of the word. Sebastian wraps me in one of his amazing hugs. Mackie stands two feet behind him with hands in his pockets and his gaze averted from the couch.
“How are you?” Sebastian keeps me plastered to his side.
I shrug. It’s a question I don’t think about. “How’s my sister?”
Cassie stands and tucks the book under her arm, and both Sebastian and I glance at her. She crosses behind him and stops a foot away from Mackie. “Hi.” She twists a lock of hair around her finger and pulls it into her mouth. “I need to say something to you.”
Sebastian refocuses on me. “Sloane’s good, I guess. She’d be better if she returned your calls.”
I put on my bravest smile. “Sloane will call when she’s ready. Will you tell her I love her?”
“She knows. But I’ll remind her.”
I tiptoe and give him a thank-you kiss on his rough cheek.
Cassie says something too quiet to hear. Mackie leans closer to her but keeps two inches of awkward space between them. Cassie keeps dropping her gaze to her shoes. My whole body itches to go over there and give Mackie an earful.
As if he knows what’s going on in my tangled brain, Sebastian squashes me harder with the one-armed hug. “There’s someone else you should call.”
I shake my head. I don’t know how to say his name, like the word is too big to rest on my tongue.
Sebastian tilts his head. “You need to talk about it.”
No.
I slip out of his hug. My calves hit the couch. “Why would you bring that up?”
His lips tighten. “It was just a question.”
I take those careful, steady breaths Claire has me practicing and remember who I’m mad at. It’s not Sebastian.
Breathe, Min-Sun. “I’m sorry.” Inhale. Exhale. “It’s hard for me to talk about him.” I let my lungs find a rhythm and try not to think about breathing. Which is pretty much impossible.
Sebastian nods. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“A couple of weeks. I’m sure it’s no big deal. Kepler’s fanatical about finals. He’s probably got a cardboard box set up outside the library.” He waves a hand in the air.
I don’t feel the same ease. Kepler hasn’t been at the library. I know because I’ve looked. “Do you ever think that he might need—I don’t know…” An intervention sounds too serious to say out loud.
Sebastian’s forehead lines, and he roughs up already messy hair. “Need what?”
“Some help?” I chomp down on my lip. Kepler and help. He chased me around for so long with his crazy notion of helping me. I never trusted his motives. Maybe he was just looking for the same thing in return.
“Help with what?” Sebastian blinks at me.
“You don’t see it. How much he smokes.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Kepler? You mean Mr. 4.0, always on top of everything, Kepler? I don’t think a guy gets into MIT if he’s got a drug problem.”
“He never lets you see it.” The reason he never talks about his parents. Living alone in that house in the middle of nowhere. All that armor he’s got on—it’s to keep everyone away from the truth.
Sebastian shakes his head. “I don’t know—”
“He won’t listen to me. But I…” My voice wavers. All these words will choke me if I don’t get them out. “I need your help.”
He grins. Not the reaction I was hoping for. “Jean Lo asking for help. There’s something you don’t see every day.”
I’ve got to get someone else to see what I see. “Sebastian—”
His smile fades. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I nod, hoping that he’ll take me seriously, and I then glance to see Cassie shifting from foot to foot.
I step away from Sebastian and towards my friend. A few steps closer, and I can hear Mackie’s low voice. “We don’t need to date. We could just keep hanging out.”
Fuck him. I trap a thousand curses in my throat. Mackie glances up at me, and our respective glares might set the house on fire. I hate what he did to Cassie. And I hate that she’s standing there, talking with him like it’s no big deal. Just like she always does. And Mackie is trying to suck her back.
I’m not going to let that happen. I step up to Mackie. “I’ve got a few things to say.”
Cassie puts a hand on my shoulder. I take a breath and swallow my fuck off.
“Fuck off, Mackie.”
What? At first I think I errantly said it. But I turn to find Cassie blazing. My friend is Marvel’s Phoenix herself. Shoulders back, red hair vibrant, and an untouchable air around her like she’s about to start hovering.
Cassie drops her hand from my shoulder. I don’t hide the grin on my face.
Mackie blinks at her. “What did I say?”
“Hang out.” She mimics his low voice.
Mackie takes a beautiful step back.
Cassie sucks in a deep breath and rolls her shoulders. “What you really mean is give you another forty blowjobs, then lay there while you explain how returning the favor interferes with your values.”
Mackie shakes his head. “That’s not what—”
“I’m not done yet.” Cassie’s voice rises above the music and gathers a few onlookers. “Or dealing with your jealousy because you think a girl like me probably has sex with her best friend.”
Wait. That’s his issue with me? He thinks Cassie and I are sleeping together? I cut my laugh off when I realize my best friend is just getting started. I want to hear every damn word she says.
“Or how you can’t trust me.” Cassie points her finger at him over the book grasped in her hand. “Or how I’m probably screwing guys every time you go to the bathroom. Like I don’t have any self-control. You’re the one without self-control.”
Mackie sinks his hands into his pockets. “Okay, so you’re mad. I can see that. Why don’t you calm down—”
“I won’t calm down.” She stands up to her full height, her words so strong and certain. She’s beautiful and powerful and perfect.
He reaches out to take her arm, but she yanks away from him. She glances at me, and her eyebrows hitch. I smile and nod towards Mackie. I don’t think she’s done yet. My huge smile makes her grow one of her own. When she turns back to him, she’s still smiling. “So fuck off, Mackie.”
She pivots with that confident smile on her face and carves between groups of onlookers, red hair and silence floating behind her. She yanks open the front door, and a swirl of cold and snow fills the room in her wake.
Now that’s a fucking exit.
Sebastian tries to hide his own grin with his hand. He gives me a quick hug. “Good for her,” he whispers. And we both go to our respective sides of the battlefield.
Cassie is halfway down the front walk when I catch up with her. I extend her coat, which I snagged off the couch before following after her. A little best-friend assistance.
“That felt good.” She slips on her bright pink coat. Snow clusters on her eyelashes and hair. She stuffs the book in her pocket. “No wonder you yell at people.”
I bundle my coat around me. “That was amazing.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a puff of white. “I had things mixed up before.” She slides forward on one foot, leaving
a track in the snow.
“Not that I’ll stop picking up guys.” She grips onto my hand and pulls me forward down the slick sidewalk. “But I never believed one guy could be enough. I always thought that would be lonely. I was wrong. Mackie isn’t my termite, but I need to take what I can from him and move on. That’s all any of us can do.”
The cold air is sharp in my lungs and bites my skin. Cassie slides forward, and I reach for her, but I fall into the powder, sending snow everywhere.
Cassie laughs that playful four-year-old laugh I haven’t heard for weeks. I pick myself up, and we slip-and-slide the rest of the way home, laughing when we tumble into the powder and brushing snow off our pants and coats. She’s right—the best we can do is learn and move on.
But after I take the hottest shower on earth and slide under my comforter, I still have that feeling like a too-big word is caught in my throat. And my heart is two sizes too small.
My tires skid over packed snow, and I force myself to slow. Other campuses close for two feet of snow, but Rock Falls gets busier.
I maneuver to a parking spot by the library. With finals one week away, I have to study—even if I’ve got zero will to learn about linguistic principles as the rule of law. It’s hard to study when everything inside of me has split in two.
I grab my backpack. Snow swirls outside the car, and I yank up my scarf to cover my chin and lips as I make my way around parking-lot hills of plowed snow. The cold crawls through my coat and settles in my spine, and it doesn’t leave when I step into the library. I stay wrapped up in my scarf and hat as my gaze flits over Kepler’s table. No legal pads or physics books stuffed with Post-its.
I pass the long tables and take the stairs down to the cubby desks hiding in the stacks. I drop my bag on a table and unwrap my scarf.
“Jean.”
He says.
Kepler leans on the edge of the wooden divider. He’s wearing a black sweater over a gray t-shirt. He takes off his glasses and clutches them so hard he might break them.
“I saw you pass by and thought I should say hi. One of us should”—he grabs the end of my scarf with his free hand—“say hi.”