“Holy shit.”
“You got that right.”
“How old were you?”
“11? Maybe 12? That whole time is a little fuzzy in my head, I was really sick. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me because PV isn’t usually a thing in people younger than 60 or so. Guess I’m just special.”
“Jesus. I’m really sorry you went through that. And have to keep dealing with it. Is there anything I can do to help?”
She smiled. At first just down at the paper, then she tilted her head up and smiled at me. And I couldn’t figure out that smile — it wasn’t sad but it wasn’t happy. It wasn’t pleased, but it wasn’t cynical either. She smiled at me like the painting.
Out there, there’s not a lot of new films coming out, not like it used to be. There isn’t really a Hollywood anymore, and although a lot of the very rich people involved in making movies were able to afford what it took to survive, there are hundreds if not thousands of people involved in actual film production — all the little folks who were just regular people and they died no differently than anyone else. On top of that, film sets are viral playgrounds so very few people are willing to risk it — it used to be expensive to make movies, and now it could cost you your life. And no one goes to theaters anymore, anyway. No one. Movies get watched at home. Not here, of course, because there’s a two-screen theater downtown that is filled to capacity every night, but everywhere else, no one exposes themselves like that. There’s maybe a half dozen cinematic movies that come out in a year, at most, and they are either animated or huge productions with trillions of dollars invested in them. Online, independent productions are a different story, there are thousands of small-scale things released daily — we’ve become insatiable for entertainment that can be consumed privately, and that includes everything that was made and released before JANUS-23.
DVDs — even VHS tapes — are collected and hoarded like they’re made of gold. Same with books, comic books, video games, almost anything that we all used to take for granted but now that new anything is rare, it’s all treasured. Sure most things can be found online, but it’s magical when someone shows up with a box full of dog-eared paperbacks and old DVDs, things that you couldn’t even sell at a yard sale back in the day, and we all descend on it like locusts. Everything gets shared, everything gets read or watched over and over by everyone no matter what it is, and we’re fucking thrilled to have it. From the cheesiest romance to the darkest horror, all of it is shared and treasured.
We never saw the movie when it was in the theaters back in 2003 since we weren’t even born yet, and it wasn’t something I would have ever watched by choice before, but I’ve seen Girl With A Pearl Earring probably twenty times. There’s something about that world, Holland in the 17th century, that appeals to me — to all three of us, because Sev and Luka have seen it every time I have — and the painting itself… I think it’s her eyes. Her eyes and that barely-there smile.
When Azzie smiles at me after reading the note, I see that painting. I see hope and resignation. I see a girl who knows the extent of her world, and fights for every scrap of it without envy for those with more. I see a knowledge far deeper than I could ever understand, and an exasperated affection like she wishes she didn’t care but she just can’t help herself.
No, I can’t be here when she dies. She has to live forever like a painting in my memory, or what reason do I have to keep going?
Chapter Fourteen
Azzie
Sasha walked me down to the cafeteria after class, carrying my bag and hovering around me in the hallway keeping me from getting jostled or even looked at funny. It was weird. I’m not sure I liked it.
I liked that he was being so nice (even if it made me a little suspicious but I’m trying not to be that person), and it kinda felt good to be treated like I was a fragile little flower, but I didn’t like how other people responded to it. It drew attention. It garnered comments. I heard whispers, I heard my name, and I heard the story about Art History repeated. It hadn’t escaped the retelling that it was Sasha’s bed I had allegedly slept in.
“This was a mistake,” I said, voice low.
Sasha tilted his head down, leaning towards me. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. All that shit with Viper Twin One started with her saying I slept in your bed — and how the fuck did she know that anyway?” It never occurred to me until that moment to wonder how Adriana knew about the impromptu sleepover.
“Good question. Did you tell anyone?”
I made a face at him. “No!”
“It’s not a big deal, you know,” he said with a one shoulder shrug. “Wouldn’t matter if you did, it doesn’t mean anything.”
Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
“Yup, you’re right. I just don’t like being gossiped about, and frankly, if I’m going to be slut shamed, I’d rather it wasn’t over you.”
“Wow!” he said, stopping dead in his tracks with a pained chuckle. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”
“Seriously?”
“What? That was pretty mean. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“That’s not what I meant, dumbass. We’re friends, and it would suck if you got all awkward around me.”
He started walking again, not looking nearly so annoyed. “I wouldn’t be the awkward one, I give no fucks about anyone here.”
Yeah… cooooool. So. Fucking. Cool.
I walked beside him, silently, until we reached the cafeteria. “Okay,” I said, reaching for my bag, “thanks. You can go now.”
“Nope,” he said, pushing through the doors and holding them open for me.
“You can’t go back there with me,” I said, reaching for my bag again, “and it’s going to take a bit. You’ll be late for class if you wait for me.”
He made a face at me. “I don’t care if I’m late for class—” the way he said that, like it was some kind of ridiculous joke that he was here… it was odd. “—and this bag is always so fucking heavy. What do you have in here, bricks?”
“Books. Because school. Duh.”
“Why not just go to your locker between classes?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed I move a little slow. My joints hurt like all the time, and I get short of breath and tired really easily. Sometimes I can barely make it from one class to another in the ten minutes we have, there’s no time to go to my locker.”
“Then ten minutes isn’t enough, we need more time between classes—”
“They already made it ten minutes because of me,” I said, embarrassed.
He stopped talking. He stood there and stared at me, a little perplexed. “Really?” I nodded. He hesitated, a million things flitting across his face, then said, “Am I wrong, or— do they— are there a lot of things—” He clenched his jaw, slamming his lips together.
“Haven’t you realized yet that I’m special, Sasha?” I said teasingly. “Of course everything about this town is engineered around my needs.” I rolled my eyes.
He snorted, then carefully removed my fingers from my bag. His hand was warm, the skin dry and slightly rough, and his touch shot a bolt of something from my hand all the way to… places unknown. “Then you’re used to being catered to, and me carrying this around for you should be expected,” he said, ignoring my protest and walking behind the cafeteria counter. “Come on or you’ll make me late for class.”
He stood with me while Miss Elyse made me an emergency smoothie, one of the iron-rich ones that really made me gag because liver isn’t any tastier when it’s cooked, freeze-dried, and pulverized into powder, than it is right out of the pan. With wilted spinach and a citrus chaser? So far from yummy.
Sasha watched her blend the ingredients, horrified, and cringed away from it when she passed the glass over the counter to me. It wasn’t one that I wanted to linger over, so instead of a cup with lid and straw that I’d sip slowly, this one I always downed as quickly as possible then tried not to vomit.
�
�Bottoms up!” I winced, and slammed it back, then set the glass down and held my belly, willing it to settle. Miss Elyse handed me a mug of almond milk that she nuked for thirty seconds so it wasn’t too cold, and I sucked it down hoping it would get rid of the metallic taste and slimy mouthfeel. “Thank you, Miss Elyse,” I said, and she smiled, eyes darting over to Sasha like she didn’t want to be rude but couldn’t help looking at him.
I got it. He was a handsome dude.
A tall drink of mead, or whatever it is that Vikings go for. Grog? Ale? Lingonberry juice?
“I can’t believe you just drank that.” He looked like I felt.
“If it helps, it’s pretty much the worst one. Some of the others are even tasty.”
“And it actually helps you?”
“Yeah,” I said, sadly. “I really wish it didn’t because I can still taste it, but it actually works. Takes some time, but I’ll start feeling better.”
“I really just can’t believe you drank it.”
I sighed, trying to get my bag away then giving up and letting him carry it. “Don’t worry, it’s not like we’re going to be making out or anything. You aren’t going to have to taste it.” He made a sound I didn’t understand and I glanced over, found him glaring straight ahead with his brow furrowed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
A normal girl probably would have questioned him further, knowing he’s got something on his mind about the situation, but I’d already crossed a line in my brain with him and wasn’t willing to go further. That note.
That fucking note.
He sympathizes with me, wants to know if he can help.
It’s such a small thing, but Sasha— he’s not the type of guy who obeys social niceties, he means it. And although there are a lot of people who do things for me to help me get through the day, it’s their job. Nobody does it just because. Nobody offers to help just in general, open-ended and no strings. It would sound pathetic if I said it out loud to him, but him offering help… something shifted inside me, something moved out of the way to let him sneak by and into my gooey center, and now I had to learn to cope with a crush so raging that just walking beside him down the hall was sending me into heart palpitations.
Fuck. My. Life.
He walked me all the way to the door of my Stats class, then left me there with my backpack dangling from numb fingers, the feeling of his hand on my shoulder burning into my skin like a brand. He handed me the bag and cupped my shoulder in his big mitt and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it when he leaves me behind here and goes back to his real life.
But at least I’ll know he’s out there, happy and free, living his life. I’ll always be able to picture this moment, the feel of his hand, and know he’s doing something amazing far away from here, and it’ll be enough. It’ll keep me going.
Much like unplanned travel in game, the rest of Wednesday passed uneventfully. No wandering monsters. No random encounters.
HAH!
Stats was fine. Sev barely acknowledged my existence but peppered me with questions via text about the game, none of which I answered. Jason sits near Sev in the row closest to the door, and it should be noted that neither of them are anywhere near me — I always end up near the windows next to a pushy dude that I see at the game store who tries talking to me while the teacher is talking, and I have to tell him to shut the fuck up. It required effort then, that instead of leaving like a normal person, Jason crossed against traffic from the other side of the room just to pick up my bag and carry it for me when class ended.
We said all of three words to each other at our lockers and walked to Geography in comfortable silence. He handed me my bag at the door and took a seat, and I waved at Luka and Sasha but sat down next to Jason. A few seconds later, I had two blondes sitting to my left, one of them asking to borrow a pen and the other going on about having to punch somebody in the face and it wasn’t until the end of the story that I realized he punched the guy for talking shit about me.
“Wait, what?”
“This big, beefy dude that I’ve seen at lunch was talking out of his ass so I took him out.”
I looked around, utterly confused. “Danny Phillips,” Jason muttered under his breath as the teacher took roll call.
“You punched Danny Phillips in the face!” I practically shrieked at Luka.
“That’s what I’ve been saying for like the last five minutes!” he threw up his hands, exasperated.
“Luka, Danny Phillips is a fucking animal. He trains at the base with a guy who used to do MMA. He’s put a couple kids in the hospital, not even on purpose! Why would you hit him?”
“He said stuff about you.”
“So?!”
Luka leaned in to whisper loudly in my ear. “This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you but I’m going to say it just in case: you’re my friend. Nobody talks shit about my friends. Nobody. And he’s going to have a hard time saying anything now because his jaw is wired shut for the next few weeks.”
I blinked at him, speechless.
“Don’t worry about me, peanut,” he said, booping my nose and I grimaced at him, “I’m the bareknuckled boxing champion in my family.”
“I don’t know what that means, and I could probably take down Sev so I don’t know what you’re bragging about.”
His giggle turned into a loud guffaw, earning a glare from Mr. Kalkunen, and he reached over to boop my nose again and I smacked his hand away. “My family is a bit bigger than that, peaches.”
“Peaches? Peanut? What the hell?”
“Class before lunch. I’m hungry, and you’re adorable.”
I sat and stewed for the rest of the class, wondering what blow-back was certain to occur. Mr. K called me up after class — I thought to chew me out for being disruptive then distracted — but all he wanted was to find out why Matt was leaving the game and make sure it wasn’t for any bad reason. I told him Matt was moved to second shift for patrol and he nodded, started to make a suggestion, and I cut him off.
“It’s handled.”
His eyebrow went up. “Let me guess…” I shrugged, it wasn’t his call. “Azzie, I’m not sure about these boys, they came out of nowhere— no, just hear me out, Catherine and I are worried. You know she works at the hospital, and there’s something going on with all these twins, some study—”
“Ben, do you know anything concrete?” He shook his head. “Okay, well, it’s handled. All of it. I’m not stupid, okay?”
“You’re just—”
“Ben. Seriously.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, shuffling papers, not meeting my eye. “You should probably call me Mr. Kalkunen here,” he mumbled and I snorted.
“Yeah, and you probably shouldn’t hold me after class to talk about D&D,” I said, finally laughing awkwardly. “I gotta go, I need to eat something. And for real, don’t worry. I’m not falling for anything here. I realize they’re very tsunami-like but I’m very conscious of how…temporary this all is.”
He sighed, told me to be careful again, and I exited the classroom to find the halls bare and silent, so the cafeteria would be full. It would be unfair of me to make Miss Elyse stop what she’s doing mid-service to go make my lunch, so I decided to get all my stuff down to the Comp Sci room before I went back and got my food. I took my time at my locker before heading to the classroom, and was really glad the door was unlocked but the room was empty. I stashed my backpack under my normal desk, fussed around with a few things, then made my way to the cafeteria.
I’d completely forgotten about the run-in with Adriana and Gemma.
The cafeteria was packed, and there was this feeling of anticipation hanging over everything, like the moment before the beat drops while the music is still building. I don’t think I was crazy to think that it got quieter when I entered the room, and I glanced around at my classmates.
People were definitely staring.
Someone coughed, and was immediately silenced, and that was kinda fucked up. I stared
at all the eager faces, like carrion eaters waiting for their turn while a pack of lions decimate their kill, and held up a fist. Looking around, I slowly raised my middle finger, waved it in an arc, then dropped my arm and walked over to where Miss Elyse was stirring a huge tray of beef chop suey, shaking my head. Fucking freaks.
“Hi, Miss Azzie,” she said, looking concerned.
“Hey, Miss Elyse. Can you hook me up?” I smiled at her placidly, ignoring the hushed whispers behind me.
“I sure can, but girl? What did you do?”
“Just being my normal lovable self,” I assured her, and she clucked her tongue but turned to head to the back to mix up my smoothie. Just a regular one, thank God, I couldn’t take more liver right now.
“Hey,” a kid next to me hissed. I ignored him. “Azzie,” he said louder, but still trying to act like he wasn’t talking to me.
“Yeah?” I asked, normal volume, turning to him.
“They’ve got something planned, those new girls,” he said, still trying to be secretive.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied, turning back to stare into the hot bar, coveting that goddamned chop suey with its chunks of sautéed beef, all those snow peas and bean sprouts, and that thick gravy over rice…
“Hiya, sweetpea,” Luka appeared at my side like he’d bamfed here. “Come sit with us to eat.”
“Hey Luka,” I said tiredly. “Naw, I’m just going to go eat at my desk—”
“Azzie,” he interrupted, and his voice was more solemn than I’d ever heard from him before. “You need to come sit at our table, at least for a little while. Okay?”
I sighed. “Is this some kind of fucking power play? I’m done with this shit, Luka.”
“Azzie, please do what I ask. I said the magic word, you have to honor that.”
“Fine,” I groaned in frustration, making a face at him. “I’ll sit with you a few minutes, but it’s going to be fucking torture. I’m so damn sick of smoothies.”
Book of the Dead: AESLI-00: (A reverse harem, post-pandemic, slow-burn romance) (The JAK2 Cycle, Book 1) Page 13