by Vera Hollins
Eli let out a small giggle, while Barbie rolled his eyes and muttered, “Freak.”
“Do you want to play?” Eli asked me, his expression hopeful.
I nodded vigorously. “Of course! Get ready for the queen of the racetrack!”
“More like the queen of bullshit,” Barbie muttered as he stood to drop the controller on the TV stand and stretch the kinks out of his back. His red tank top rode up his waist, exposing his ripped abs, and I sneered. I wished he didn’t have those muscles. He deserved to look ugly and unattractive, not like this.
I gave him my most vicious stare. “Like knows like.”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “At least I’m not ugly like you.”
“She’s not ugly,” Eli said, looking between us with confusion, and my chest seriously melted a little.
Barbie stared open-mouthed at him. “Not ugly? Look at her.” He pointed his probably stinky and greasy finger at me. “Look at that creepy face. She’s wearing more makeup than that clown in It. And is that a giant pimple on her cheek?” He let out an annoying chuckle. “She plastered tons of concealer on it, and now it looks like it’s going to explode. Disgusting.”
I clenched my fists so damn hard, doing everything possible to keep myself planted in my seat so I wouldn’t pounce on him to tear out every single strand of his hair. Eli’s face fell, and I didn’t need Einstein’s IQ to conclude he was upset I was fighting with his brother. Not good. If I wanted my plan to work and make Barbie pay, I couldn’t do it openly, in front of Eli. I had to do it in some other, covert way.
“Why don’t you waltz on out of here?” I suggested. “Eli and I will be fine on our own.”
Barbie sat back down in the beanbag chair and took out his phone, giving me a narrowed look. I got the message. He didn’t trust me with his brother. What did he think I would do? Strangle Eli with the controller cable? Asshole.
Gritting my teeth, I took antibacterial wipes out of my backpack and started wiping the controller Barbie had used. Eli stared at me, dumbfounded.
“What are you doing?” Barbie hissed.
I smiled sweetly at him. “I’m sanitizing it because I can only imagine all the germs you left on it.”
He looked at Eli. “You see what I told you? She’s mental.”
I clutched the controller in my hand. I hated that he’d talked about me to Eli. Who knew what kind of lies he’d spat out?
“Don’t listen to him, General Fabulous. He’s just jealous because we’re awesome and he’s not. Just a little more effort, and he’ll die of jealousy.” I grinned. “Now, are you ready to lose?”
He didn’t smile, but at least he wasn’t as upset anymore. “Are you?”
I chuckled. “Savage. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I spent the first few minutes choosing my car, until I settled on the Porsche 911 Carrera S because it was Steven’s most favorite car after Audi TT. I expected Barbie to breathe down my neck and ruin my fun, but he didn’t move his gaze off his phone, not even paying attention to us as he texted someone. Good.
Eli and I didn’t talk much as we played, both focused on the race, and with each sharp turn and tricky maneuver my excitement went higher.
Eli was good. He pressed his hands in various angles on the controller on his lap, reacting faster than me, and I almost lost the race. I managed to pass him only two seconds before the end, my heart beating a mile a minute.
“Yes!” I raised my fist in the air.
Eli observed me with awe. “You’re good.”
“Just like you. You almost beat me!”
He shrugged, his cheeks two blotches of red. “Thanks.”
I glanced at Barbie, ready for his insult, but his gaze was fixed on his phone. His lack of reaction was strange, but I’d take it over him being an asshole any day.
“Do you want to go again?” I asked Eli.
“Sure.”
We started another race, and I began cracking jokes, resuming Mission Make Eli Smile. Just like on Thursday, I could detect the sadness that filtered deep within him, and I needed to see him smile. Maybe, with a little effort, he would be able to pull out of whatever made him so miserable and liven up a bit.
This time, I could feel Barbie’s gaze on me more often than not, especially whenever I said something that made Eli laugh, and it ruffled my feathers. I didn’t know if that was a tactic to throw me off balance or if he was one of those brainless people who could gawk at someone for hours for no reason, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it bothered me.
My bladder grew too full by the time we finished the race, which I lost, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I stood up to go to the bathroom. “Sorry, General Fabulous, but nature calls.”
He chuckled. “The bathroom is the second door on the left.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back,” I said in the Terminator’s voice once again and left the room, more than aware of Barbie sizing me up. I wanted to flip him off so badly, but Eli was looking at me, so I had to save it for some other time.
I was halfway down the hall when Barbie stepped in front of me. I placed my hand on my hip. “What are you doing? Wanna watch me while I pee?”
His gaze was full of ice. “I want you to stop coming to my house.”
I snorted. “And I want a cure for stupidity, but guess what? It will never be found!”
He closed the distance between us, stopping inches too close, and a wave of dread crashed over me. I pushed against his shoulders, but it didn’t work. “Stay away from me,” I hissed.
“Stay away from my brother,” he replied and took another challenging step. I had to back away from him, too uncomfortable with his invasion of my personal space. He didn’t stop until he’d backed me against the wall, confining me in more ways than he would ever know.
I balled my hands. “I don’t know what bullshit this is, but if you don’t fuck off, I’m going to punch your teeth out.”
His eyes flicked to my fists before he placed his hand against the wall to the left of my head. A taunting smirk played across his lips as he leaned in, his distinctive scent overpowering me. He was too close!
“Why are you so nervous, Satan?”
“I’m not sticking around for your stupid games,” I gritted out through my teeth and slammed my hands against his chest, shoving him away so I could go to the bathroom.
Too quickly for me to counter, he grabbed me and pressed me back against the wall. Panic enveloped my every single pore, my pulse going through the roof. For a moment, all I saw, felt, and smelled was him.
In a frenzy, I tried to knee Barbie, but he blocked it too easily, pressing his thigh between mine as he leaned into me. The feeling of helplessness wrapped around my throat like a rope, preventing me from breathing normally. He could sense my weakness, and he fed on it, his smirk growing even bigger.
“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get you off my back all this time, but you never knew when to give up. So maybe it’s high time I take another approach. What is it you want? This?”
He grabbed his dick through his jeans and thrust his hips in my direction, almost brushing himself against me, and the nausea almost overcame me. He held me with only his right hand now, and I didn’t waste the opportunity, blind with fury and memories. I struck his right wrist and twisted to the side the moment he released me.
“Stay away from me, motherfucker!” I backed away. I felt dirty all over. “You’re disgusting!”
His frown grew deeper as he took me in, but then his punishing smirk returned. “No more than you. But, hey, maybe you’re just that kinky, pretending you hate me, when, in fact, you want me to fuck you six ways to Sunday.”
My head started ringing, heavy with pressure that threatened to give me a headache. I wanted to pummel his face, to turn it into a horrifying mash of blood and bruises that could never be fixed. I wanted him to hurt until he went insane from the pain.
My steps were laden as
they took me back to where he stood. I stopped in front of him and spat directly in his face. “I would rather die than fuck you.” My voice was trembling, unrecognizable. “You hear me? I would rather die.”
He stood frozen, his eyes widening as if he’d finally seen the extent of my fear and revulsion, and his smirk vanished. I was on guard, ready to knock him out if he tried anything again, but he didn’t move a muscle as he stared back at me, not even to wipe my spit off his face. My hatred for him burned inside me, bringing back to the surface all my destructive emotions, and I wanted to unleash every single one of them on him.
“Mace, what are you doing?” Eli asked, and I flinched. He’d stopped a short distance from us, and I hadn’t even heard him coming.
I stepped away from Barbie and schooled my features. If I kept on this way, I’d just be giving him more material to use against me in the future, and he’d already seen more than enough.
I narrowed my eyes at Barbie and smiled viciously. “And no, I won’t stop coming here. In fact, after this, I’ll be coming even more often! Just to irritate the shit out of you, if nothing else.”
Without giving him the opportunity to answer, I marched into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. Nausea rolled through my stomach in waves. I had to take deep breaths so I wouldn’t puke, fighting against the urge to scrub imaginary dirt off my whole body.
He will pay. He will pay. He will pay. For touching me. For everything. I swear, he will pay.
“Why don’t you like her?” Eli asked him, and I stilled. He’d said it in a hushed whisper, but they were too close to the door, so I could hear them.
“Because she’s a ticking time bomb.”
I frowned, my chest clenching.
“What do you mean by that?” Eli asked him.
“Has she hurt you?”
“What? No,” Eli exclaimed fiercely.
“Has she ever insulted you? Harassed you in any way?”
I fisted my hands. Their voices were too quiet now, and I had to strain my ears to hear them.
“No. Why would she?”
“Because that’s what she does. She can be really nasty when she doesn’t like someone, and for some reason, I’m at the top of her shit list. You’re an easy target, so if she ever hurts you in any way, tell me right away. Okay?”
“She won’t do that, Mace. She’s a nice person.”
“Promise me, Eli. I don’t trust that psycho one percent.”
The silence was too loud in my ears as I waited for Eli to answer. I plastered my ear against the door so I could hear him. “Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll tell you.”
“Good. I’ve got your back. I’ll always have your back, if it’s the last thing I do.”
I waited for the rest of their conversation, but it never came, which must mean they had left. I exhaled a long breath and went to the sink, staring at my pale face in the mirror. I almost didn’t recognize myself, seeing the old version of me with wide, horror-stricken eyes, trembling lips, and the deep lines of pain forever engraved on my skin. I braced myself against the wall and willed myself to take even breaths.
My mind wanted to take me back to that time, to torture me over and over again, to make me feel small and insignificant with absolutely no control, but I wasn’t that same girl. I had control now.
I have control. I have control. I have control.
I sprinkled water on my face to cool myself off, making sure not to ruin my makeup. When I’d composed myself, I peed, washed my hands, and left the bathroom, ready to face anything and anyone.
Barbie had just witnessed one of my worst moments, but fear not! I’d get back at him for that.
If Barbie’s display of brotherly love wasn’t just an act, Eli was probably his greatest weakness. He didn’t trust me with his brother, and I could exploit that distrust. It would be fun to have him on edge. Let him think I could hurt Eli at any moment. Let him act like a mother hen protecting her baby chicks.
I fixed another fake smile on my face and returned to Eli’s room, but Eli was alone next to his desk, so I could drop my guard somewhat.
“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at his lap. “That wasn’t nice of him.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t, but he was never nice to begin with. You don’t have to apologize on Barbie’s behalf.”
“Still . . .” He sighed.
“Hey, General Fabulous.” I gave him my brightest grin. “It’s really okay. I’ve already forgotten it. It’s not like even one iota important.”
He looked at his hands. He wasn’t buying it. “I didn’t know you two knew each other from school. I don’t know what’s going on, but I swear he’s not bad.”
I wanted to shout that he was wrong. I wanted to say Barbie was worse than the world’s worst tyrant and should be locked in a chamber filled with his own smelliest farts so he could suffocate slowly and very painfully. I would even write a cautionary tale and call it Masen Brown and the Chamber of Farts.
But I also knew when I was fighting a losing battle. Eli was as loyal to Barbie as Barbie was, apparently, loyal to him.
“Why do you call him Barbie?”
Because he’s blond and stupid. “Because . . . because he reminds me of Barbie. Blond hair, blue eyes, you know.”
His forehead creased. “Why not Ken, then?”
Because Barbie irritates me way more than Ken. But I didn’t say that. I just shrugged.
“Anyway, he left, so you don’t have to worry about him,” he said.
“Left?”
“Yeah. He took his car keys and drove off.”
Good. I hope he ends up in the closest ditch and gets stuck there forever.
I beamed at him. “Great! Now that we’re alone, we can take our awesomeness to the next level!”
I sat down and reached for the controller, but then I spotted Barbie’s phone, which he’d left forgotten on the beanbag chair. I glanced at Eli, but it seemed as though he hadn’t even noticed it there.
I grinned like the Joker.
Hehe. This was like a sign from the mighty universe.
Revenge would be so, so sweet.
We didn’t mention Barbie anymore. We played more races, talked, and laughed, and when it was time for me to leave, I snatched Barbie’s phone while Eli wasn’t looking and stuffed it into my backpack, making sure it was on silent mode. I saluted Eli and left, smiling as if I’d just gained exclusive access to the CIA’s secret files.
Because unless his phone was protected by a super unbreakable password, the possibilities were unlimited.
This day had just gotten much, much better.
The universe was on my side because Barbie’s screen lock was a pattern instead of a password and the first pattern I tried, the letter M, worked. Seriously, was he that dumb? He could’ve put his birth date or “1234” as his password, and he would’ve had the same level of protection—meaning none. Even my eighty-year-old grandmother, who used to think her phone camera would record a video the moment it was opened, could create a better screen lock than him.
I went to his text messages, expecting to find ones from Steven, but the last text Barbie had received from him was before he’d disappeared, and the same old flicker of hope in my chest burned out. Steven hadn’t even responded to the last few texts, in which Barbie had asked him if he was okay, so Barbie was in the dark just like me.
I went through his other messages hoping to find something I could use against him, and that made me want to rip my eyeballs out, finding so much dirt I could never unsee. His texts were an endless pit of sexting, exchanged with so many girls it seemed as though he’d slept with the whole female population of Connecticut.
I lost count of how many times I’d cringed, reading “Sit on my eight-inch dick” again and again, until I had to take a break and remove my hand from that dirty device. I grabbed an antibacterial wipe and scrubbed the germs off the whole phone, chiding myself for not doing that befor
e I’d gone through it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d held it in his hand while doing nasty things and left all kinds of germs all over it.
My next stop was his browser history. It was filthy too, with links to various porn videos with gross titles, and just to spite him, I typed “How to cleanse with holy water”, “Read the Bible online”, “Exterminate evil spirits”, and “Prayers against Satan” in Google search and left the results open in separate tabs.
Blake’s caller ID appeared on the screen, but I ignored the call and went to the photo gallery. I braced myself for more porn and girls’ nudes, but all I found were occasional photos with Eli and countless selfies of him posing in front of a mirror—many of them shirtless. My eyes started to hurt from rolling them so much. He was such a narcissist.
After I saw one naked chest too many, I went to his Instagram. I skimmed through his account, but all it contained were photos of his car, and him partying or hugging busty chicks. I was halfway to puking my guys out. Who was he trying to impress? And why wasn’t Eli in any of these photos? I browsed through his whole profile, but there was nothing that even alluded remotely to his poverty. It was like those Instagram influencers’ accounts where everything was ideal and polished, like their shit and piss were made of gold.
I tapped my foot against the floor, itching to ruin that perfect image he’d build for his more than twelve thousand followers.
Coming up with an idea, I typed “brain picture” into the browser and took a screenshot of the photo. I uploaded that photo to his Instagram and wrote a caption that said “You know what this is? It’s something I don’t have.”
I cackled as various laughing emoji comments began to pour in. I didn’t bother with his DMs, certain I would find more porn-like material, and changed the name of his account from “masenbrown” to “major_douchebag.” I also changed his password, thanks to the passwords he kept in a note. Let’s see if he could ever crack “IEatBoogersForBreakfast.”
I couldn’t stop laughing as I also changed his Snapchat and Facebook passwords, locking him out of all his social media accounts, ignoring Hayden’s and Blake’s texts and calls all the while. For the grand finale, I downloaded a particular song that suited him perfectly and set it as his ringtone, hoping I would be present to see his face when his phone rang. I should even prepare my phone to record his expression if that happened.