by Danny Tobey
He would be expelled. He could appeal, but it wouldn’t matter. That would take months. Maybe years. And he would lose. Columbia would never, ever take him. Or anywhere else.
He was an investigator—a good one—yet he couldn’t see any way out of this. The web around him was suffocating.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Ramirez alone,” Morrissey said, sending a chill through the room. Kenny and Candace were already up and slinking out when she added, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you were part of bribing Mr. Walker to break in. Don’t test me again.”
Candace said, “Okay.”
Kenny added, “Yes, ma’am,” as his parents had taught him.
“Oh, and Mr. Baker, about that injury in the Tech Lab?”
He froze.
“I’m going to need you to sign a release. I don’t want to hear about this later. I trust that won’t be an issue?”
“No, no issue.”
She nodded, already turning toward Eddie.
Later, Eddie would leave her office, too, alone, the hallways empty with class in session, thank God, because before he could reach the privacy of the bathroom stalls, he would break into tears and slump down on the floor of the hall.
His life was ruined.
And he wasn’t entirely sure how or why.
47 FALSE WITNESS
As they left the office, Candace pulled Kenny aside and said, “Come here.”
She looked gorgeous as always to Kenny, a mature kind of beauty people would look back in a yearbook and say, How could I have not noticed her?
Except Kenny had always noticed her. Her rich brown skin from her Jamaican side, the stark ginger-blond curls from her Scottish side. She didn’t fit in, just like he didn’t. Except where he was quiet and soft, letting people walk over him, she was ambitious and strong. It was intoxicating.
But what the hell had just happened in Morrissey’s office?
Before he could ask, she tossed him something. “Catch!”
He caught it reflexively, then opened his hands to find the vial of his blood.
“What? But you just told Mrs. Morrissey…”
“I get it.” She smiled at him coyly. “You’re still in character. Method. Nice.”
What is she talking about? Why did she lie to Morrissey’s face?
“I can’t believe that.” Her face flushed with excitement.
“Yeah,” Kenny stalled.
“I mean, it went off just like you said.”
Like I said? “Right.” Kenny tried to act like he had a clue to what was going on.
Candace gave him a funny look. Had he blown his cover already? But this look was different. It sent a delicious shiver up his spine.
“You know, I’m impressed,” Candace said.
“Really?”
“The way you handled this. You didn’t let Eddie steamroll you.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes, that. I’m serious. You always struck me as the kind of guy who would walk away from a fight.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Maybe if you’re Jesus. Not at Turner.”
She took a step toward him. They were alone in the cafeteria, the lights still off. In the distance, they could hear clattering from the lunch prep in the back.
“On the phone this morning, it was a new you.”
On the phone? This morning?
He’d never called Candace in his life.
They were strictly papermates.
Yet the way she was looking at him now made him feel strong in his chest. He stood a little taller. He felt a little tingle.
“How did I sound?” He was just curious, but it somehow came out flirtatious.
“You were … like a boss. Eddie wasn’t going to roll you.” She took another step closer. He could feel the electricity. “You were going to roll him.”
Kenny could lift his hand and close the distance between them. His hand could fall right on her shoulder. The back of her neck. The small of her waist.
He tried but it wouldn’t move.
Like a boss. You were going to roll him.
“And you … believed me?”
“Yeah. Who knew you had balls?”
She mentioned my balls! What would Harry Styles do?
This was uncharted territory. Yet she moved closer. The look in her eyes hadn’t faded.
“You lied for me.”
“Yeah.”
“You believed me.”
“Your story?” She shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe Eddie set you up. Maybe you set him up.”
“Then why?”
She took that final step. Her face was so close to his.
“It was your voice this morning. I just knew. You were going to win.”
She leaned in then and their lips met. Kenny had never kissed a girl before. Or a boy. Or any nonrelated human. The soft press of lips lit him up like a firecracker.
Someone dropped a tray in the kitchen and they pulled apart abruptly, suddenly self-conscious as if they’d realized they were naked.
“Whoa,” Candace said.
On any other day, Kenny would’ve said whoa back.
But today he heard himself blurt, “About damn time.”
Forget the Game using my voice on the phone, he thought—he’d seen AIs on YouTube master voices after minutes of audio samples. More pressing: Who the hell inside me just said that!
Candace shook her head. “I like it. I like this you.”
The bell rang and it was time to go. Kenny didn’t want to blow his cover. He didn’t want to stop this. But still, he had to know.
“Aren’t you curious? If it’s my blood in the vial?”
She smiled. “Like you said, if it is, he just got it from the robot thing in the Tech Lab.”
“So why lie? Why not just give her the vial and explain it?”
He shouldn’t be asking. He was going to blow it all. That kiss!
But he had to know.
She looked confused. “You said it. Sometimes the truth needs a little help.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go. Just remember your promise.”
“My promise…”
“Don’t you dare back out. I’m the EIC now. You’re my deputy.” She leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Don’t worry, the work environment will only be as hostile as you want it.”
And with that she was gone.
Kenny sat there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. From certain expulsion and public humiliation to Candace kissing him and Eddie out of his life in the blink of an eye.
All Your Dreams Come TrueTM, he thought.
Indeed.
Why did it feel so shitty?
48 EXECUTION
Alex sat in Physics, his hands shaking like crazy under the desk.
Mrs. Kite walked from desk to desk, passing out the exams from yesterday.
He repeated his mantras the Game had taught him to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working. His Aziteks were on his nose, and he played with the day/night cycles outside to distract himself, spinning the sun and the moon and stars in rapid succession.
Mrs. Kite passed out Jenny Prentiss’s test. A+, of course. That smug smirk on Jenny’s face. An A? For me?
He would never run out of Goldz again. He had pledged that, to himself, to the Game.
Alex imagined his father waiting at home tonight. Please, please, please, he whispered, I can’t take it. It wasn’t the whupping. It was the look in his dad’s eyes.
His head was down and so he only sensed Mrs. Kite before him, the flap of wind from her wallpaper dress and her dime-store perfume, thick and flowery. He opened his eyes and she was right there, trying to hand him his paper. She glanced at it before handing it to him, as if she couldn’t quite remember what he got. Her expression was unreadable.
He reached out a shaking hand and took the paper. He looked at the grade in red ink and saw the 61.
“Better,” Mrs. Kite said honestly.
And it was better, a little. It beat the 26 from last time. It beat the 41 from the time before. But it was still a fail. And he knew the rules. His dad had been clear. Don’t bring home another fail. There were no special dispensations. No bending the rules. Four lousy points from No Pain. It might as well have been infinity.
Wild fear ran through him, and then a numb calm. He slid the paper into his bag. To everyone else in the room, he looked okay. Mrs. Kite was already passing out the next paper to someone else.
49 DELIVER ME
Tim Fletcher got a text. Someone was always texting him. Great game. Great party. Great future. Great life. But this was weird and different.
Ask her what she did with the bracelet.
No name. No number.
He felt the rage flare instantly.
He knew something was up with that bracelet. Why hadn’t she worn it yesterday? Why had she acted so over-the-top calm when he pressed her on it. Too calm. It was a tell.
He should’ve trusted his instincts.
She’d been drifting for months. He’d discussed it with her parents. This was a dangerous time, right before college, for her to go off the rails. Some mistakes even privilege couldn’t fix.
He found in her usual hiding spot, studying in the always-empty overflow room on 3E. Why did she need to study? What the fuck for? What did that say about him?
“Do you have it today?”
“What?” she said, playing dumb.
He was done with that. “The fucking bracelet. Let me see it.”
“It’s at home.…”
“Bullshit. Do you think I’m going to let you make a fool of me?”
“Tim, come on, I—”
“Enough.”
He slammed his fist down so hard on the table the room went deadly silent the moment everything stopped rattling. Mary pushed away from her laptop, the little eye staring back blankly at her, and glared at Tim.
He smirked back. “No more lies. Not about Charlie. Not about the bracelet. Not about Caitlyn and that fucking wannabe Peter. Enough.” He leaned across the table. Slowly he said, “Where the fuck is my bracelet?”
Mary met his eyes. “I threw it in the lake.”
“Is that some kind of joke?”
Mary had the calm of a captain whose ship would sink no matter what she did. She folded her arms. “No joke.”
Then she braced herself.
* * *
Kenny and Charlie met in the Tech Lab.
“What happened?”
“We’re okay now.”
“That’s it? You get called to Morrissey’s office, and suddenly we’re okay?”
“What about you? Did you quit?”
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“What did it say?”
“It said okay.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, it also said bye.”
“That sounds good.”
“Then it sent me a picture of a grave.”
“Oh. For you?”
“For my mom. And me.”
“That’s sick.”
“Yeah.”
“And evil.”
“I know.”
Kenny almost said something, then didn’t.
“Are you okay?” Charlie asked.
“Not really.”
“Can I help?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Can you quit? Now that we’re in the clear?”
“It could take it back in a second.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t think we’re ever in the clear.” Then Kenny thought of Candace. “But there’s some good things, too.”
“Like?”
Kenny couldn’t bring himself to say. It was almost shameful, earning his first kiss through a game. He just shook his head.
“Was it worth it?” Charlie asked.
Kenny thought of the look on Eddie’s face, his world crumbling around him. Eddie was a jerk, long before the Game was in their lives. Who’s to say he didn’t have it coming? Kenny thought of the way Candace’s tongue felt, gliding along his own.
He saw the wall, smeared with bile in two words and four crossed lines.
Yet he meant what he said to Vanhi, that bile was always there, no matter how many people thought it had magically vanished. What had his father always said about infections in the ER? You have to lance a boil. The puss must come out. Or it explodes. Maybe the graffiti would start a dialogue. Lead to a crackdown on racist thugs at school. There were plenty.
So—was it worth it?
He tried to run the math, but in the end all he could say was “I have no idea.”
* * *
Mr. Walker sat across the street, down the block at the bus stop.
He’d been there for two hours, letting each bus pass on the half hour.
It was strange. He knew which one was his. He could ride the bus alone, even when his dad was still alive.
It was upsetting to hear his father’s voice this morning, but it was also nice. He didn’t understand the rules of being dead. He knew what his mom had told him, that it meant going away. She never said you couldn’t call, especially if it was important.
He wondered if his dad would call back again. Somehow, he knew the answer was no.
Earlier, when the Mexican kid left, Morrissey’s secretary had called him back in. She said it so nice, Mr. Walker knew something bad was going to happen.
“Mr. Walker, thank you for telling me what happened earlier.”
“Okay.” He fiddled with his overalls.
“Now, I need you to listen closely. You can’t work here anymore.”
“Ma’am?”
“You took bribes from a student. You let kids into a dangerous off-limits area. I can forgive you for washing away evidence because, well, just because. But the rest? Mr. Walker, you knew better, didn’t you?”
He hung his head in shame. Even if he had lied about some of it, yes, he did do the things she said.
“I knew better,” he managed.
“That’s all, Mr. Walker. Get your things, and Mr. McMahon will see you out.”
Dragon: Roar!
“Ma’am?” he asked, not moving yet.
“What is it, Mr. Walker?”
“Well, where exactly do I go, Mrs. Morrissey?”
“Now? To get your things, from the staff.…”
“No, ma’am. Not now. Monday, I mean.”
Mrs. Morrissey sighed. I had been a brutally long day.
“That’s up to you, Mr. Walker. But it can’t be here. Understand?”
He nodded. It was awful. But it beat what the voice said could’ve happened. This was just what he deserved, for the things he’d done.
If he were smarter, if he weren’t such a Dumb Dingus, he might’ve been able to think his way out of this. As it was, he couldn’t quite connect all the events in his mind at the same time.
He let another bus pass, but he would get on the next one. He looked down the street again, at the windows he’d polished and the trash cans he’d emptied for all those years, and realized he felt sad to go.
* * *
Mary rubbed her throat. She touched her side gingerly.
She could tell on him. But she knew what would happen if she did.
Wednesday had been the anniversary of the crash. On this day, two years ago, they had pulled the plug on Mary’s brother in the ICU.
Six months later, she founded her school’s chapter of SADD in his honor. Caitlyn had warned her not to. “I know you’re sad, and this sucks, but really? Who’s gonna join a club that says you can’t drink?”
Caitlyn, Tim, Kurt, all of them. She was done. It had taken her years to unlearn the things her family had taught her. To unsee the world the way they did. But she had no idea what lay beyond. Whom to be. She felt like an atom on the verge of exploding, the forces holding her fragile world together only a hair stronger than the forces pulling it apart.
She needed to do something f
or herself. Something Tim would hate. Something he had told her not to do. A first step.
She knew what that was.
She walked down the hallway, past the bronze tiger with one paw raised in attack, to the bulletin board with the pen hanging by a chain. A notice said:
STUDENT BODY PRESIDENT—ELECTION NOV. 8, 2016.
Tim had always hated student council. You don’t represent these people, he told her. You’re not on the same planet with them.
He would really hate this.
She scanned the list.
A few names were on it now, but only the last one caught her eye.
Charlie Lake.
She was shocked. Then she was proud. She knew what it meant for Charlie to take a step—a big, public step—back into the world of the living.
She remembered his lips, the rough edge of the cut where he took the punch for a weak kid being attacked by a strong kid.
Good for him, she thought.
But then another voice in her mind said, You are not going to let another man get in the way of your dreams. Not again. You have to put yourself first. For once.
It was like the bracelet Charlie had tried to give her—well-meaning, but at the end of the day, same handcuff, different jailer.
This wasn’t about Charlie. This was about her.
But what would it do to him?
She didn’t know, and her hand hesitated.
Then she thought of Tim and signed her name at the bottom of the list.
* * *
Charlie watched the video on his phone. It came just like the mall video—OH SNAP—but this time it was Mary and Tim. The hand on the neck. The smack to the gut.
It erased itself, gone forever, the moment it had played.
He wanted to find Mary. But he’d seen her texts about him. She wasn’t interested.
His next instinct was to run to Peter. The night he showed Charlie that video of Kurt, Peter had offered Charlie some kind of secret information on Tim, too. Turning it down had seemed noble at the time, but Charlie wondered briefly if it was too late to get it back.
But he was done with the Game—he’d promised himself. Plus he couldn’t face his friends if he crumbled so quickly, the moment he needed something, after making such a big production of quitting. He would handle this himself.