by Jaime Reed
“So I heard.” Mia’s eyes narrowed at me, and then her stare settled to my wrist. Instinctively, I pulled my coat sleeve over my bracelet. Angry as she might’ve been, Mia was a jewelry snob and had probably appraised its retail value from across the lot.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay,” she said to Caleb. “You gave us a good scare on Halloween.”
His gaze dropped to his boots, and his dimples dug into his cheeks in a way that would appear bashful on anyone else. But for Caleb, it was a loaded weapon in the hands of a child, ignorant of the devastation he could cause. “I know, but I’m okay, really. So what is this I hear about you and Sam not getting along?” he asked.
The question ruined the good-natured mood. She folded her arms and looked away with her chin high. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I have it on high authority that you’re ignoring her. What happened?”
“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? I mean, she’s still your girlfriend, isn’t she, or did Malik Davis snatch her up?”
Whoa! That was about a nine on the bitchmeter. One side effect of having our allure with the opposite sex was the display of hostility by those of our own gender. Mia was no different, but she was never this rabid before, never to me. What was bringing this on?
I stepped between them, but Caleb pulled me back. “I told you, there’s nothing going on with me and Malik. I wish you would believe me.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to our mediator. “Caleb, you’re a good guy and I think you have a right to know what’s been going on while you were in a coma!” She stressed the last part for my benefit. “Did she tell you about how she was creeping with another guy? You should’ve seen how she was throwing herself at him.”
“It wasn’t even like that and you know it. Caleb knows that I’m not interested in Malik. Why don’t you worry about your own love life and get your big nose out of mine?”
Mia gasped and her hand shot up to cover her nose. That was one of her most hated body parts, a feature that attested to her Filipino heritage. I didn’t mean it in the literal sense, but the mere suggestion had her ready to scrap. “You got a problem with my nose? How about you do a few sit-ups before you start talking about somebody, jelly roll?”
I stumbled back in shock. Oh, she went there.
Caleb made a T shape with his hands. “Whoa, ladies, time out. It’s not that serious. Mia, it’s just one big misunderstanding—no need to fight over it. Speaking of love lives, how are you and Doug holding up?”
“They’re not, and she’s taking it out on me,” I answered in a huff. This whole argument was ridiculous. How old were we again? And Caleb, bless his heart, was trying to be the adult in the situation.
“Whatever. Look, you guys do what you want—I don’t care. Just stay away from me, Sam.” With a dramatic toss of her ponytail, she stomped away.
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you in those three classes we share! Love you!” I called after Mia, who flipped me off in reply.
Great! Another hole in my life I needed to patch up. I’d have to wait until we both cooled down to talk to her again, or else we’d end up scratching each other’s eyes out.
“That went well,” Caleb said cheerfully.
“Just another day at James City High,” I whimpered and rested my head on his chest.
“This is a sign, you know. Our draw is at its strongest with the broken-hearted and desperate. She’s obviously miserable and that misery makes her highly sensitive to us.”
I knew what he was saying was true, but it didn’t make the pain go away. I wouldn’t give up, though. Not on her.
While Caleb held me, I noticed our theatrics were drawing a crowd, that of the female variety. Girls drew closer, riveted by the tall boy at my side.
“Um, I better go. The wolves are circling and I haven’t fed today. I don’t want to have all these teeny boppers after me,” he said and lowered his shades.
“Yeah, you better get lost, you dirty old man. Leave the young’uns alone.”
After a quick peck on the lips, I marched toward another day of education with a side of abuse. I barely made it to my locker before the circus began. The Courtneys, all three of them, strutted down the hall holding clipboards and passing out flyers. They wore matching V neck sweaters and pleated skirts with blue ribbons in their hair. Leading the march was Courtney B., the redheaded stepchild that I wanted to slap silly. The thought was extremely tempting given my current mood.
I hid my face in my locker, praying that they would just walk by me and pretend I didn’t exist, as usual. By doing so, I was pleased to find that my book bag and cell phone hadn’t moved from where I last placed them. That was one problem solved. Only ninety-nine more to go.
“Sabrina, I was wondering if you would be interested in signing this pledge. We’re doing a fundraiser. Since you two were pretty close I’m sure you would like to contribute to the cause.”
Coming to terms with the fact that Courtney still couldn’t remember my name after six years, I braced myself for another helping of insults. Slowly, I turned around to face the trio. “What fundraiser?”
“The Malik Davis foundation. We’re offering support for his family while the police continue the search for him.” Courtney B. turned to her left to the blonde with a short pixy haircut. “Courtney G. is working on a fabulous collage with all of his pictures.” Then she regarded the brunette at her right whose skin was one big freckle. “And Courtney C. is setting up a talent show type deal to raise awareness. The principal already agreed to have a little performance for the pep rally next week.”
“Fabulous,” I said with no emotion. Envisioning a musical number in the middle of the day didn’t inspire any.
With wide eyes, Courtney G.’s head tilted to the side like a confused collie. “Your hair is really thick. Do you wear weaves?”
I stared the girl up and down. “No. Do you?”
“Can I touch it?”
“Not if you want your hand back,” I answered quickly.
Courtney B. stepped closer and showed me the sign-in sheet on the clipboard. “So anyway, I need you to sign here and there, and there’s a box you can check if you want to donate money to the gift basket.”
I stared blankly at her. “Gift basket?”
Courtney B. nodded. “It’s really nice. All the students are chipping in and—”
“Just give me the form.” I snatched the clipboard and scribbled my name on the empty space next to fifty other signatures. I didn’t ignore the fact that most of the names were females. Tobias had definitely left his mark on the girls in my school.
When I handed it back, I expected our little exchange to be over, but she continued to stand there watching me with what appeared to be sympathy in her cold, gray eyes. But I knew differently.
“This must be hard for you, Sonya, not knowing if your boyfriend is alive or dead. This is the second time you’ve had a guy meet a sudden misfortune. How strange. But we’re all rooting for Malik to come home safely. Just know that you’re also in our prayers.” The three of them made the Catholic sign of the cross at the same time.
Holding the clipboard to her chest, she leaned in and said, “I hear Caleb is out of the hospital, so you might not want Malik to come home too soon, am I right? I understand.” She gave me a sly, just-between-us-girls wink.
I was getting really sick of repeating myself. I had the urge to blurt out that an incubus was now the captain of the basketball team, and that we might actually have a shot at winning regionals this year. Though it would certainly make me feel better, it would just confirm the rumors of my flakiness. After all, I had no proof to back me up, none that would hold up in court.
In a true act of mercy, the bell rang.
“Oops, gotta go. Thanks again, Simone.” With a wave, Courtney skipped away with her two trusty lapdogs at her sides.
First period went by without incident or my full attention. I had other things on my mind and a list of questio
ns that needed answers. Number one: where the hell was Tobias? My concern wasn’t brought on by fondness, but a basic survival tactic while in battle, to always be one step ahead of your enemy.
I kept looking over my shoulder in government class, staring at the empty desk in the back row. A part of me expected him to materialize out of vapor, or roll up late in his Malik costume. The way I saw it, if you were going to steal someone’s identity, then at least have the decency to follow through with it and show up to class.
I was on edge by the time lunch rolled around, my curiosity growling louder than my stomach. Instead of the loners that I usually sat with, I wandered past enemy lines to the more popular side of the cafeteria, prowling for spiritual sustenance. My lunch mates hadn’t expected my seating change, but I assured them it was a temporary transfer. I moved from table to table, taking in that thin film of vitality that covered each living creature in a yummy aura.
You would think I rolled up to the lunch room in see-through lingerie the way the guys were staring at me. Even the ones who had girlfriends (plural). I got bum rushed by every type of the Y-chromosome, from that really close talker guy, the dude with the breath that could curl lashes, that player that always grabbed at his crotch. They were all food for me, much like how a cow was nothing but a cheeseburger with legs.
As a rule, I try to avoid people who make lewd comments about me and my genitalia, so I skipped over those and headed to my main entrée. The real heartbreaker was the painfully shy guy who conjured every ounce of courage to talk to me. These are the ones I actually give the time of day and in turn, made their day with a kiss on the cheek. And even with this level of discipline it was still a challenge not to feed directly or take too much from one person. Temptation would always be there.
Now that my hunger was sated, my curiosity needed fuel. There was no better source of intel than the eyes and ears of the school.
Dougie, along with his teammates, gawked at me as I sat next to him. He snuck a glance around the cafeteria for someone else I might be staring at, then asked, “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“Yeah. That one time in the fourth grade.” I patted his hair and almost got impaled by the short black spikes glossed with gel.
Once the shock of my presence wore off, he dove into the pyramid stack of burritos on his tray. The muscles in his arm flexed under his thermal undershirt. Though he was about five-eight, Dougie was filling out in all the right places, thanks to his spot on the wrestling team and the excessive appetite that rivaled Caleb’s. “So, you makin’ up for your shadiness and finally gracin’ us with your divine presence?”
“Shut it, Dougie. I’m here on a mission.” I craned my neck over the heads of students and scoped out the entrance.
“What kind of mission?” He wolfed down the rest of his burrito in one bite.
“For one: I have an appointment with Jason Lao and he won’t meet with me at my own table. Some crap about social boundaries. So you’re neutral territory.”
“Right,” he drawled with his mouth full, salsa dripping down his chin.
“And two: I want to ask you about Mia, specifically which type of bug crawled up her ass and died. You know, just so I can classify what species of crazy I’m working with here,” I said.
Keeping to her word, Mia continued to avoid me in class, proof that the “silent treatment” wasn’t just for fifth graders anymore. It was high time that I got to the bottom of this before a fight broke out on the monkey bars at recess. If anyone knew what was up, it would be her estranged other half and part-time stalker.
“You got me.” He shrugged; a hopeless gesture of a man who had given up on life. “She’s got nothin’ but attitude these days, but it’s time for her to grow up. Anyway, I’m done with her.”
I shook my head and made a tsk-ing sound. “Dougie, you know good and well that you’ll never really be done with her.”
“As long as she’s actin’ stank, I am. I’m officially on the market.”
“Did you put out an ad yet?” I joked.
“As a matter of fact, I posted a full spread on Jason Lao’s site. Got two hundred hits already—even got a reply from a forty-year-old lady in Norfolk. She looks hot for her age.” He winked, and the mischief in his eyes made them twinkle with greens and browns that changed to match whatever he wore.
God, I hoped he was kidding, but knowing Douglas Emerson III, I doubted it. Talking with him like this reminded me just how much I missed my friend, the privileged anti-prep with an obsession with all things hip-hop. He embodied everything normal in my life, and I clung to each nuance. Warm and fuzzy memories came with Dougie, and Lilith noted each one and stopped targeting him as food, which was another reason I enjoyed hanging with him. He was the only non-virgin who didn’t want to jump my bones. Telling by the hungry stares by his teammates, he was also the only guy at the table who wasn’t imagining me naked. Refreshing.
Jason Lao scurried to our table, wearing a white shirt, a tweed blazer, and a permanent note of urgency. Of the four years I’ve known this kid, he always dressed like he was going to a job interview, and always searched his surroundings in case the feds were after him.
“You rang?” he asked, sounding annoyed at our secret meeting.
“Yeah? What’s the latest on the web-a-sphere?” I asked.
“A whole lot. There’s a Secret Santa thing going on and it’s causing heavy traffic and slowing down my site. Oh, Doug, you had a few more hits on your personal ad. I checked out some of the girls’ profiles, and whoa—HOT!” Jason fanned himself, then continued. “And I just set up a dedication page on Malik Davis. The comments are piling up pretty quick.”
I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t this a little too much? We don’t even know where he is? Didn’t you say he ran away?”
“Yeah, but tell that to his groupies on the pep squad,” Jason replied. “Just this morning, a girl bursts into tears in the middle of class. Man, I wish I had that kind of power over the ladies.”
Trust me, you don’t, I thought.
“Besides, the police aren’t so sure that he ran away,” he added.
Dougie and I exchanged glances. “What do you mean?” I asked.
After a quick peek over his shoulder, Jason leaned in and said, “Well, Patricia Hughes works in the main office after school, answering phones, sifting mail, and all that crap, right? Well, she was there when the police came in yesterday, and she heard that his truck was found on a side road in the Colonial Parkway. It’s really weird. That’s Malik’s second accident. Remember the one in September?”
Dougie scoffed. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. And we had to sit through that dumb ass assembly about drinking and driving. Malik might wanna lay off the sauce and practice what he preaches.” He unwrapped his third burrito.
“That’s cold, dude!” Jason exclaimed, but still found it funny. “He could be dead for all we know. The parkway is no joke. I won’t even drive through there in the daytime.”
I kept quiet as the guilt of what I knew rode me hard. Malik had died in that first accident and my continued silence only piled on to this growing mountain of suck. This latest development only made me hate Tobias more. His sick game was prolonging the pain of an innocent family and denying them closure.
The bad news just kept on coming as Jason went on with his story. “She said the cops found the truck abandoned in a ditch. There were scratches on the driver’s side, like he might’ve hit something. But anyway, Malik wasn’t with the truck, so wherever he is, he’s on foot, or . . .” he let the sentence hang, but every grim possibility filled the blanks.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if they saw smoke coming out of my ears—my brain was working overtime. Had Tobias gotten hurt in a car accident? Maybe he was in a coma. It would serve him right, a true stroke of karma after what he did to Caleb. But Tobias was virtually indestructible, well able to walk away from a simple fender bender. More importantly, I would’ve sensed his reactions to the collision, his pain, his alar
m. But I couldn’t feel him anymore. In fact, I hadn’t sensed him at all since yesterday just before . . . my blackout.
“So, Sam.” Jason leaned in with intrigue; the local gossip hound still on duty. “How do you feel about the latest development? You guys were sort of an item, right?”
“No. We weren’t, and let me go on the record by saying that I was never, ever with Malik. Put that in bold print for everyone to see.” I rose to my feet.
“What’s with her?” I heard Jason ask as I left the table.
“I dunno, man. Girls are all messed up in the head ’round here,” Dougie replied.
In the quiet of the hall stairwell, I leaned against the wall and controlled my breathing. There was too much going on; too many unanswered questions. Tobias had suddenly dropped off the face of the earth, roughly around the same time I lost consciousness for two hours. Maybe Tobias had a similar effect, but he seemed fine the last time I had a blackout. He mentioned that he preferred me that way, pliant and at his mercy. What happened in those two hours to cause Tobias to disappear? More importantly, where was I when all this was going on?
“Lilith,” I called. “You wanna help me out here?”
No response.
It was worth a try. With a heavy sigh, I pushed off the wall and moved toward my next class, though the only subject I had on my mind was Tobias.
4
A shiny new quarter slipped through the coin slot as I gave the metal dial one good turn.
At the end of the rotation, five measly pieces of candy fell out the dispenser and tumbled into my waiting hand. Quarters didn’t amount to much these days, but I alone seemed to appreciate their value. I frowned at my pitiful rations and saw it as a prelude to a much bigger rip-off.
Popping a Skittle in my mouth, I strolled through the sitting area, past the car showroom to the bank of windows that overlooked the dealership. BIG LARRY’S END-OF-THE-YEAR BLOWOUT SALE was written on a red banner at the entrance.
I’d seen this sign all over town, along with the corny commercials on TV. It was hard to forget a three hundred pound white guy dressed like a pimp and a dancing bulldog. Thankfully, there were no half naked women on the grounds; however, the dog, also named Larry, was an active part of the buying experience. At the moment, he circled around me, sniffing my legs while wearing an elf hat and bells around his collar.