Twice Bitten

by Diana Greenbird

  ‘When mom was still around, I guess I used to dress like those guys. Dad always wanted me and the twins to have the best clothes. When he became a single parent, he couldn’t afford it. We started shopping in thrift stores and I learnt how to re-hem dresses, embroider over fabric that had worn away too much. I never realised how fun it was. It started off as a necessity, but I like my style now. It’s unique. It was nice being part of a group, having a uniform that brought us all together despite our differences. But I think I like it more just being me.’

  ‘They really seem to like you,’ I said, probably repeating myself since I was a little in awe.

  ‘I told you: they’re not bad people. Emma’s friends… yeah, but the Cheer crowd aren’t so bad. You met Marcy, right? And Emma’s friends are only spiteful to remain on her good side.’

  Since she wasn’t biting my head off for asking questions, I let my curiosity get the better of me and continued my roll.

  ‘Why’d you leave – join the AA Team? They seem like they miss you,’ I said, remembering how genuine Marcy had sounded.

  ‘I didn’t want to divide people. You’ve seen what Emma’s like to you because you stand up to her, that’s what it would have been like for them. You can’t have a cheer team where half of them hate the other half.

  ‘Emma being as cruel as she was is partly down to her making sure I don’t come back. She wants to win. Like parents in a divorce settlement. She wanted the kids, the house, the money – everything. It was just easier to give it to her than think of all the other people she could hurt in the process. If she thought for a second Marcy and I were going to take over and leave her behind there would have been nothing she wouldn’t have done.

  ‘And, like, Martha’s not wrong. A lot of the popular crowd are homophobic. But what can you expect? They’re raised in today’s society.’

  ‘The AA Team really hate your old friends,’ I said.

  I wondered how that worked. She clearly still had a lot of good feelings towards the guys who had abandoned her when she came out – but was surrounded by new friends who hated them with a passion.

  ‘Jen and Martha… yeah. They’ve always been unpopular. I don’t mean it to sound like a cliché: that, like, obviously the unpopular kids hate the It crowd, but it goes both ways. Most of the cheerleaders hate Jen because they think she looks down on them for not being smart enough. They assume she thinks they’re bimbos.’

  ‘And Martha looks down on everyone,’ I added. ‘But aren’t the cheerleaders bimbos?’

  Gi gave me a pointed look and adjusted her glasses. ‘Cheerleading’s a sport. You’ve got to remain dedicated with good grades to be on the team.’ There was a wistful note to her voice.

  ‘You miss it – them, being part of the Cheer crowd.’

  ‘Yeah. I do. But I like being myself more. I like having friends who have my back no matter what comes along, whether I prefer to kiss a guy or a girl,’ Gi said. ‘All things happen for a reason, I guess.’

  Gi rubbed her arms as a particularly cold breeze started up around us. The sound of the party masked the crackle of the fire. I moved closer to her, and she wrapped part of her scarf around my shoulders so I could share some of her warmth. The red wool of the scarf was thick and cut off the breeze almost immediately. I smiled thank you, but didn’t say anything.

  We sat in silence for a while, her looking at the waves, me at the small patches of sky that could be seen between the moving clouds.

  ‘Are you a spiritual person, Liv?’ Gi asked me. Her voice was barely a whisper, but we were close enough that I could have heard her even if her words had been nothing more than a breath.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Like, I know you don’t believe in God – but do you believe that there’s something out there. Forces that work beyond our explanation.’

  ‘Like fate?’ I asked, wondering if she was on about the whole “things happen for a reason” thing she’d said.

  Gi shook her head. ‘I mean… sometimes, don’t you question it: humans being the only intelligent life in the whole world? Is that really all there is on this whole planet: one species that’s top of the food chain?’

  ‘Do you mean like aliens or something?’

  Gi shook her head. ‘No. It doesn’t matter.’ Gi checked her phone. ‘It’s getting late. I’m going to find Emerson to say bye. You want to come with?’

  ‘No, I’ll stay here awhile.’

  ‘Alright. See you tomorrow?’

  I nodded.

  I lay down on the blanket Gi had been using, Gi’s words running around in my head. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that Gi was on about the Blood World – that perhaps for all Emerson’s and my secret keeping, she’d somehow read between the lines and discovered the truth.

  But I knew that wasn’t the case. Normal people like Gi might have the odd ponderation from time to time, but it was their routine lives that kept them safe from the darker side of the world. Eventually, they shook themselves free from the silliness of believing that there might be something more to this world and went on with their normal, little lives. It was safer that way. Because if there was something more, then it meant that humans might not be the top predator they thought they were.

  17

  That night, as I got ready for bed, I took off my mom’s ring and placed it by the side of my bed. I never felt any energy coming from the ring, but it wouldn’t hurt to try something different. The ring, along with the senses, dreams, and crash had all happened around the same time when I came to this small town. I might as well attempt to narrow down some of the possibilities of what triggered the change in me.

  I closed my eyes, the buzz of the night fading into the background, and fell into a deep sleep. I didn’t dream of visions from the past or the little brown house. Instead, I dreamt of nothing at all.

  ‘Half the baseball team have hangovers,’ Emerson told me as I hopped in the car that morning. ‘They’re begging me for cures so they don’t get their arses handed to them in practice tonight.’

  ‘Regretting going along with the beach party on a school night, are they?’ I laughed, buckling myself in.

  ‘The football team had morning practice. I think they must be masochists.’

  I gave Emerson a look. ‘They literally play a sport where the object is to tackle anyone with the ball and the goal is to control that ball everyone will slam you for.’

  ‘How’d you sleep?’ Emerson asked, changing the subject. He was always touchy since I was fine talking about football but if he mentioned baseball for more than a second, I feigned snoring.

  ‘Good. I didn’t dream.’

  ‘No visions of me?’ Emerson asked with a cheeky grin, looking at me for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

  Emerson had tried normalising the witchy visions I’d been having by teasing me about them: that I couldn’t get enough of him, I had to spend every night fixated on his face as well. He didn’t even care when I tried to use what I’d found out about him against him; he’d dissociated from those memories, so it was like trying to tease someone with things another stranger had done.

  ‘Nothing at all. Might have something to do with what Charlotte said about my ring.’

  ‘Your ring?’ Emerson would have looked to my hands, but I had on my gloves so he couldn’t tell what I was on about.

  I forgot that he hadn’t been there for that part of the conversation at the party. He’d been busy with Gi and the rest of the popular gang. I explained, ‘my mom’s ring. The gold one. Charlotte said it had some weird energy and suggested I take it off and try and notice if there’s any difference to all the weird stuff that’s been happening.’

  ‘And no dreams,’ Emerson said in a “huh” voice. ‘She didn’t mention anything about your ring to me.’

  ‘It seemed like a recent thing she’d just thought of,’ I shrugged. ‘I’ll try not wearing it for another few nights and see if I have any vision-dreams. It could ju
st be a fluke. Is the dissociation still on pause?’ I asked.

  That had been one of the main things Charlotte had asked, possibly because if it wasn’t on pause then perhaps the ring was responsible for why Emerson could remain connected to his memories around me. It would mean that it didn’t have to be me – that Charlotte could wear the ring and Emerson could be connected to her. And if it was a magical object that was responsible, there was the possibility it could be replicated and both Charlotte and Emerson could have something that linked them to their memories and emotions.

  ‘Connected to you as always,’ Emerson grinned, pulling into the school lot. I’d already known that answer, though; I could feel the bond between us as strong as ever.

  ‘And what a curse that is,’ I said, grabbing my bag and getting out the car. I slammed the door closed.

  Emerson surprised me by whipping round the car and pinned me up against the passenger door. My gloved hands pushed against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

  ‘One kiss and I’ll let you go,’ Emerson smirked.

  ‘You’re insufferable, you horny teenager,’ I said, but there was a laugh in my voice rather than any true malice.

  ‘Just a peck, love,’ he said.

  ‘Didn’t you get enough of that yesterday?’

  ‘No. All you did was feed my appetite for it.’ He moved in an inch closer, but no further. ‘Please?’ he teased.

  ‘We’re at school.’

  ‘You didn’t mind making out in front of everyone yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday I suffered through it for the sake of being a girl at a party. It’s what drunk girls do: we kiss attractive guys we wouldn’t when sober.’

  ‘I’d almost believe you,’ Emerson mock whispered. ‘Except if that was you “suffering” yesterday, you’re as much of a masochist as anyone on the football team.’ Emerson kissed my cheek, quickly, then pulled away. ‘And you called me attractive.’

  ‘Prick,’ I muttered under my breath as we walked to homeroom.

  As soon as we pushed open the doors to the school, Emerson tensed beside me. His face took on the exact shade of anger he’d had in the stands before he’d grabbed the guys who’d pushed me down the stairs at his baseball game.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Before he could answer, Martha ran up to us.

  ‘You need to go home,’ Martha said, no wave hello or anything.

  She grabbed my arm. I was so shocked I let her – and I never let people touch me. She tried to pull me back out of the building, but I stood firm. I didn’t like being dragged anywhere, especially not when I had no idea why.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Martha let go of my arm, realising attempting to force me physical would be useless. We hadn’t moved from the entrance. We were blocking the way, but we were getting more looks from the people already in the school. They were staring and pointing. It was more than what I’d expected from people talking about seeing me and Emerson making out yesterday.

  A few kids tried to approach me; I could see that they were holding something in their hand.

  ‘Back off,’ Martha growled. ‘Emerson, seriously, you need to take her out of here.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I emphasised, refusing to budge.

  It clearly had something to do with what everyone was reading. One of the kids who walked by me held the same sheet everyone else had. I snatched it from the kid. I only caught the logo for the NRHS gazette before Martha grabbed it from me, screwing it up into a tight ball.

  ‘What the hell, Martha?’

  ‘Don’t read that,’ she said in a voice that she reserved for angry calls to cast members who missed rehearsals.

  ‘Fine. Well, I’m going to class. I don’t know what’s gotten into everyone, but I’ve got homeroom to get to,’ I said, as nonchalantly as possible. I figured I could grab the gazette on the way since no one from the AA Team was remotely even near my homeroom.

  ‘Emerson, seriously,’ Martha said. ‘Make her go home.’

  Emerson didn’t argue. ‘Liv, we should-’

  He’d not had an opportunity to read the papers everyone was holding, but I guessed from the way he’d tensed as soon as we entered the school, he was overhearing what was being said by those who had read it.

  Emerson made to grab my hand and pull me back, but I shrugged him off and walked down the corridor to drop my bag off at my locker.

  Kids plastered themselves to the lockers either side of me rather than let me pass close. As soon as I was out of their direct view, they’d whisper behind their hands and gesture to the gazette. Whatever they’d published was so obviously about me. I could only wonder at what ridiculous gossip Lawrence had published. Was a loner kid like me bagging a Son really that big news? Perhaps a Son getting into a “fight” over me with the football captain had been what classed as headline news in this type of cookie-cutter high school.

  It was only when I approached the row my locker was on that I realised that this had absolutely nothing to do with last night. At least not in a direct sense. I knew for certain this was happening today because last night at the party (Gi the centre of attention, Emma on the side-lines, me with the Sons) was the last straw for Emma. She’d done what she’d threatened to. She’d told the school about my past.

  The floor was littered with the front page from the gazette. I couldn’t see the text, not without picking up a copy from the floor – and I wasn’t going to bend to that level, literally – but I recognised the images from Christian’s court case. When I got to my actual locker, I realised Emma had spared no expense. She had made sure that I would read every word.

  Emma had pinned the article to my locker beneath the spray-painted words cock tease to make sure I didn’t miss it or the call back to the obvious warning she’d given me when she’d stolen and vandalised my car. Every awful thing that had happened, painted in the worst possible light, screamed at me in bold text. The comments I’d not scrolled through for months, from the old news articles, and the taunts I’d heard before getting into a thousand fights back when I was sixteen, was right there in front of me in black and white.

  My throat closed and I felt uncomfortably hot in all my layers. I frantically tried to unwind my scarf that was choking me.

  ‘Liv. You don’t need to stay here today. Gi already went to get the principal-’ Martha’s words were drowned out.

  I couldn’t look away from my locker. Were my senses heightening again, or was this just the panic? I could hear the whispers louder now. The same things that they’d said in the trial, those crowds outside the courtroom who had gathered because of the spectacle of the crime. Incestuous Bonnie and Clyde, some newspapers had run with.

  Lawrence had gone with the worst interpretation of the facts – but what could you expect when he’d had Emma to direct him. He’d not been able to stand up to her when she’d bitched at him the time he’d given me the school tour, he wouldn’t be able to now. Why print the truth when you could print the worst possible version of what had happened? If the facts were the same no matter what, it didn’t matter the narrative you told: I learnt that in the trial.

  My vision started to go splotchy. I’d dropped my scarf on the floor. Martha picked it up. God. I was going to throw up. I felt the acid rise to the back of my throat and choked it down.

  I was back in the trial. Back listening to the prosecution state fact after fact and paint a picture of what had gone on that night and the months prior. A twisted warped narrative that sounded so real to the jury.

  Tears burned through the blackness of my vision.

  The prosecution was asking me questions. But I couldn’t answer properly. Not when every question brought back that night.

  Christian. The pictures. My broken guitar.

  The sound of the corridor began to close in, the volume turned up. Laughs became piercing; whispers became the crash of a gale through a forest.

  I was in three places at once: at school with the corridor and the noise
and everyone whispering and the papers and Emma and the spray paint on my locker; in the trial with the jury looking at me and judging us and the prosecution demanding answers and the reporters with their voice recorders and their notebooks scribbling and Christian looking silently from the table right in front of the judge and the feel of the hard wood on my ass as I waited in the witness stand and the burn of the tears as I tried to speak through my panic and how I wanted to run away but I couldn’t because if I did then Christian would be lost forever; and back in Darren’s room that night, standing in the doorway holding myself together, my skin raw and bleeding in places, my hair soaking wet, barely dressed, whilst Christian-

  An ear-splitting whistle cut through the endless, consuming noise and the crush inside my head. It was louder than any whistle I’d heard before, almost like feedback from an amp at a gig.

  ‘Listen up!’ Emerson shouted. ‘I want every one of these papers thrown out. I don’t want to see a single sheet on campus.’

  Emerson’s words were a decree. I could see his glamour build, like he was infusing every word with a vampiric charm. Vampires couldn’t sway the minds of humans, not in the way films gave them the ability to hypnotise, but this was close.

  ‘And if I so much as hear a whisper-’ Emerson didn’t finish the threat. He left it hanging. Or perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps he’d said everything in detail, but hearing had ceased for me. There was just a crush like white noise in my ears.

  The look of fury he had matched the one he’d had when he’d told Emma she would regret trying to enact any threat against me or Gi. It was the closest he came to look like the vampire that he was. His eyes darkened to onyx.

  The kids still in the corridor picked up the loose sheets of the gazette littering the floor nearest to them and shoved them into the trash cans as they hurried away into their classrooms.

  The cold of the locker pressed against the back of my head. My nails dug through my gloves into the palm of my hand. The bile was still in the back of my throat, burning my oesophagus, but I knew I wasn’t going to throw up. At least not now.