“What the hell are you doing?” Stefani asked when Manisha plinked a token into the turnstile.
“Entering the subway system,” Manisha explained, over-emphasizing every motion and word as though she were making an infomercial. “Would you like written instructions? Oh, no, I forgot—you’re too lazy to read. I will explain how it’s done: you insert the token into the slot, you step through the turnstile, and ta-da! You’re in!”
“Oh, dude!” Jewel half-whispered, clinging to Stefani’s jacket. “She is mad at you!”
A group of rowdy guys rumbled down the station stairs, and Stefani stepped aside until they’d all gone through. When they were out of earshot, she said to Manisha, “Sounds like you’ve been reading The Sucker’s Guide to Riding the Subway.”
“I think maybe she even wrote it,” Jewel added.
“Where I come from, if there’s no collector, you don’t pay a fare.” Planting a palm on either side of the turnstile, Stefani let the sturdy dividers bear her weight. She shifted back, rocking in preparation.
Manisha stepped into her field of vision, but Stefani looked away. “This is why fares are always going up—because of people like you.”
“Get out of the way,” Stefani growled as she worked up her momentum.
“Hurry up,” Jewel hissed. “They’re gonna get us on camera.”
“Shit.” She’d forgotten about the cameras, not that the transit police would ever go to the trouble of tracking down turnstile-jumpers. Even so, Stefani’s heart raced a little faster as she swung her legs up and over the metal bars. She’d worn a pair of Jewel’s shoes, and even though her sister was younger, the heels were too big. They flew up in the air, one and then the other, nearly smacking Manisha in the face.
Manisha pursed her lips so hard they turned white.
“Coming through!” Jewel called as Stefani collected her shoes. Even in heels and an ankle-length coat, Jewel took a running start and hopped to the side like a pole-vaulter.
“Nice form,” Stefani applauded.
Jewel gave a bashful curtsey. “Shall we proceed to the Chickadee?”
“With pleasure!” Stefani hooked her arm around Jewel’s while Manisha trudged ahead. Under her breath, she giggled, “You’re right—she’s really mad!”
When they arrived at the Chickadee, it was even hotter than hell. Not only was the air thick as lust, but the place was packed with women. Butches wore ties, bois wore suspenders, femmes wore party dresses with flouncing crinolines, and everybody in between wore whatever they felt like.
The big chickadee at the door hadn’t asked to see Jewel’s ID, and that made Stefani feel like they’d smuggled her in. With a stronghold on Stefani’s arm, she gazed around the dance floor, eyes wide, like she’d never seen anything like it. Manisha had magically found them a table, and as Stefani escorted her little sister toward it, she felt like she was pulling Bambi across a patch of ice.
“What’s wrong?” Stefani shouted over the music.
“Nothing.” Putting on a fake smile, Jewel climbed up onto one of the white chairs with high chrome legs. “Can you get me a daiquiri?”
“And I’ll have a G&T,” Manisha called, taking the seat next to Jewel. There were only the two chairs at their table.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Stefani said under her breath.
It wasn’t until she’d turned toward the dance floor that she realized the source of Jewel’s apprehension: eyes like wolves’, hungry mouths, lustful gazes planted on the new blood, like they could smell the freshness on her skin. A chill ran through her bones and she shivered despite the sultry haze in the air.
“Hey, sugar. Wanna dance?”
Stefani stared absently at the stocky dyke who’d barked the question. All she could think to say was, “Sugar?”
That was a major pet peeve of hers—strangers using terms of endearment. Stefani glanced back and met Jewel’s gaze quite by accident, then looked quickly away. She was embarrassed of something, but she didn’t know what. Maybe Manisha was right—Jewel was too young to be around all these cocky women. Some dykes didn’t take no for an answer.
“Okay, I’ll dance,” Stefani said. She didn’t want to—her little purse was starting to feel really heavy against her shoulder—but better her than Jewel.
Stefani’s stocky dance partner grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close, so her bare belly jammed up against the woman’s sweater vest. She could only hope her belly ring wouldn’t get tangled in the wool. And why were they slow dancing to a club track?
“So, what’s your sign?” Sweater Vest shouted over the music.
“Don’t you mean, what’s your name?”
“No sense trying to remember your name if we’re not compatible,” the woman said. Her hair was slicked back and her eyes gleamed with a scary sort of lust. “But something tells me we’ll get on fine—at least in the sack. What do you think, sugar?”
Sweater Vest’s hands slid down Stefani’s hips, circling around her butt and squeezing so hard Stefani shrieked. If only she’d had a drink in her hand to throw in this chick’s face.
“Hey, what the hell?” Stefani pulled away, hoping to god Jewel hadn’t seen any of that.
“What’s her problem, huh?” Sweater Vest asked other dancers, who were obviously trying not to make eye contact. “Crazy bitch.”
Stefani pushed through crowd. Tears welled in her eyes as her purse slipped down her arm. She hiked it up, but it felt like she was hauling the Mint around on her shoulder. Her feet were already hurting, too. Why’d she have to wear Jewel’s giant heels instead of sensible flats? People did stupid things on New Year’s Eve.
“Sorry about that,” someone shouted over the music. “What a jerk.”
Stefani looked around until her gaze landed on a familiar face. “Carla! Oh my god, what are you doing here?”
The girl in black bowed her head slightly and her full cheeks shone crimson. “Just… I don’t know… celebrating New Year’s?”
“Well, you look great.”
“Thanks. You too, obviously.” Carla pulled at her oversized top. She still dressed exactly the way she had in high school—black tights and top, a playful scarf around her neck. Her raven hair used to be long, but now it was short. That was really the only difference.
“You wanna dance?” Carla asked as the music turned slow and throbbing.
A pang of guilt shot through Stefani’s heart. Carla obviously didn’t know all the terrible things Stefani had said behind her back in high school. Maybe, while all the A-list bitches were calling Carla a dirty Indian to her face, Carla thought of Stefani as a friendly, if silent, force. How wrong she was.
“I’m supposed to get drinks for my friend and my sister,” Stefani said. She wanted to dance with Carla—a lot. Whatever she’d done or said in high school, the girl had always done it for her—quirky smile, sweet baby cheeks—but in high school Stefani wouldn’t have dared. She wasn’t brave enough to hit on someone as wretchedly unpopular as Carla.
“Let me get the drinks,” Carla said, smiling so sweetly Stefani’s heart bled. God, she needed to get some alcohol into her system—and fast!
By the time they’d manoeuvered to the bar, Stefani’s purse weighed so heavy on her shoulder she was sure she’d have a bruise there the next day. When she hiked it up and took hold of the zipper, Carla’s fingers landed soft against hers. “My treat!”
“Are you sure?” Stefani hollered back. She thought she must have heard wrong, but she’d never been one to pass up a free drink. When Carla nodded, she said, “Thanks!”
Stefani grabbed her beer and took a long pull, leading Carla toward Manisha and Jewel’s table. Carla carried the G&T and the daiquiri. She hadn’t bought herself anything at all.
“Took you long enough,” Manisha said, and then noticed Carla. “Oh. Thank you…?”
Carla tugged at the hem of her shirt. “No problem.”
It was too loud for introductions, so Stefani let Jewel, Carla, and Manisha
stare awkwardly at one another. When she’d guzzled her beer and stifled a burp, Stefani slapped her purse down on the table along with her empty bottle. “Watch my stuff, okay?” she asked Jewel.
Manisha cleared her throat, but Stefani didn’t look her way.
“Come on,” Stefani said, grabbing Carla by the arm. “Let’s dance for a while.”
As they shuffled into the crowd, Manisha growled something about babysitting—she didn’t sign up to spend her New Year’s Eve babysitting—that sort of thing. But before they were out of earshot, Jewel’s pitchy voice rang through the club: “Steffi! Where did all these tokens come from?”
Stefani whipped around to find Jewel staring into her open purse.
“Hey, get out of there!” Stefani cried, before it even occurred to her that she only had a couple tokens and they were both in her wallet.
“Stefani!” Manisha growled. “How could you jump the turnstile when you had all these tokens on you?”
Manisha pushed her purse down on the table and subway tokens spilled out in a continuing cascade. It looked like a mouth with sharp metallic teeth. Tokens rolled off the white lacquered table and tumbled to the floor, spinning like little tops around the club.
“Wow,” Carla said as a seemingly infinite stream of tokens surged from Stefani’s purse. “Maybe you should buy a Metropass.”
Women were taking notice now, some scrambling to pick up handfuls, others subtly bending down to pick up one or two and slide them into their pockets.
“Those aren’t mine,” Stefani said, though too softly to be heard over the music. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but it was starting to freak her out a little bit.
The drizzle of tokens from her purse dwindled to nothing, and Stefani felt like she was in a dream. Maybe it was the beer? No, she’d only had one. This was just too weird.
A few of the women milling around placed tokens back in her purse or on the lacquered table, but mostly everyone kept them. Stefani might have been mad if they’d actually belonged to her…
“Where did you get so many tokens?” Carla asked, her breath hot on Stefani’s ear.
Stefani shook her head. “My friend must be playing a trick on me. She was really mad that I jumped the turnstile.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “Expensive trick.”
“Yeah…” Stefani felt a queasy wringing in the pit of her stomach.
“Do you want another beer?” Carla asked, eager as a puppy.
“Sure.” Stefani tried to smile, but she was too perplexed.
The beer helped her forget. So did the music. She writhed against Carla’s big body, dancing close, getting hot and sweaty. While other women traded partners, Stefani stayed close to Carla. In exchange for the keen attention, Carla plied her with alcohol. She bumped into other dancing couples, giggling as her butt bounced against theirs. In a haze, she spilled beer on Carla’s scarf and laughed despite Carla’s obvious dismay. Nothing mattered, not when she had a little alcohol in her system.
When she’d drained the dregs of yet another beer, Stefani handed the bottle to Carla. “Get me one more?”
Carla stood and stared, but not at Stefani. Over her shoulder. Carla’s golden skin had gone white as a sheet. “Is that… Is that…?”
Stefani swirled around, her brain swimming inside her head as her gaze locked on white lacquer. The lights overhead gleamed off the tabletop, sending jets of pain into her skull. Leaning back against Carla, she blocked the harsh light with her hand.
“Oh my god…” Stefani’s mind buzzed. “Oh god…”
“Is that your sister and your friend?” Carla asked. “Kissing?”
“She’s fifteen years old,” Stefani said, staring at her best friend lip-locked with precocious Jewel. Her stomach flipped, and she swivelled to face Carla. “She’s only fifteen!”
The rumble in Stefani’s stomach turned into an earthquake, and she grasped her belly. Something wasn’t right, and it was more than just too much beer. The image of Manisha and Jewel was branded on her brain, and it sizzled, excruciating, like acid on film. She heaved, and Carla dropped her empty bottle to sweep her long hair behind her shoulders.
Something wasn’t right here. Not at all. There was a weighty sensation in the pit of Stefani’s stomach. When she heaved again, that weight surged up into her throat, rattling like coins inside her esophagus. He mouth filled with something hard and metallic wading in the foam and fizz of beer and stomach acid.
Stefani clenched her watering eyes shut and opened her mouth. Her throat burned as another heave brought pain and substance surging through her lips. It clattered at the feet of other dancers. Stefani didn’t realize she was crying until she got a look at her vomit through bleary eyes.
“Is that…?” Carla seemed lost for words as she held back Stefani’s hair. “Are those…?”
When Stefani blinked past her tears, she saw them clearly. “Tokens?” she choked out, just as her stomach heaved again. She was regurgitating something she’d never eaten, and the pain shook her right to the bones. Her knees rattled and Carla held her upright as she vomited another round of subway tokens. They hurt like hell as they rose up her throat, and she choked on the ones that didn’t make it all the way out.
She hadn’t realized the attention she’d drawn. When she looked around, it seemed like every woman in the place was pointing and laughing. Their voices were muffled by her desperate sobs, but she was sure she could hear them saying things like, “Eww, she’s puking!” and, “Look! She eats subway tokens! What a freak.”
Stefani’s throat blazed. Her legs started trembling and the club alternated between blank, black, and blinding light. She could feel Carla’s chest pressing into her back, and she struggled to turn around, to see if that devastating vision of her sister and her best friend was in fact a reality. But the blackness took over before she got a look.
When Stefani opened her eyes, the world was too real. Every line sharpened, every colour exploded, every note in that blaring music rang crystal clear. She was lying in a pool of beer and subway tokens. Damp acid pervaded, soaking her clothes.
Sitting up so straight it hurt, Stefani asked, “Where are they?”
“You fainted,” Carla said. There were subway tokens stuck to the sleeve of her shirt. “Are you okay? Should we call an ambulance?”
Stefani whipped around. Every muscle in her body felt sprightly and energized. “Where’s my sister?”
“I…I don’t know.” Carla followed as Stefani sprang up from the dance floor, pacing the club like a mother bear.
She’d never felt so protective in all her life. Launching herself across the room, she looked around, eagle-eyed, seeing everything. Everything but them.
“Where are you going?” Carla asked. “I’ll come with you.”
Stefani didn’t respond. In truth, she barely heard Carla past the pounding of her heart. She felt more animal than human. Every scent on the air came to her more sharply, and she knew, just knew, that Jewel and Manisha were gone.
“Wait up!” Carla called, following Stefani out into the street. “Don’t you want your coat? It’s freezing out here!”
Stefani didn’t feel the cold. “I know where they went.”
The snow had stopped falling, and sat like a heavy blanket across the city. The well-trafficked sidewalk was slushy already. Wet snow sloshed up inside Stefani’s pants as she ran toward the subway station. Her feet felt heavy as sin, and something was definitely poking into her heels, pressing hard against her toes. She tried to ignore the weight, ignore whatever was attacking her feet, but it impeded her movement far too much.
Stefani kicked off Jewel’s heels and the shoes went flying, trailing glinting metallic shards as they soared through the air. Tokens, tokens everywhere! For a moment, Stefani stood in her black socks in the slush and simply watched them fall. It was the strangest sight, but she wasn’t surprised, or even fazed. Not in the slightest.
When her sister’s shoes hit the sodden side
walk, Stefani watched the tokens pool in slush, glinting against the harsh glare of streetlights and illuminated billboards. Shoes and subway tokens drowning in slush. She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed with a strange sort of sadness.
“What happened?” Carla asked, breathing hard as she caught up. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
Stefani turned absently, gazing up at Carla’s moon face. Such warmth and concern there—nothing Stefani deserved.
“I said things behind your back, you know.” Why was Stefani saying this? Why couldn’t she let Carla believe that one person had been on her side back then?
“No, you didn’t.” Carla’s whole body shook, and she gripped herself, hugging around her belly. Nothing seemed to help. “You always smiled at me. You were nice.”
“No, not nice.” Stefani stared poor Carla plain in the face. “I said all the same things everyone else said. I called you fat Indian, stupid bitch, ugly savage. I said all that when you weren’t around.”
Tears glistened in Carla’s eyes before streaming down her cheeks. Her voice was little more than a whisper when she said, “No.”
“Yes.” Stefani’s socks were soaked through, and her feet felt like they were blue. “In grade ten, you thought it was all them, all those people, that made you swallow a bottle of pills. Well, it wasn’t just them. It was me too. You can’t like me, Carla. I almost killed you.”
“But…” Carla swept tears from her cheeks. Her desperation was palpable. “But I didn’t die. I’m here. I don’t want to die, Stef. I want you.”
Stefani’s heart was a brick in her chest. “No!” she barked, and before she knew it her frozen feet were carrying her through the slush at puma speed. When she reached the subway steps, she turned around. Carla was a black dot on a backdrop of white.
In her wet socks, Stefani ran down the concrete stairs. The station was empty, which struck her as strange until she caught sight of the time on the big red machine that dispensed subway transfers: 11:56. So close to midnight she could almost taste it. No wonder nobody was in the subway. Everyone had already arrived where they wanted to be—with friends, family, or with someone to kiss when the clock struck midnight.
Year's End: 14 Tales of Holiday Horror Page 14