Expel

by Addison Moore

  “Three quarters of a mile to be exact. And I’ll generously extend to you an extra second. You’ll do it in eleven.”

  “There are rocks,” I say, scanning the distal end of the point. “I can’t run over those. I’ll twist my ankles.”

  “At the speed in which you’ll be traveling you’ll hardly skim the surface. It’s just this side of flying. Of course, if you choose not to believe and break faith in the middle of this experiment, yes, you’ll twist more than your ankles.”

  Gah! I’ll kill myself playing his ludicrous war games.

  “OK, so how do I go about—”

  “Run!” Marshall doesn’t wait for me to finish my question. He roars like a lion, powerful and fierce and, well, let’s face it—for all practical purposes I start running to get the hell away from him.

  I run. It takes more than an extra large dose of delusions to tell myself I can run faster, and oddly each time I do, my legs propel at bionic speeds. The wind cuts across my face at such an accelerated rate it’s impossible to inhale. I hit the point and turn back around. My feet glide over the surface of the rocks, the sand—at one point I’m gliding over water. I bubble with laughter as I knock both Marshall and myself to the ground in an effort to slow down.

  “Twelve seconds,” he whispers in my ear as we roll towards shore. He pulls me on top of him and steadies me, looks into my face with those twin brandy goblets he surmises the world through. “You were a vision to behold. How does it feel?”

  “Exhilarating,” I pant. I’d roll myself off, but I don’t have an ounce of surplus strength left, and besides, Marshall strums through me with his incredible feel good vibes and initiates a well needed massage over my already vibrating muscles.

  “I’m glad you think so. It’s time to begin the exercise.”

  “What?” I slap him in the chest without meaning to. I’m sure Chloe will add this footage as a DVD extra, she’ll have it playing from here to eternity in every dimensional plane possible. Just the thought racks me with guilt. My entire body aches for Gage and his kisses.

  “The water, Skyla.” Marshall wraps his arms around me and rolls us twice until the icy sting of the Pacific baptizes us with its precipitous fire.

  A scream gets locked in my throat and I can’t breathe from the shock of the arctic jolt.

  “Inhale,” he commands, carrying me out deeper until the water covers his shoulders. “Demand your body to accommodate you. Rile yourself up with fury, whatever it is that prompts you to initiate that Celesta reserve you seldom tap into.”

  Chloe and her maniacal video graphic maneuver sail through my mind—the DVD of my own undoing. My blood boils from the pure hatred I feel for her, for the situation she highlighted last night for all to see. Mostly I’m angry at me for putting myself in compromising situations with Logan and Marshall—like I am now.

  “We’re going under, Skyla.” There is not one note of pleasure on his face. It’s as if he knows it’s a bad idea but he’s going to do it anyway.

  “No,” I protest.

  “Take a deep breath,” he instructs.

  And I do.

  Marshall wastes no time plunging us below the water, swimming us out into the deep reserves, nothing but the black underbelly of the ocean waiting to greet us.

  I coil my arms and legs so tight around his body, I may have accidentally fused our flesh together in an effort to believe I won’t slip off.

  I’m going to leave and you’re going to swim back. Your clothes and keys are waiting on shore.

  “No!” Stupidly exhale most of my reserve and latch my hands around his neck in an effort to strangle some sense into him.

  Marshall pulls me in, places his lips over mine and expels a lungful of blissful air into me. I take it in, quiver as it fills me. I need Marshall to survive in this watery graveyard. It’s reminiscent of the way we met and I hope to God it’s not the way we say goodbye as I leave this planet. Not that I wouldn’t see Marshall on the other side, but still.

  Don’t leave me, I beg, greedily taking the breath he offers and then some.

  Very well, he says. Swim us back. It’ll be more work for you, but you’re more than capable.

  I tighten my fingers around his neck in the event he decides to pull that ‘just believe’ crap, but he doesn’t.

  And I swim.

  I flex my entire body like a mermaid pulling and dragging Marshall like a corpse attached for the ride.

  I can’t, I cry, arching my back in pain.

  You can and you must, he shouts into me.

  I pull his lips over to mine but all I’m capable extracting from him is a rather invasive kiss.

  I need air! I drill into him. My lungs burn with fire. Inhaling my way into kingdom come seems like a very real possibility.

  No, Love. Swim, push yourself past your mortal abilities. Push deeper and harder. Swim as if your life depended upon it—the faction war does. Push through the pain, Skyla.

  I try to free myself from his grasp and bolt to the surface, but he holds me down. In a fit of anger I tunnel us through a wall of water, an entire school of fish, and tangle of seaweed until the surface and the sand converge at an acute angle.

  I yank us victoriously to the surface and inhale a blast of air that knifes through my lungs like fire.

  “You did it,” Marshall pants, embracing me. The glorious rhythm he exudes chimes through my body like a soothing composition.

  “I did it,” I say, trying to catch my breath. I rest my head on Marshall’s shoulder and close my eyes.

  I did it.

  If I could do this then I can do anything—except get Gage back.

  I’m afraid no matter how hard I believe that may never come true.

  Chapter 36

  The Bitch is Back

  The next morning Brielle offers me a ride to school but I refuse, on the grounds I have to work after, and I checked the schedule—so does Gage.

  I spent all morning primping and plucking through a pile of sweaters just to find the right one that might entice Gage to offer a slow blink in my direction. It’s going to be impossible for him to ignore me because he just so happens to be in all of my classes sans cheer, and, well, he has football practice, so technically we’ll be on the field at the same time. I sense an accidental body slam coming on.

  But Gage isn’t in first. So far, he hasn’t shown for second, either.

  Chloe shares a laugh with Ellis before class as if she didn’t just grind her heel into my heart, as if she didn’t witness Gage splatter across the walls from heartbreak.

  “You need to watch your back Chloe,” I hiss, pulling Ellis toward our seats. “Hear the news?” I ask him as we situate ourselves.

  “I saw the news. She hooked up the school. It’s gone viral. Hey,” he leans in confused, “dude, I don’t even remember us being together.”

  “Case in point, you should lay off the street drugs.”

  The class filters in. I’m met with shocked expressions, judgmental stares. Chloe has everyone believing I was with Dudley among others. And, ironically, it’s Marshall they think I cheated on.

  “Morning.” Marshall breezes in. Skyla. He glances behind me. I see you maintain the power to attract celestial baggage. The Pretty One pines for you dead or alive, how magnificent that must make you feel. Do consider repaying his devotion—toss a flower out to sea, light a candle in the window, commit to your specialty and make irrational promises that you have little intention on keeping—a sexual favor, a body—the standard fare.

  I make a face at Marshall’s factiousness. Only, I really am going to find Logan a body, and it just happens to be floating around right here on campus.

  “Hey,” Logan materializes in a watery form, lands in the seat behind me without inciting so much as a breeze. As far as I can tell no one else can see or hear him.

  I tip my ear back to listen.

  “Rumor has it the falls are beautiful this time of year,” there’s a slight flirtation in his tone. “I hav
e news about your mother. Can we talk after practice?” he asks.

  “I have to work,” I whisper.

  Ellis spins around and stares into me. Crimson explosions cover the whites of his eyes like a film.

  “You need a ride or something?” Clearly I’ve confused Ellis.

  I shake my head and motion for him to spin around again before Marshall turns this into some kind of spectator sport.

  “Ms. Messenger,” Marshall booms from the front. He leans against his desk and folds his arms, content to be rolling me around like a cat with a ball of yarn. Little does he know I’ve long since unraveled. “Do feel free to share your work schedule with the entire class. Have any discounts you’d like to offer to drum up business? Perhaps a field trip to the establishment is in order?” He doesn’t look amused.

  I shake my head at the offer.

  “Very well, then,” Marshall busies himself passing out papers.

  “Gotta go,” Logan whispers. “See you in the butterfly room tonight?”

  I nod in anticipation. Obviously, Logan has arranged for me to see my mother. He’s like the new liaison, or something. If I’m lucky, I’ll get Ezrina a new trial by midnight and get her off my back for good. Then all I have to do is off Holden once again, but now since Dr. Oliver is apprised of the situation, I’ll be spared that gruesome assignment as well. Everything is going perfect. I twist in my seat to smile at Gage and meet up with an empty chair.

  Except that, that’s not going perfect at all.

  Marshall looms over my chair sorting papers. I’ve been invited to dinner later this week.

  “What on earth for?” I hiss.

  Do stifle your excitement. Your mother is working on an ad campaign for the humanitarian effort I’m putting out.

  “A garage sale does not a humanitarian effort make,” I whisper. Although in Marshall’s mind, it’s probably the equivalent. “What’s this really about?” Voices continue to escalate all around us, steady and buzzing like a swarm of bees.

  It’s a primitive form of revenue retrieval. Not to mention a strategy of warfare. You do realize you could be transported at a moment’s notice to the nether regions of the ethereal plane. You have a disc with you I presume.

  I shrink in my seat.

  Looks like I’ll be making a quick pit stop to the homestead before hitting the bowling alley. Second thought, I might just sneak out after class. Who would really notice?

  Marshall walks past me slow and determined, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Marshall, that’s who.

  But he should be the last to care.

  ***

  Rain beats down between classes. It’s so chaotic outside, people are running up and down the walkways with backpacks flung over their heads, trying to shield themselves from the assault. No one will care that I’m speeding out towards the parking lot. I can totally be late for third. I’ll just say I had to use the bathroom, for like a really long time. What teacher in their right mind is going to contest the fact that I was dealing with a faulty tampon or that I was temporarily crippled with blinding cramps?

  I speed home to find the minivan tucked high up on the driveway signaling the fact Mom and Tad are on the premises. I’ll have to be covert—in and out like a ghost.

  There’s a disc hidden under a pile of clean underwear sitting on my dresser, only the mentally disturbed would think to riffle through that.

  The roof above the porch christens me with the water runoff, saturates my jacket with its harsh cold sting. Sprinkles greets me in the entry as I make my way inside. He spins in spastic circles with all of his hairless fury. His tiny nails clatter against the tile, creating a ruckus that I suspect will send Mom sailing down the hall at any moment. Figures—he’s a tattletale just like Mia. I give a quick scratch behind his ears and slink upstairs.

  Voices emanate from down the hall, so I scurry towards my room. God forbid I hear moaning or Mom screaming Tad’s name out in contrived ecstasy. Honestly, he could be strangling her, and I wouldn’t speed to her rescue on the off chance of catching them in a compromising position.

  I pause just shy of my door. It almost sounds as if—freaking shit! The murmurs are coming from my room.

  I flatten my back against the wall and try my best to decipher the conversation.

  Mom giggles. I can hear her self-abasing tone as though she were blatantly refusing a compliment.

  The deep baritone voice of a male vibrates through the walls—then laughter. That’s not Tad. I peer around the wall at the risk of getting caught and spy a tall dark figure reaching his hand out to my mother’s cheek. Demetri. Good God they’re getting it on right there in my bedroom. He’s probably infiltrated her head with some lie about it being a stupid Count ritual, when both he and I know it’s nothing but a big F.U. to my father and me.

  I see the large silver disc protruding from the edge of the dresser, and I reach up to try and snake it.

  “You hear something?” Mom peeks behind his shoulder just as I duck out of her line of vision.

  “It’s just the rain,” he says. “Here, let’s close the window.”

  I reach in blindly a second time and snatch at the disc victoriously, scraping it against the dresser in the process.

  I don’t wait for my mother to say anything or for Demetri to feed her his steady stream of bullshit. I bolt for the Mustang as if I had just robbed a bank.

  I’m halfway to West again before I can even begin to wrap my head around what just happened.

  ***

  I sulk all day over the fact my mother has slid so easily into infidelity, and that, I, as her adopted offspring, am doing so well in that department myself. Case in point, the love of my life didn’t bother to show up at school today because I wrung his heart out with exactly those circumstances.

  Just before cheer, I have the misfortune of bearing witness to a near x-rated PDA between Chloe and my newest stepbrother. It sickens me to watch Chloe paw all over Ethan. I haven’t had the initiative to confront him yet, but I have a feeling he could care less about what his so-called girlfriend did to ruin my life.

  The bell rings, mercifully ending their never-ending lip lock.

  “OK, everyone lineup, I have a few new maneuvers I need to get across today.” Chloe lets it out in one shrill cry.

  I watch her like a predator. I’m sure Chloe would love for me to pummel her into the ground right here at West. Of course that would warrant a suspension, an expulsion, and I would never risk my scholastic standing to take her down. I know for a fact she’s working a shift at the bowling alley tonight. I have a few maneuvers I’ll be sharing with her later, too.

  We run through a couple of routines for the All State competition before Ms. Richards blows the whistle and barks at us to break into groups.

  God—she really looks like Ezrina today. Her sun burnt hair blows wild, stands straight up every now and again, giving her that light socket effect that I’m pretty sure no woman goes after. Maybe I could arrange a meeting between Ezrina and Ms. Richards? I mean, Ms. Richards is her super great, great, whatever, and Ezrina did lament the fact she never visits. But somehow I’m certain Ezrina would rather be united with her Heathcliff—Nevermore. I can’t believe he went ballistic just because I said his name. Having both Gage and Nevermore pissed at me simultaneously feels like an apocalyptic worthy event.

  “Let’s go,” Chloe is all business, pulling me off to the side so we can do our doubles routine.

  “No freaking way,” I yank my arm free.

  “What’s the matter, Messenger? You didn’t think you were going to pull that shit on him forever did you? You think Gage wants someone like you? Someone who’s never met a penis she didn’t like?”

  I strike her across the face so fast I need the sting on my palm to assure me it happened.

  “Nice.” She spits while rubbing her cheek. “My comfort comes from the fact he’s already looking to me for consolation. Called me three times since Saturday. How about you, Skyla?” H
er coal black hair enwreathes her face, makes her lips pop like cherry blossoms. “Oh, that’s right. He mentioned he was never going to speak with you again.”

  I walk off the field—ignore Ms. Richards’ reprimand to get my rear back there and hit the shower.

  Getting back at Chloe is going to have to involve far more than just a beating. I might have to consult my favorite Sector to delineate the perfect path of wickedness to embark upon.

  But even more than I feel the need to inflict eternal punishment on Chloe—I crave Gage.

  I need Gage and our forever back, or not even Chloe’s demise could bring me pleasure.

  There is no pleasure and no sun, no breath worth taking without him.

  Chapter 37

  The Boss of You

  The cool crisp breeze of afternoon is replaced with air thick as tar. Long black sheets of torrential promise stretch out overhead, ready to pronounce their fury.

  Afterschool, I race over to the bowling alley, still hopped up on adrenaline after Chloe’s remark. The thought of her speaking with Gage shreds my heart to ribbons. It elicits a groan wrenched from the deepest part of me just thinking about him filling her ear with his velvet voice—if it’s true at all. I’ve learned my lesson. Trust Chloe and my entire world blows apart.

  In the bowling alley I find Brielle on her phone with her feet up on the table, head back, and laughing.

  I make my way into the kitchen on the lookout for Gage. My heart pumps like a horse at the gate, bucking and jumping with the anticipation of seeing him, but he’s not here. Instead, an older woman, a part of Logan’s regular staff approaches me.

  “My check didn’t clear,” she grunts, her face splotched unnaturally as if she had given herself a raspberry facial. “You need to talk to your boyfriend because if this goes on another week, he’s going to lose the entire crew.” Her tiny eyes glisten with anger.

  “I’ll get right on it,” I say, knowing full well I’m impotent to provide.