Wicked Games

by S. Massery

  I sit, emptying my bagged lunch, while Riley slides in across from me. Eli already got their lunches, and the table is suddenly full. Ignoring Theo’s pursed expression, I turn to Liam. “Where’s Caleb today?”

  Liam coughs. “Um, sick.”

  “With what?”

  “Huh?”

  “A cold, the flu, pneumonia…?” I shrug. “There are just so many things, some more serious than others.”

  “Drop it, Margo,” Theo snaps.

  I raise my eyebrow. “Eli?”

  He lifts his head.

  “Why’s Caleb out with a mysterious sickness?”

  Riley groans. “This is why you didn’t even hesitate—”

  “You live with him, for God’s sake,” I continue. It shouldn’t bother me this much, but it’s just another mystery that I don’t want to deal with. I need answers. Crave them as much as I crave Caleb’s touch.

  When did I become a junkie? Addicted to Caleb—no better than my mother and her drugs—no matter how bad he is for me.

  It takes his lack of attention for me to realize it.

  I’m such an idiot. My heart is winning the argument.

  “I’m not sure he’d want me to tell you,” Eli says. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me while he’s laid up in bed—”

  “Ah, so he’s not at the hospital or anything?” I give Eli my best worried face.

  Theo groans, punching Eli’s shoulder. “You idiot.”

  I shrug and stand. “Thanks, Eli. I’m glad someone is helpful.”

  And then… well, I don’t really have a plan. I walk out of the cafeteria and keep going, straight outside. I don’t have a car, but that can’t stop me. I’ll walk there if I have to. Come up with an excuse for Robert later—

  “Wait,” Riley calls, jogging up behind me.

  I look at her.

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?” she asks.

  “Didn’t Eli pick you up?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “So, you don’t have a car,” I finish.

  She rolls her eyes and holds up a set of keys. “I happen to know someone who does. And that person might not have realized I stole them out of his bag, so we should probably hurry.”

  I laugh, grabbing her hand. We run across the lot to Eli’s truck, and it feels a bit like we’re breaking the law. We stay hunched as Riley fires it up and backs out of the spot, then guns it out of the driveway.

  “Do you want me to wait?” she asks. We’re not even there yet.

  My hands shake.

  “Margo,” she says. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

  “Oh, um, no. Can you just tell Robert that I had an emergency?”

  She exhales. “Yeah, sure. He’ll see through it, but…”

  “Maybe I’ll be back sooner than expected,” I say. “I’ll call a taxi or bike or something.”

  She nods, pulling into Eli’s driveway. Caleb’s driveway. I have to remind myself that he lives here—it’s his home, too. Even if his real house is a few blocks away, filled with ghosts and dust.

  She hits the button for the garage door. “You can get in that way,” she says. “And Margo… good luck.”

  I grin at her. I tremble—from nerves, fear, I don’t know—but I need to do this. I have a sick feeling in my gut that something is terribly wrong, and his friends’ answers didn’t set me at ease. I wouldn’t be here if I could just ignore it and focus on schoolwork. But no, Caleb’s stuck at the front of my mind like superglue.

  More like crazy glue.

  I jump out of the truck. She waits until I get the door open to back out of the driveway, and then I’m in. The door from the garage leads into a mudroom, then the kitchen. It’s silent up here, and I kick off my shoes to move quietly through the house.

  I get to the top of the basement stairs. There’s a light on at the bottom, but everything else is in shadow. Television noises float up. I swallow, then take a deep breath.

  Courage, Margo.

  I go to the bottom of the stairs, cracking the door.

  He’s on the bed. I can make out his shape in the dimly lit room, but he doesn’t react to my appearance. I steel myself and creep closer and closer. Blueish light from the TV is the only source of light, and it flickers constantly.

  My heart seems to jump into my throat. I get close enough to see more than just a blob of shadow. He’s on his stomach, his head turned away. Instead of a shirt, there are bandages wrapped around his chest.

  What happened to you?

  I’m afraid to touch him, but I do it anyway. I put my hand on his shoulder, as gently as I can.

  He reacts like I hoped he wouldn’t.

  He comes alive, twisting and grabbing my arm. He hauls me over him and pins me to the mattress between him and the wall. He grips my wrists with an iron hold.

  “Caleb.”

  His eyes are open but unseeing, and his whole body is tense. Tremors run through him. He doesn’t see me, just whatever nightmare he’s trapped in.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. I rise and put my forehead to his. “Come back to me.”

  He said those same words to me. Come back. Earth to Margo.

  Slowly, he crawls out of the darkness. He blinks rapidly, eyes going from my lips to my nose to my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  I manage to smile. “I came to check on you.”

  He leans away, wincing. His hands slide off my wrists.

  I stay where I am. Part of me is still in shock. That whole ordeal took a minute at most, but it feels like we were in that position for a lifetime.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He stands, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why?”

  He turns off the television, and the room goes dark. A second later, he flicks on the lamp on his dresser. The bandages around his torso are wide, crisp white, and cover most of his back. He moves stiffly toward the bathroom, shaking his head.

  I finally scramble out of bed, following him. “Why shouldn’t I be here, Caleb?”

  He glares at me. “I wanted the Jenkinses to kick you out.”

  I flinch, but he’s not done.

  “I wanted your life to be ruined. To make you fall in love just to squash it—your heart—like you did to me.”

  His face is a mask of fury—but I don’t believe it. For once, I can see the liar in him. Every word that falls from his mouth is a goddamn lie.

  Enough is enough.

  “You’re mad that you want me,” I say, heading toward him.

  His eyes widen, and he steps away. I back him farther into the bathroom, until he hits the counter. And I don’t stop until I’m right between his legs.

  I slide my hands up his chest. I pause over his heart, reveling in the steady thump-thump. My own pulse is out of control. One hand stays on his chest, and I let my other continue up. Over his throat, which bobs, to his jaw. I sweep my thumb across his lower lip.

  His eyes are dark.

  “You’re mad that I see you,” I whisper. “All of you. And I’m not backing down. I’m here because you can’t get rid of me, even if you threaten me.”

  I’m in.

  Two words and a mountain worth of clarity. It’s always been Caleb. It’ll always be Caleb.

  He hasn’t moved, and his words from his car come back to me. He handed me control, and I still have it. His hands rest on the counter, supporting some of his weight. His eyes are on my face.

  It’s my decision.

  “Touch me,” I demand.

  He doesn’t react. If anything, his eyes get darker. I suppress a shiver. His finger edges under the waistband of my uniform skirt, untucking my shirt. He slowly unbuttons it, tugging it wide open. And then he just… looks at me.

  “Caleb.”

  He shakes his head. “You want to know what’s fucked up?”

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore—caught up in my mess.”

  I touch the bandages
. “What happened?”

  They’re held in place by two metal clips. I release them and unwind it. He lets me, holding perfectly still.

  I pass the roll behind his back and under his arms. There’s gauze stuck to his back, and I pull it loose carefully. He releases a hiss of breath, but he doesn’t stop me.

  His back…

  My heart shatters.

  It’s worse than my stomach. Black and blue bruises. Welts and a few round burns. The gauze pad has splotches of pink-tinted liquid on it.

  “Who did this?” I ask, keeping my voice level. I’ve never quite experienced the rage that I sometimes see on Caleb’s face, but it’s coming at me now, faster than a hurricane. My hands shake.

  He takes the bandages from me and sets them aside. He lifts my hands, kissing my fingers. “You caring means a lot,” he says.

  “Was it your dad?” I can’t stop thinking about the dream—the argument between my mom and his dad. The glass she threw. They had a temper, I’ve figured that much. Both of our parents.

  “Margo…”

  “Just tell me.” I gnash my teeth. “I’m so sick of the bullsh—”

  “My uncle,” he says. “Okay? Happy? He wasn’t thrilled at my behavior recently and decided he needed to teach me a lesson. Something that wouldn’t affect my game.” He laughs, but it grates against my ears. “I’m pretty sure he cracked a fucking rib, but that shouldn’t stop me.”

  My eyes fill with tears.

  “Do not cry for me,” he warns.

  “I won’t.” I sniff. I turn away from him. Ugh. His uncle did that to him—his uncle beat him. Facing the wall, I ask, “Is that where you were this weekend? At his house—”

  His hands slide up my arms, and I press my lips together. His chest is hot against my back. I close my eyes, because this is what I wanted. This is what I asked for.

  Touch me.

  When his lips ghost along my neck, I shudder.

  “You’re crying,” he whispers.

  I lean into his chest, letting my head fall back. He meets my gaze. His small frown grows bigger by the second.

  “Sorry that I care.” I rub at my eyes, willing my composure to return. “You left me alone all weekend…”

  “Ah, and your mind jumped to abandonment.”

  “Or death,” I murmur.

  He hugs me from behind, and I die of shock. Caleb Asher is hugging me. He’s wrapped around me like an octopus, infusing heat into my suddenly cold body. It’s a little surreal—like the devil has shed a few layers, and he’s not actually that bad.

  I’ve discovered a bigger monster—his uncle.

  “I need to get these covered again,” he says against the top of my head.

  I turn in his arms, dying to hug him back but afraid of hurting him. My hands twitch at my sides. Just when I think he might kiss me—he’s got that look—he takes a step back and tosses the gauze to me.

  “Okay. Yeah, I can do this.”

  He snorts. “Not much choice, since you unwrapped it to begin with.”

  Fair.

  I manage it, and we walk out of the bathroom.

  “You should leave,” he says.

  I spin around. “What?”

  “You don’t think I noticed you came here in the middle of the day?” He picks up his phone and sends a message, then tosses it back down. “It’s cute. You skipping school.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” I sit on the couch. “Can’t I just stay here?”

  “I’m just imagining the wrath of your foster family.” He shrugs. “On second thought, maybe you should stay.”

  “Now you’re just being an ass.”

  “I already called you a car.”

  I pull out my phone, wincing at the time. “This is what I get for trying to be nice.”

  “After you were so cruel?” He sits beside me, too gingerly for my liking, and bumps my arm with his elbow. “Hot and cold, little wolf.”

  My cheeks heat up.

  “Fine,” I say, shaking my head. I can take his dismissal, especially masked as concern. “Is the car here?”

  “Probably.”

  I stand and tuck my phone into my pocket.

  “Hey, Margo?”

  I turn back to him, quirking my lips.

  “Might want to button your shirt.”

  My whole body catches on fire. Caleb’s laughter chases me up the stairs. I close my shirt and tuck it back into my skirt. Nothing even happened, I try to convince myself. I just discovered Caleb’s uncle is probably a sadist, and I’m way more head-over-heels for Caleb than I thought.

  You win, heart.

  17

  Caleb

  Eli brings reinforcements after school. His parents are still in Chicago, but he begged to come back. I can’t fathom why—besides maybe a certain junior girl who has his dick in a vise.

  Liam and Theo are the first in, turning on every damn light in the basement. I grimace and throw my shoe at them, not caring who it hits. Lucky me, I nail Liam in the chest.

  He grunts, catching it before it drops.

  “You had Margo freaked out,” Liam announces. He lets the shoe fall from his grasp instead of throwing it back.

  That’s how I know Eli spilled the beans. He was probably the one who said something to make Margo suspicious in the first place.

  “I know,” I say. “Because she showed up.”

  I can’t say I’m mad about it. Not at her. It makes me actually happy that she came to me—a buzzing in my chest like a million wasps. But I am pissed at my friends for being so fucking transparent.

  Eli shrugs. “She’s a feisty one.”

  “Interrogated all of us.” Theo flops on the couch. “Guess who gave in?”

  “Eli,” Liam, Theo, and I all say at once.

  Eli groans. “Look, man, she just was pouting, and then Riley was staring at me—”

  “Softie,” Liam says through a fake cough. “So… You wanna talk about it?”

  I roll my eyes. “About the hell weekend? Not particularly.”

  “My parents will be back soon,” Eli says. “This shit won’t fly.”

  “It will until I’m eighteen,” I mumble. “If I want to see a single dime, I have to do what he says.”

  “Or what? It’s in your name.” Eli glares at me like this beating was my fault. And honestly, it kind of is.

  I instigated my uncle’s behavior. Pushed his buttons. Set fire to his carefully constructed plans with glee.

  Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

  Consequence.

  Punishment.

  It isn’t like he kept me locked in the basement. It was a little subtler than that. Dinner with my mother, aunt, and uncle in near silence. Mother is thinner than normal, makeup creased under her eyes in an attempt to hide the dark circles. She picked at her food, much to Aunt Iris’s distain. I was surprised to even see Mother there. Usually she made a quick appearance—a day, two—and then vanished.

  Uncle David grilled me relentlessly.

  I didn’t give him anything except hoarse wheezes while he put his cigar out on my flesh.

  “Dude.” Eli waves his hand in front of my face.

  I jerk back, shoving him away.

  “Easy,” he mutters. “Lost you for a second.”

  Come back to me. Margo often went down the rabbit hole of memories, worrying me the way her face got blank. I must’ve looked the same.

  “April fifteenth,” I say, shaking out my arms. My back pulls, but I lean into the pain. Pain means I’m still alive. “I just have to make it until then.”

  “Five months,” Liam says. “Easy.”

  Right.

  “What was the ultimatum?” Theo asks.

  I tilt my head, surprised he went there. His family is fucked up, too. He understands on a level Eli and Liam might not. Eli has absentee parents and a large extended family. Liam’s got his parents and brother piled on top of him in a small house, where no one gets away with anything—but there’
s love there.

  “Stay focused on lacrosse and college,” I say.

  And forget about Margo. I don’t have to voice that part aloud. It doesn’t matter, anyway: it isn’t happening.

  Especially after her visit this afternoon.

  If I wasn’t half out of my mind on painkillers, I might’ve done more to make her stay. But we’ve turned over a new leaf. She’s mine—she’ll always be mine—but she has to come to me.

  I broke her, and she needs to learn to walk on her own again. And walk to me. She already is. Again: bees in my chest.

  “Fuck,” Liam grunts.

  “It’s fine.” I pick myself up. “You bring home food?”

  “We ordered pizza on the way,” Eli tells me. “How do you—?”

  “You’re not about to ask how I feel,” I interrupt. “I’d rather go back to my uncle’s than answer that.”

  “Fine.” Eli crosses his arms.

  “Fine.” I glare at him.

  Still, I admit that the company is a nice change. I take my medication on time and eat as much pizza as I can, topping it off with ice-cold water. They fill me in on everything that happened at school and practice. The party on Saturday was a big fat bummer.

  All in all, I didn’t miss much.

  Except Margo. She admitted—or close to it—she wished I had come to her over the weekend. And even if she didn’t say it, I could see the hurt in her eyes.

  We have a push-and-pull relationship. She shoves me away, I reel her back in. Always.

  She’s not getting rid of me, even if everyone wants to keep us apart.

  Once my friends leave, and Eli retreats to his room, I slip on shoes and grab my keys. My back stings, but I ignore it. I don’t like how things left off with Margo, and I’m determined to fix them.

  I park outside her house and get out of the car. It’s barely seven o’clock, so I stroll up to their front door. Who’s going to be more upset by my presence—Lenora or Robert?

  I ring the doorbell, tucking my hands in my pockets.

  Lenora opens the door. Her eyes widen, and she goes to close the door in my face. I block it with my foot, trying not to smile. It’s a mother’s instinct—pure protection. Margo probably doesn’t see it, but I do. They care about her. It’s sweet.