Expel

by Addison Moore

  “It is good,” his breath dances across my cheek. “And, it is evil.”

  “What happens if I go inside?”

  “Ask them,” Marshall wands his hand over the multitude of dead Fems mounted up above.

  I think I have my answer.

  Chapter 29

  Time of our Lives

  The next morning something stirs in our world. Misery wafts on the horizon like a bitter perfume. Its scent precludes the lot of us but nature gives rise to the caveat.

  A scarlet sky—the dense bushy evergreens pressing into one another fighting for space on the island’s rocky shore. It was as if alarms were going off all around us. Our world was infiltrated with warning bells, one sounding off after another. But all I could comprehend was the joy of holding Gage freely throughout the halls and sprawling lawns at West. The fact my boyfriend was able to shower me with kisses before and after class, in front of the student body at large without having to fear that my life would be swept from under me was unadulterated bliss.

  At school, Gage sits behind me, protective and faithful during second period, as Marshall goes off on a tangent about the revolution of mathematics. He espouses its glorious riches dating back since the beginning of the time, the mathematical wonders of nature, the golden spiral ratio.

  He passes around a nautilus shell. It’s soft, smooth inside, glows a beautiful iridescent, it contrasts the gnarled outer layer that’s been exposed to the harsh elements of the sea. I pass it back to Gage, bite down a smile because he eclipses the glory of the nautilus shell as it vies for attention as one of God’s greatest creations.

  I spin back around and my mind drifts back to Demetri’s hall of horrors, rife with celestial based felonies. I just can’t excavate from my mind the things I saw at Demetri’s haunted estate. The strange carcasses staged all over the secret room. Marshall had to walk me through a wall just to return me to the library from where I came. I wonder what my mother would think of Demetri if she knew what those framed pictures meant—how far out of her skin she would freak out if she ever laid eyes on the atrocities hanging just below his ceiling?

  It turns out Demetri wants me to help him catalogue his grandfather’s belongings. There was talk of a donation to a local museum that helps preserve the history of Paragon. It was my mother’s suggestion and Demetri flinched when she said it. I suppose it’s doubtful he’ll be parting with his haunted devices anytime soon.

  “Take Ms. Messenger for example,” Marshall’s voice penetrates me, it comes at me unnaturally invasive as though something perverse just happened, and I was only mildly aware of it. “Algebra is a wonderful tool that helps display the relationship between objects—even people.”

  I shake my head slightly in an effort to thwart the oncoming assault.

  If Marshall thinks turning Gage and I into some kind of twisted allegory will help my classmates master the art of relational studies, he can forget it. Things are going too damn well with Gage to ruin them with Marshall’s lewd and crude illustrations.

  “Mr. Harrison sits in front of Skyla, and Mr. Oliver charitably holds up the rear, therefore the three of them have a relational value. Of course, if you added Ms. Bishop to the mix who sits unprotected by such robust bookends you would devalue the relationship of the subjects involved.”

  I cut my gaze over to Chloe without daring to move my head.

  Note to self, accost Marshall for inciting the cheer bot Pit Bull in my direction. Of course, her wrath should be centered on the culprit in question, but Chloe’s instincts are skewed. It’s me she’s after. A storm could rage, flood all of the roads, cut all power to the island for days, and yet Chloe would have no problem laying the blame at my feet.

  “Therefore, Ms. Bishop is the weaker unit in the relationship,” he continues to propagate, “altogether unfit for the calling and should be removed from practice. I revert back to the original unit of three. They have the proper connection that empowers them to do all things.”

  The bell rings. The entire class stares up at Marshall with blank faces unaware of the contextual meaning of his parable. I get it. Chloe needs to be removed. Then Gage, Ellis, and I will prosper in the faction war—we have been empowered to do all things.

  “Mr. Oliver, may I see you a moment?” Marshall calls out while busying himself at the desk.

  I walk over with Gage, still adjusting my backpack, my heart beating erratic over what irresponsible verbiage Marshall might decide to spout off next.

  “Yes?” Gage flexes his dimples without trying.

  “The dimwit, with whom you reside, has decided to abandon his scholastic efforts.” Marshall doesn’t bother decoding his speech. “I’m informing you of this grievance so you can knock some sense into him before I review the matter with your parents. I’m afraid academic probation is a real possibility. Are you aware of the implications?”

  “No football,” Gage nods into him. “Got it. Appreciate you letting me know.”

  We head for the door. Leave it to Holden to so consummately screw everything up. Logan will be lucky to be on the sidelines let alone on the field come next fall.

  “Ms. Messenger?” Marshall flicks a finger for me to return.

  I backtrack sans Gage who is wise to Marshall’s private conversational schemes by now.

  “What?” I hiss. I’m still completely perturbed at the idea of having to deal with a stabby Ms. Bishop for the rest of the day—if only it were a day. I have a feeling this punishment is going to transcend the rest of my life.

  “I’ve had a vision.” He doesn’t bother to look up from adjusting his briefcase.

  “No thank you,” I say. I’ve sworn off Marshall’s lips for an eternity. I spin Gage’s forever ring on my finger, feel the pleasurable pull as it warms over my skin.

  “You’re attending a gathering Saturday night.” He looks up and smiles. “I’ll be home that evening should you need my services.”

  “Why would I need your services?” I seal my mouth shut because I’m not going to fall for his lip trickery anymore. “What kind of trouble am I getting into?”

  “Past tense, Skyla.” He straightens a stack of papers. “I’ve no clue what trouble awaits you, but I’ve been informed you’ve already done everything you’ll be drawn and quartered for.” He spears me with great intensity. “I’ll be up late should you desire my company.”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be with Gage.”

  I walk out the door.

  I’m going to do everything in my power not to run to Marshall Saturday night.

  I glide my arm around Gage, and we walk down the hall like a couple.

  It’s heaven like this.

  Skyla and Gage, forever.

  ***

  At lunch, Gage and I watch with our mouths on the floor as faux Logan embeds himself in a group of girls while doing his best Ellis impersonation. Only he’s not acting like Ellis, he’s acting like Holden—exactly who I wish he wasn’t.

  “He’s really back to his old self,” Gage muses resting his head against mine. He keeps alluding to the fact Logan was a real ass-wipe prior to his relationship with me.

  “What are you talking about?” And what is Holden doing out of class? Logan doesn’t have lunch this hour. He has A lunch and Gage and I have B.

  “He’s back in the game, on the hunt, the prowl. It’s his element. He thrives in estrogen laced environments.”

  “What?” If Logan were really here, there would be no way he would act like that. I look around the vicinity because I’m willing to bet he is in fact here, dying of embarrassment. No pun intended.

  “Hey, guys.” Brielle plops a tray laden with the cafeteria’s interpretation of edible fare out on the table. There is no way Brielle is going to be able to consume all that food. It hardly seems possible anyone is capable of such an excessive digestive feat.

  “Hard left,” Gage whispers in my ear.

  I look over and see Drake extricating a stream of stupid from his lips, lobbing his nonsensical
words in Emily’s direction. What in the hell is wrong with him?

  Ethan and Chloe stride by, and she comes to an abrupt stop at the sight of us.

  “I know we got off on the wrong foot, Skyla,” she gives a shy smile.

  Yeah, like killing my father, wrong foot.

  “But it would really mean a lot to me if you guys came to my house tomorrow night. My parents are out of town and I’m calling in a pizza.” She reaches back and touches Ethan’s cheek like a habit, “we’re picking up a movie and just hanging out—no big deal.”

  Ethan swoops his hands around her waist, draws her in before kissing her soft on the temple.

  “I don’t know,” I say, backing further into Gage. “We sort of have plans.” Not really but we can manufacture them from thin air if we had to.

  “If you change your mind, the fun starts at seven,” she shrugs. “You know where to find me.” Chloe doesn’t look at Gage once.

  “They’ll be there,” Ethan assures. “I’ll make sure of it.” He winks over at me as they take off.

  “Yeah, right.” I spin around and let Gage drape his arms over me. Let him wash my lips with his magical kisses.

  Tomorrow night is just for the two of us. We have finally hit our stride.

  Gage and I are together, open and free right here at West. We have both Chloe and Logan’s blessing, well, Logan’s for a time, and Chloe’s as long as there’s a prison sentence dangling over her head. But this priceless moment, these sacred hours—they are just the beginning.

  This is the time of our lives.

  Chapter 30

  The List

  Saturday morning, long shards of darting rain fall slantways against the window. It creates a sad drumming in our corner of the world. Something about the rhythm, the unrelenting heartache embedded in its Morse code makes me miss my father.

  I head down to the kitchen, still dizzy from waking up too early and bump into a body.

  Gah—it’s Chloe!

  Her rumpled hair rises in the back, she’s wearing sweats and a flimsy t-shirt that might as well be wet because, freaking shit, I can see right through it. I know for a fact she’s not wearing a bra.

  “Your pencil erasers are showing,” I hiss.

  “Is that anyway to speak to our guest?” Tad says, rather dismissively while going over paperwork with Mom. In all honesty, I didn’t see them there hovering over the table.

  “Guest?” I balk. I had to sign a contract that I’ll never breathe the same air as a boy, and Chloe is here at this ungodly hour of the morning with her breasts making an eye-popping debut as our guest?

  Ethan wanders in with a severe case of bed head. He wraps an arm around her waist offering a sloppy kiss before heading to the fridge.

  Brielle and Drake amble down looking equally disheveled and outright skank from a wild night’s romp.

  “What the hell?” It comes out just above a whisper.

  “That reminds me,” Mom hops up and dispenses a fat white placebo courtesy of Dr. Booth. “It’s just a trial, Skyla. I think I’m seeing an improvement already,” she says, winking in secret.

  I’m still suffering from my fatigue hangover coupled with the shock and awe campaign launched by the Landon brothers, so I can’t even begin to decode that wink she just gave.

  “What’s that on your finger?” Mom’s mouth opens with surprise. “Is that an engagement ring?”

  “Actually it’s—” I note the fact Chloe has stopped all movement and is scuttling in my direction.

  “It’s a forever ring.” The words swim from my lips like a dream.

  “She’s lying, Lizbeth.” Tad takes a sip from his coffee, doesn’t even bother looking up while delivering the barb.

  “Why would I lie?” Tad’s idiocracy has finally stymied me.

  “Why wouldn’t you,” Chloe says it low while picking up my finger and inspecting the silver band, the blue eye of Gage staring right back at her in the shape of a heart.

  “I’ll tell you why.” Tad holds up a yellow legal pad and waves it in the air. “Found this hidden beneath a stack of magazines on the coffee table.”

  Still no clue what the moron in question is railing about.

  Am I in the right house? The right time zone? Because something is way the hay off this morning in this corner of the universe.

  “Listen to this, Lizbeth,” he begins. “It appears your daughter finds it perfectly acceptable to one-up our wedding and plans to jockey herself into the Paragon social limelight with a lavish affair just one week before our humble but meaningful event.” His face turns a strange shade of pomegranate. I’m shocked at how genuinely pissed he seems. Either, A, Chloe planted that stack of bullshit or B—

  “Those are my notes,” Mom snatches the legal pad from his stubby little fingers. “I moved the wedding up, and I may have changed the location.”

  Or that.

  “What?” Tad stands as if it were an outcry that my mother didn’t find his backyard barbeque adequate enough to fulfill her romantic desires. “We were going to get a new TV, and the whole family was going to watch a baseball game.” He holds out his hands perplexed.

  Doesn’t every girl dream of renewing her vows during the seventh inning stretch?

  “I know,” Mom shakes her head, “I know we said that, but Demetri offered his estate, and I couldn’t say no. It’s amazing. It’s going to be like a fairytale.” She bites down on her lip, and her eyes avert heavenward as if she were watching the event unfold on the ceiling.

  “Fairytale is right.” Tad takes back the legal pad and riffles through its sunny pages. “Lobster? A seven tiered marzipan cake? Imported cheeses from around the world?” Tad’s head swivels like it might actually become detached.

  “It’s my wish list,” she snipes.

  Tad looks to Ethan and Drake for help. I don’t know why he doesn’t buck up and give Mom a decent wedding. She wasn’t asking for the Waldorf Astoria. In the least, he could have offered her a church and taken us to an all you can eat buffet afterwards.

  “We can’t afford this,” he spits it out forced like a geyser. “Have you forgotten the all expenses paid vacation we’re giving these two next weekend?” He points hard at Drake and Brielle. I’m sure he means a visit to the obstetrics clinic Brielle strong-armed them into taking her to. I shudder at the memory of my own trip there.

  “Oh, Hon,” Mom’s voice reduces thick as molasses, “We don’t have to pay for any of this. Demetri insisted. It’s his gift to the family.” She goes over and wraps her arms around his waist, pecks a kiss on his cheek. “This is going to be the thrill of a lifetime.”

  “As long as I get to be the groom,” Tad sneers over her shoulder.

  He won’t if Demetri gets his way.

  ***

  Chloe traps me in the hall before ushering me backwards into Ethan’s room. I’d shout for Brielle to rescue me, but she’s entertaining everyone with the tiny feet prodding from her bulbous stomach.

  The bed is unmade. The air is stale, smells of old socks and questionable his and hers body odor.

  “Listen,” she says, sealing the door shut behind her. “I know we’ve gotten off to a rocky start.”

  “Criminal offenses were committed,” I’m quick to remind her. “You’re the sole reason my mother is in there planning to reenact the second worse day of my life.” The first being my father’s death, but I’m so melancholy this morning I might cry at the mention of him.

  “No, I’m not responsible,” she shakes her head defiantly. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the Sectors and the Fems pitting us against each other, and it all became crystal clear. They wanted you here. They used me. I was nothing but a pawn in a game of high stakes manipulation. I swear it. I’m not shitting you. They need us both for different reasons. I know the rules to the game,” she fingers the protective hedge around her neck absentmindedly before dropping her hand back to her side. “They need us to fight the war because they’re not allowed.”


  “What?” It does make sense. I drop my gaze to the underwear strewn around the floor. “I’ll see what I can find out.” From Marshall, from my mother, but I don’t tell Chloe that. “I think you might be right. Why else couldn’t the Sectors and the Fems duke it out themselves? Why would they need an army of half-breeds unless they weren’t allowed to play the game?” I hate calling the faction war a game. Logan has hinged our future upon it, so have I in a way.

  “You notice anything strange about Logan?” She tilts her head into me like we’re suddenly besties.

  She knows.

  “He’s not himself,” I whisper to see if she’ll bite.

  “That’s because he’s Holden Kragger.”

  She went there.

  “Now what?” I can’t believe I’m talking to Chloe of all people about the precious soul I’ve managed to displace.

  Chloe lunges into me with her deathly black smile, her eyes reduced to slits.

  There’s something dangerous happening here and I can’t put my finger on it.

  “I’ve assigned Michelle to him,” she confides.

  “What?”

  “Relax, she’s too into Dudley to do something stupid. That way Logan keeps his flesh clean and free from all the hoes lined up to take advantage of the situation. Holden had a very specific thing for Michelle. He about died when he told me they were going out. It’s all going as planned.”

  “How are we going to get Logan back?” We? Mother F—I’ve just drifted past sanities horizon.

  “I’ll let you handle that. I’ve got enough blood on my hands.” She drops a remorseful gaze to the floor before darting back into me with those hard steely lasers. “Skyla, I don’t want you to say anything in return, but I do want you to know I’m really sorry about everything. I’m going to hate myself until the day I die over the role I played in your father’s death. And, I feel pretty terrible about keeping you and Gage apart, too.” A single tear rolls over her cheek. “I think deep down inside I wished Gage would have felt the same way about me. I thought given enough time—enough of everything, that he would have loved me.” She swallows hard, shaking her head. “But, I have that with Ethan now. He worships me.” She presses her lips together.