by Sarah Lyu
The next morning, Lara would wake up, get dressed, and on the drive to work or school, the smell of tuna would hit her. She might roll down a window, maybe think it was something from outside when the stink didn’t dissipate. But it’d only stay, grow stronger, work its way through her entire ventilation system.
Elise called it a prank but it wasn’t, not really. What we did permanently ruined Lara’s car. But Elise didn’t care about the damage, the fallout, or what would happen after. And drunk off revenge and his newfound power, Evan didn’t care either.
At the end of the night, when Jack took me home on his motorcycle, he lingered after he dropped me off. “We shouldn’t have done that,” he said with a shake of his head.
“It’ll be okay,” I said. It was done and there was no undoing it, though I was uneasy too.
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I’ll be the first to tell you that Lara was a shitty person, but I’m not sure she deserved that. I’m not sure anyone deserves that.” He sighed. “I should’ve said something.”
“You did,” I told him. “Right before Evan poured the fish oil down the vents.”
“I should’ve stopped it. That’s what my grandpa would’ve done,” he said before sliding his helmet back on.
Elise said it wasn’t revenge, that this was about justice. But what we did that night wasn’t about righting a wrong. It was about payback. Maybe I didn’t have a right to complain—the very first prank we ever pulled was on my ex-boyfriend. And back then, it had seemed thrilling, had made me feel powerful when I was at my most powerless. Maybe it’s what Evan needed. Though I couldn’t help but think that when Elise was encouraging Evan to pour the oil down the vent, she wasn’t thinking about him at all.
Elise felt powerless, and in some ways, she’d always felt that way. The pranks, the Deadly Vipers, the “justice” she wanted to deliver—it was all just a means to wrest control when she had none.
It scared me, watching her. The pranks were escalating. At the beginning, it’d been setting off firecrackers outside someone’s dorm window, and now it was destroying someone’s car.
That night, as I lay in bed struggling to fall asleep, I just wanted to figure out a way to help Elise, to get her to put an end to the pranks. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if there was anything that would make her stop.
WEDNESDAY // MAY 10 // DAY 243
39.
Elise loved playing judge, jury, executioner. I watched from the sidelines as the Deadly Vipers—Elise, Julie, Madi, Jae, and now Evan—spent our lunch hours debating who their next target should be. I was technically a Viper, but I stopped giving any input for the most part.
There were times I didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. “Hey, how are you?” I’d asked, the first day back from spring break.
“What do you mean?” She gave me a weird look. “Things are fine,” she said. “I’m fine.” She hated being asked how she was, but every time I did, she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. It almost felt like she regretted telling me in the first place. She never brought it up again, refused to even acknowledge anything was wrong. But it was always there—this tension between us.
Things only got worse as the pranks took off. At first the targets ranged from teachers with a history of misconduct to the better-known bullies at school, like Ethan and George from math, the assholes who taunted weaker students for sport—at least when Elise wasn’t around.
The administration and school security investigated the Vipers’s spring break prank on Mr. Dawkins. But the investigation didn’t result in discovery, the exact opposite—Dawkins quietly resigned. What was once an open secret had been fully exposed through a single trashed classroom and Riverside had to take action. The school never contacted the police and seemed to end the investigation the moment he left. They probably didn’t want to draw even more attention to the matter.
Emboldened, Elise charged full speed ahead with her plans. There were more mice in bedrooms, tuna oil in the ventilation. They slashed tires, egged cars, filled balloons with vinegar and food coloring, then ambushed targets. She was always devising new ways to fuck with people. She wanted to push the limit, or maybe she wanted to find out if there was one, and she grew bolder and bolder each time they escaped capture. After Dawkins, the Vipers were always careful to take action off school grounds to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves.
I went to the first few missions but soon began making excuses every time they had another. The pranks had been thrilling at the beginning but they’d lost their appeal. On some level, I really did understand that Elise needed to take control, deliver her brand of justice, but it was also exhausting always raging against the world.
When I wasn’t with Elise, I was with Jack. As I started to spend more and more time with him, I had less time for her. We went on hikes with Lola, to the lake, for rides on his motorcycle, my arms wrapped around him tight. I told myself I was running toward him and not away from her, but maybe that was just a convenient lie.
“I don’t understand,” she complained to me after I skipped the third prank in a row. “You never had a problem before.” We were at my house after school, just the two of us like always. “What’s different?”
I shrugged. “I just don’t want to anymore.”
“It’s Jack, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No.” Though maybe it was, at least partly.
“He’s just trying to steal you away from me,” she concluded, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs by the pool.
I laughed, thinking it was a joke.
“I’m being serious! He was a competitive swimmer, wasn’t he? And now he can’t compete, so this is what he does instead.” Elise scoffed.
“That’s ridiculous.” I lit us two cigarettes and passed her one. It was four in the afternoon, and we had the whole place to ourselves. Mom and Dad were at work, and Christian was probably with his girlfriend.
“Then come back,” she said, tipping her sunglasses down to look at me.
“Finals are next week,” I protested.
“Fuck finals,” she said. “This is more important.”
I didn’t answer, snuffing out my cigarette and staring at the water. Finally I turned to her. “How are things?”
“How are things? Really, Rem?” she asked.
Ever since she showed me that bruise on her shoulder, she never brought up her father again.
“They’re fine,” she said. “God, I wish I’d never told you, honestly. It’s not a big deal. I can handle myself, stop asking!” She paused. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I would never do that.” It hurt to think she didn’t trust me. She wished she’d never confided in me, and now she thought I might’ve told someone when I promised I wouldn’t.
“Good.” Her eyes were so piercing that I almost flinched. “And don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you.”
In the days after the prank on Lara, Jack had told me, “It’s not about fairness. It’s just revenge. There’s already so much awful shit out there, why add more?”
I heard that even after Lara’s parents paid thousands of dollars to clean out the ventilation system in her car, the stink of tuna lingered. When Elise found out, she laughed.
It just seemed cruel.
“Come out with us tonight,” she said, lighting a second cigarette. “We’re getting Mr. V.”
“The principal?” I used to think Elise was an everyday heroine, a protector of the downtrodden. That she only ever wielded her power for good, sticking up for people who needed it. But what had Mr. Voss done?
“Yeah—”
Before she could launch into a speech about why we had to get mild-mannered Mr. Voss, I cut her off. “I already have plans,” I lied.
“With Jack?” she said. “I thought he worked Wednesday nights?”
I shrugged. “He swapped shifts.” It was so strange and awful, how easy it’d b
een to lie to her. We were best friends, soulmates. It was us against the world. Only, it was starting to feel different.
She examined me, taking a long drag and exhaling the smoke. Her expression was unreadable. “Fine, whatever,” she said. “But tell him to watch out. I won’t let him win so easily.” She meant it as a joke and I laughed, but it didn’t feel very funny. I used to love the idea of being fought over, being a prize, but now I wasn’t so sure.
SATURDAY // JUNE 17 // DAY 281
40.
They were arguing again, my parents. They were below, in the kitchen, and I was in my room upstairs, trapped again. My phone began to buzz but I ignored Elise’s call. Then she texted me.
Elise: Where are you
Elise: Pick up
Things between us were still tense enough that I didn’t feel as comfortable talking to her about this like I used to. Ever since Elise told me about her father, I’d felt like I couldn’t talk to her about my parents anymore. That even though she didn’t explicitly compare my parents to her father, it was always there, this distance between us. The things she said to me over six months ago on New Year’s Eve haunted me, about gradations, about how I was lucky.
I tossed my phone aside and shut myself in the closet again, but who was I kidding? I could still hear them. If I’d really wanted to shut them out, I’d wear headphones, turn the volume all the way up. But I didn’t know what I was afraid of more—the storm itself or not knowing what was happening.
“You’re lying, I know you’re lying!” Mom screamed, and I could hear angry tears in her voice. “Just admit it and stop playing games. Stop trying to make me feel crazy.”
“The only one who’s making you feel crazy is you,” Dad snapped.
“Bullshit. You always do this, gaslighting me,” she said. “But you can’t say I’m making it up this time. You can’t say I’m paranoid or I’m reading too much into things. This time I have the fucking receipts. Literally.”
“That’s it,” my dad said. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“Don’t run away from this!” she shouted after him, and for a breath or two, all I heard was the sound of two sets of footsteps, one chasing the other. “Can’t we just talk for once?”
“What’s there to talk about?” he said, lowering his voice. “You don’t believe a word I say. You just want me to stand here and let you scream at me all day. No thanks. I’m out of here and I’m not coming back.” Like so many of their fights, this one ended up here.
Throughout the years I felt at turns desperate and hopeful when my dad said he was leaving and never coming back, depending on how sure I was that he would take me with him.
With a deep breath, I waited for my mother’s laughter, the slam of the garage door, and the disappearance of my father. He’d be gone a few days at least, maybe a week. Though maybe this time he’d take me with him. I didn’t allow myself too much hope, having been down that road before, many times, but a tiny part of me wouldn’t completely give up on him just yet.
“I’m serious,” he said.
Mom laughed and I braced for impact. Here we go, I thought.
“Sure, whatever, go,” she said. “Have a nice little vacation. I’ll see you in a few days. Can you take the recycling on your way out?”
The silence was heavy and cold. I shivered, pulled a coat over me, and lay down on the closet floor.
“I’m serious,” he said again, his voice drained of anger. “I can’t do this anymore.”
I became very, very still.
“Don’t make me laugh,” Mom said with a scoff. “You’ll never leave me. You need me. You need to be married to me. You need a villain in your story. You like making other people fall in love with this tragic hero you so love to play.” She projected strength at the beginning of her short speech, but now her voice shook with anger. “What do you tell them? Do you say we’re only staying together for the kids? You must sound so noble, so self-sacrificing. You love it. You love having a villain in your story, you need it. What would you be without me? A lonely, pathetic middle-aged divorcé,” she finished, leaving the house in an eerie silence. No angry footsteps or slamming doors. I didn’t hear Dad leave. For the first time after one of their fights, I didn’t hear anything at all, and that was somehow scarier.
• • •
I met Jack at the lake just as the park emptied for the evening. “Come here,” he said when he saw me, folding me into a hug. “What happened?” I’d told him I needed to see him, but not why.
“My parents,” I said. “It’s nothing new, it’s—” I couldn’t finish.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He took my hand, leading me to one of the swinging benches that overlooked the entire reservoir. “It’s okay to be upset.” We swung slightly with the breeze and I leaned into his embrace, resting my head on his shoulder. “Just tell me what happened.”
“My parents—I think my dad might really be leaving this time.” I told him some of the things my mom had said, how she’d laughed at him. They had a pattern, but this time they broke it.
“Jesus.” Jack ran his free hand through his hair in shock.
“It seems worse this time, but then again it feels worse every time. I don’t know why I even care anymore.”
“Of course you care.” He pulled me closer, kissed the top of my head softly.
“I wish I were stronger. Like Elise.” She almost never cried. She always seemed to know what to do. She was made of steel, unbreakable.
“You’re wrong,” Jack said. “You are strong.”
“No,” I began to protest.
“Let me finish.”
“Okay.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you just yet, but I went to the pool for the first time last week in almost a year, and that was because of you,” he said, pulling away to look at me. “I was in such a dark place when we met, but you inspired me, Remy.”
Wow. No one had ever said something like that to me before. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. But I’ve been back a few times since. And it was because of you.” He sat back to face me, one leg crossed. “I still have bad days, but I’m having good ones too. Ones where I can remember all the good memories of my grandpa and smile.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d always felt like the one who needed someone to swoop into my life and save me. Powerless, weak. But being with Jack felt like the opposite.
For a moment, the whole world seemed to spin around us, and we were the center of the universe, just the two of us. He touched a hand to my cheek, thumb smooth against my skin, and I leaned into him, into that feeling.
“Elise seems like this strong person, but just because she can hurt people doesn’t make her strong. If anything, it makes her weak, always lashing out, always needing to prove how strong she is. And I know it seems like doing nothing is like admitting weakness, but it’s not. My grandpa used to say survival is a talent. You’re still here, you’ve survived so far, and you’ll survive this too, and whatever else comes your way.” He lifted my chin, cupped my face. And when we kissed, the breeze picked up and it felt like we were flying.
• • •
The house was silent when I came back, no one in the kitchen or living room, the office dark. But both cars were still in the garage, so I treaded lightly.
In the shower, I smiled, my eyes closed at the memory of us alone in the park, of us kissing on the bench, the feeling of his body beneath mine, of us in the water with no clothes on, nothing between us.
That night, I decided to move downstairs into the basement. I didn’t want to be trapped in my room anymore. I took my pillow and my charger, planning to sleep on the sectional and go back for the rest of my things later.
But I wasn’t alone down there. I saw him after I turned out the lights, in the backyard by the pool on one of the loungers, staring blankly at the water—my dad.
Surprised he was still here and buoyed by my talk with Jack, I wrapped a
blanket around myself and walked over to him, sitting down in the chair beside his.
“Remy, hi,” he said, looking up.
We both turned back to the water, peaceful and still.
“Why don’t you just leave?” I asked, not looking at him. “Really leave.” It wasn’t exactly a question the way I said it. I’d been scared of the answer for as long as I could remember, but I didn’t care what it was anymore, as long as there was one.
Dad didn’t answer right away and I wondered if he’d heard me, but he finally sighed, acknowledging what I said.
“I . . . I don’t know,” he said.
“You and Mom don’t love each other,” I said, and it was the truth. “Maybe you guys did once, but whatever you have now isn’t love.” Another statement he didn’t contest. “You always say you’re going to leave her, but you always come back. Do you even mean it anymore?” There was no accusation in my voice, only sadness.
I thought Dad and I were the outsiders, that together we formed the resistance to Mom’s tyranny, but now I wasn’t so sure. I thought we were on the same side, looking out for each other, but maybe no one was ever looking out for me, and I was angry.
“Do you know what it’s like watching the two of you destroy each other over and over and over again? What it’s been like all these years? You’re both miserable and you make everyone around you miserable.” I took a deep breath. “What you and Mom have isn’t love. It’s just misery.”
His silence was heavy, oppressive.
“Did you ever love each other?” I asked. I wanted to believe that love was real, that maybe before Christian and me they had starred in their own love story. That maybe once upon a time, things were good.
“I don’t know,” he said, unable to face me. He stared at the ground, hanging his head.
“Then why’d you get married?” I wasn’t angry anymore, I just wanted to know.
“I guess I thought it’d make me happy, make us happy.”
“Were you? Happy?”
“I think so. For a while at least.” He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.