No Fear

by Darcia Helle

  My real name is Susan Elizabeth Wright, though I haven't been that person since I graduated college. Even back then I'd experimented with different names, trying them on to the way other women try on dresses. Once, in my college years, I'd had no trouble convincing a group of people at a music festival that my name was Chen Li. I don't look the least bit Asian. I think that's when I knew for sure I could be anyone I wanted.

  I always hated the ordinariness of my real name. Maybe I'd have been content in remaining myself had my parents given me a unique name that I could have all to myself.

  Silly fantasy. The real problem, I know, is I was never sure who I really was.

  I'd known marrying Bryce was risky. The event was such a public spectacle. But Bryce was British and the wedding took place on his estate in Weybridge, so I thought I'd be safe coming back here to the states as someone else. I'd only traveled to New York with Bryce once, in order to attend the God-awful gala celebrating the acquisition of a software company there. We'd stayed in his penthouse for five long weeks. All I did was shop and go to the spa during the day, while he went to secret meetings at the company's high-rise office building. My entire reason for targeting him had been that company's competition. That damn software company. I'd gotten them what they needed and, in fact, slipped the thumb drive to my contact at the gala the night before Bryce and I left on our trip back to England.

  Corporate espionage is not something I want to admit to Kaden. I have no lie prepared to cover this truth.

  He holds his iPhone out toward me. "I googled it. You disappeared six months after you married him. He was murdered a few weeks later."

  I want to deny being that girl. Maybe I can claim she's my estranged twin sister. Spring some tears and say I don't talk about her because she abandoned me when we were teenagers, right after our parents died in the car accident. More lies for my trunk.

  Tears burn my eyes. Real ones. I try to blink them away. All I can say as Kaden grips his phone with the image of Bryce's face is, "I know."

  "You know? Jesus Christ! What am I supposed to do with that? I don't even know who you are."

  "You do. You know the things that matter."

  "Really? Funny, I didn't know you'd been classified as missing since leaving and possibly killing your first husband. And that seems damn important."

  "I didn't kill him." I'm pretty sure I know who did kill him, but it wasn't me. I hadn't lied when I told Bryce I've never killed anyone.

  "Why would I believe that, when everything about you is a lie, Jade?"

  "My name isn't Jade."

  "Was this guy even your first husband? How many times have you been married? How many guys have you claimed to love? And where the hell do I fit in? It's not like I have a lot of money. This guy must've left you set for life, though. Right? So I guess me being a lowly middle-class loser wasn't such an inconvenience. You could enjoy slumming it for a while."

  "Kaden, please stop."

  He sucks in a breath, sets his phone on the floor, and rubs his hands over his face. "I don't understand. This girl, that other you, was a mindless socialite. You're a kindergarten teacher! How does a person make that kind of extreme change?"

  I'd never wanted a husband and sure as hell hadn't wanted a family. During my teen years, my friends babysat for extra cash. I mowed lawns. When I decided to give Claudia a background in education, I'd really been thinking about having the summer off and lots of paid holidays. The whole thing was supposed to be temporary. A year at most. I was between jobs, playing with possibilities, stepping into yet another pair of shoes to see how they fit. The truly crazy thing is, within a week, I realized I loved the job. I love teaching little minds. The kids make me laugh and give me hope for a different kind of future.

  Back when Kaden and I first got serious, I told him I didn't think I could have kids. I made up a story about endometriosis and scar tissue. A lie told to conceal the fact that I didn't want kids, because I knew he did. Now my hand strays down to my stomach. Being with the kids at school made me rethink my childless state. Being with Kaden made me rethink everything.

  Just this morning I'd taken the pee test. I am carrying Kaden's child. Pregnant. Me. Claudia. The me I want to be forever.

  I'd been so excited by the plus sign on the pregnancy test that I'd literally jumped up and down, screaming with delight. I'd studied my face in the bathroom mirror, sure I could already see that pregnant glow. Kaden had left for work an hour earlier, and I needed all my restraint not to call him and shout my news over the phone. But I'd waited because I wanted to deliver the news in a quiet moment, face to face.

  Had that really happened just this morning? I suddenly feel so far removed from all that joy.

  Should I tell Kaden now? You're going to be a daddy! Those words sound all wrong up here in this musty attic, with the trunk of lies wedged between us.

  Tears slip down my cheeks. I can't hold them back any longer. Don't want to expend the energy trying. I love Kaden more than I ever thought possible. If only I'd known Claudia is the person I was meant to be all along.

  Fairies Wear Boots

  The song sifted into my mind, nudging me awake. Ozzy’s unmistakable voice singing about fairies wearing boots. Black Sabbath used to be one of my favorite bands, though I haven’t listened to them in years. I didn’t even have the albums anymore. I’d tossed the vinyl long ago for the convenience of MP3s. So where the hell was the music coming from?

  My brain felt fuzzy, weighed down with something more than fatigue. Must have had a few too many beers last night. I raised my heavy eyelids, expecting to find myself in bed, the music coming from my son’s room. The radio too loud on the rare occasion he didn’t have the earbuds stuffed in, blasting holes in his eardrums while he played those video games his mother insisted were too violent. I blinked at the bright light piercing my eyes and sputtered a curse at my wife for opening the damn blinds. Her passive-aggressive way of waking me when she was pissed about me staying out too late the night before. Then I noticed the sun, causing my eyes to burn, wasn’t coming through the bedroom window. It was streaming down directly from the sky, which was wide open above me.

  That was when I felt the grass beneath me, long and soft, tickling my bare arms in the breeze. What the hell? I turned my head, realized I was lying on my back in the middle of someone’s overgrown yard. Or a field. Where the hell was I, and how the hell did I get here?

  The song ended, and for a moment I thought the music had been part of a dream. Then it started again, that same song, the familiar guitar riff I hadn’t heard in years but immediately recognized. I pushed myself up to a sitting position. The quick motion caused the world to tilt and sway. I closed my eyes, listening to the music, thinking this had to be some sort of jackass prank. I’d been out with Paul and Danny the previous night, drinking and playing pool at our favorite haunt. I remembered a couple of shots of Jägermeister and a pretty blonde I’d considered hooking up with for a few hours of bliss before returning home to the drudgery of marriage. Had I gone home with her? Nah. I’d remember that. My buddies must have set me up, gotten me good and wasted, then left me out here. Perfect. Now I’d have to explain this to Annie. Like she’d believe I spent the night sleeping in a fucking field.

  But what the hell was with the song, and where was it coming from?

  Ozzy kept singing, now on the verse about going home late last night. Yeah, okay. I would have laughed, but I was too damn irritated and hung over. “Where are you idiots?” I called out. They had to be watching, probably catching the whole damn thing on video.

  No one answered me. Ozzy kept on singing, going on about the fairies wearing boots. Seriously, this was creeping me out more than I cared to admit. Something about that song.

  I took a slow, deep breath, hoping the rush of oxygen would clear my head. Looking around, I noticed a small pond a few feet away. Sunlight sparkled off the water, little stars glowing on the surface. Weird. I didn’t know of any pond near the bar. In fact, th
e bar was downtown, nowhere near fields and ponds. So how the hell did I end up here?

  I turned my head and caught sight of my feet stretched out before me. What the hell? I was wearing big, red rubber boots. The kind little kids were forced to wear by sadistic parents. Ugly fucking things. I wouldn’t have worn them at the age of five. I sure as hell didn’t own any now. Besides, it was the middle of summer. Who wears snow boots in the middle of summer?

  Ozzy’s voice was pleading for me to believe him, fairies do wear boots, he saw them. The song, the boots. A memory tickling the back corner of my mind.

  I reached down and yanked off the boots. Tossed them in the grass. Pushed myself up to stand.

  The song kept playing, drifting on the breeze, coming from nowhere and everywhere. I spun around, stumbling in my bare feet, looking for my idiot buddies so I could kick their asses.

  “All right, assholes!” I shouted. “You’ve had your fun. C’mon out.”

  Branches rustled, though I couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or someone moving in the bushes. The fucking song kept playing, Ozzy now singing about having gone too far. Then the wail of the guitar, and finally the music began to fade. I looked at the boots lying in the grass and tried to ignore the anxiety building in the pit of my stomach. Some distant memory, meaningless, or so I told myself. This prank had my buddies’ stupidity stamped all over it. Sticking me in boots and calling me a fairy. Ha, ha.

  I stepped over to the water, thought maybe I’d see people out there fishing. Houses with boat ramps. Something. But all I saw was grass and trees. The sun reflecting back at me, little explosive stars in my eyes.

  The fucking song started all over again. The intro caused goosebumps on my arms. I never got fucking goosebumps. Jesus.

  “Hello!” I called out, angry now, and maybe a little scared. My shouts had nearly turned to panic-driven screams.

  No reply.

  More panic.

  My heart slammed against my chest. My breath came in constricted gasps.

  Get a grip, I told myself.

  I stumbled through the grass, looking for a path that would lead me the hell out of here. The music drifted, following me. Ozzy and his damn fairies.

  I stepped on a sharp-edged rock, swore loud and furious. I wanted to hurt whoever left me out here. Wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until his windpipe crushed from the pressure. But something kept turning my anger to full-blown fear. That song and those fucking boots.

  Fairies wear boots.

  Taunting laughter.

  Fucking fairies!

  I stopped walking, thought, No. No fucking way.

  I spun around, searching, sure I’d lost my mind. My head throbbed. The song scratched my nerves raw. I wanted to scream for real now, would have if the last of my pride hadn’t held me in check.

  The rustling was louder this time. Movement in the brush a few feet away. In front of me. Behind me. I turned, looking, watching as they stepped out, encircling me, surrounding me like predators in the wild. Faces I hadn’t seen since grade school. Boys turned to men. On the street, I’d have walked right by them without a trace of recognition. But here, with the song and the boots, I knew.

  “Remember us?” Jimmy asked.

  He’d grown tall, well over six-feet. Rugged build. Blond hair, still thick. I nodded, careful to maintain my cool, pushing my anger past the anxiety and fear. “What the hell do you want, Jimmy?” I asked.

  “Thought you might like a reunion,” Jimmy said. “Good to know you remembered my name, asshole.”

  His smirk was new. I forced myself not to step back, away from him.

  The song ended, started again. Zack began singing along. He stood on my left side, looking bold despite the acne scars and balding head. He looked right at me, singing the words, not smiling. This was no joke.

  Revenge, I thought.

  Sure, but what would they do? They’d made their point. The damn boots and the fucking song on an endless loop.

  “All right,” I said with a huff. “You’ve had your fun. Now point the way outta here.”

  “You really think it’s gonna be that easy, fuckface?”

  I turned to look behind me. Josh’s voice had deepened. He was no longer the scrawny kid with the squeaky voice. He wasn’t tall but he sure as hell was muscular. Lots of time in the gym. Arms the size of tree trunks.

  I straightened, pushing my shoulders back, not giving up any ground. “What the fuck, guys? This is stupid.” I’d been going for menacing. Wanting to show confidence. The shake in my voice worried me.

  “Is it?” Alan said.

  I half-turned toward the voice. His narrow eyes offered no hint of reprieve. A jagged scar started on his bottom lip and disappeared under his shirt collar. I remembered the young boy he’d been. Rumors of his father’s alcoholism. Beatings. The bruises on his arms. The black eyes he’d explained away as accidents.

  They’d been two grades behind me. The four of them always huddled together. Easy targets with their bagged lunches and Salvation Army clothes. Staying close by the teachers, looking for protection. Hoping for safety in numbers.

  “Do you remember what you did, you stupid prick?” Jimmy asked. “The snowstorm.” He gestured toward the discarded boots. “A couple of us came to school wearing red boots.”

  His voice was deceptively soft. I did a slow turn, acknowledging him while keeping watch on the others. I felt trapped. The song played on, bringing with it the memories of that day. Fairies wearing boots. Scared boys grown into angry men.

  “Christ,” I said, feigning indifference. “That was twenty years ago. We were just stupid kids.”

  “You tormented us,” Josh said.

  “You had the whole damn school calling us fairies in boots,” Alan said. “Everywhere we went, kids sang that song. ’Til one day the singing stopped and they just called us fairies. We couldn’t go into a school bathroom without getting our asses kicked. All because of you.”

  Jimmy took a step closer. “You kept it going. Telling everyone we were fairies. Fairy boys. You’d cackle out on the playground, like our suffering was comic relief.”

  A shiver raised more goosebumps on my arms. I made myself stand still, pretending their words and the menace in their voices didn’t have me unnerved. “So it got a little out of hand,” I said. “School is done with. Jesus, get over it. You all look like you came out of it just fine.”

  “You don’t even notice he’s missing,” Zack said. “There used to be five of us. Remember?”

  Used to be. Dread worked its way up my spine, made my breath catch deep in my chest. I did remember. The redheaded kid who hung out with this bunch of losers. Buck teeth. Skinny. Cried in the middle of the playground that day he’d come to school wearing the red boots. I’d been singing the song, pointing at him. Fairies wear boots.

  “Billy,” I said.

  “Bobby,” Jimmy corrected. “His name was Bobby. Figures you wouldn’t remember his name.”

  “Everyone started calling him fairy boy,” Alan said. “They did it to all of us, but Bobby got it the worst. He couldn’t escape it. The label you stuck on him.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Save it,” Jimmy snapped.

  I clamped my mouth shut. The look in his eyes had me swallowing back a plea. For what? Understanding? Forgiveness? I didn’t know what the hell they wanted from me, but showing weakness had never been my style.

  Jimmy took another step toward me. I couldn’t stop myself from taking a step back. I saw it in his eyes then, that look of satisfaction. He knew he had me.

  “Bobby threw away the boots that day,” Jimmy said. “But it was already too late.”

  His voice was so soft that I had to strain to hear him. The song started again, a soundtrack to whatever was going on here.

  Jimmy continued speaking, holding my eyes with his, making sure I paid attention. “That following summer, we tried hard to escape the bullying. We stayed out of everyone’s way. Hid out at home. B
ut Bobby, he couldn’t do that. He had to walk to his grandmother’s house every day because his parents didn’t want him staying home alone. Every day, he’d cross through the park and the older kids would call him fairy boy. Every fucking day.”

  Another step closer and now I could smell the coffee on his breath. I was silently weighing the odds of fighting my way out of this. Sure, they’d hurt me. But I’d fuck up at least one of them before I went down. And, after it was over, I’d find them. One by one, I’d track them down. Motherfuckers.

  “Then one day,” Jimmy said, “Bobby was walking through the park, skirting the edges, hoping to stay out of the line of fire. But he didn’t make it. He was jumped. Dragged into the bushes. Raped by some high school kid who kept whispering fairy boy in his ear while he did his thing.”

  Fury bubbled up and spewed out of my mouth. “What the fuck? I didn’t rape the kid!”

  “No, you didn’t. But you may as well have.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  I moved to shove past Jimmy but suddenly felt hands on my shoulders and arms, holding me back, keeping me in place. I threw back an elbow, managed to knock Alan in the gut. But more hands grasped, fingers digging into my skin, hot breath on my neck.

  “He killed himself,” Jimmy said. “Bobby killed himself last week. Put a gun under his chin and blew his brains all over the wall. He never got over it. The rape. Your bullying. You destroyed him.”

  “I didn’t fucking rape him!” I shouted.

  “No, but you were the cause,” Jimmy said. “You thought it was all fun and games, calling us fairies in boots. The constant bullying. Big, tough guy picking on the younger kids. Boosting your own ego by tearing us down.”

  Jimmy stepped away, and for a moment I thought that was the end of it. They’d accomplished their goal. Scared me. Let me know they blamed me for that wuss of a kid growing into a wuss of a man, killing himself. Like any of that was my fault.

  But the hands holding me in place gripped harder. The breathing quickened. Alan leaned into my ear and murmured, “You need to know what it feels like to be helpless.”