My folks believed in cause and effect, rational science, and they would be horrified if they discovered how chaotic creation was and how much damage mankind had done. Then again, my mother was a cynic, so maybe she wouldn’t be surprised. For a few seconds, I stared at the ceiling, wishing I could tell them, show the marks, and share the whole story. But the line had been drawn between them and me; I could never again stand beside the blissfully ignorant. My eyes were open, and I couldn’t unsee the shadows on the wall.
In the morning, I skipped my run, remembering the hobnail boots. I’ll go after school. At Blackbriar, more people had on the mourning armbands and someone had posted pictures of Brittany all over her locker, sort of like a shrine. Cameron wasn’t around; neither was Allison, but Jen and Davina both waved at me. As I got my books, the headmaster made an announcement about the funeral, including time and place for services, and then he segued into the usual crap about fund-raisers and respect for school policy, which seemed irreverent. Yeah, yeah, dead girl, but what about the chocolate sale?
“Have you seen Russ?” Davina fell into step with me on my way to class.
“Not for a while.”
“People are pretty upset,” Jen said.
I nodded, trying to figure out why these two were hanging around with me. Granted, Allison and Brittany hadn’t offered many spots in the Teflon crew to the competition, so the guys outnumbered the girls. So maybe it was that they didn’t have anyone else?
“I still am,” Davina whispered. “God, it was just so…”
Awkwardly I patted her on the arm. In another minute, I’d be saying “there, there” and offering her a hot beverage. God, I sucked at social interaction with everyone but Kian. Sometimes it felt like he and I were two of the same species, stranded among aliens.
Jen said, “I’m glad she wasn’t alone, though. I think … it was kind of nice, wasn’t it? Right up until the end.”
“Would it be weird if we hung out?” Davina asked. “The three of us. I don’t want that to be the last thing we do together. That probably sounds strange and superstitious.”
Jen looked as if she was relieved Davina had suggested it. “If you want, you guys can come over on Friday.”
Is she seriously inviting me to a sleepover? Brittany dies, and … But honestly, I had no idea how to parse this, no frame of reference for how freaked I should be. Greg the Grief Counselor said I shouldn’t be ashamed of my feelings, whatever they were. Mostly, I was sad and confused, interspersed with fear and guilt. It had to be a coincidence, bad luck, karma.
“I don’t have any plans,” I said aloud.
“Tell me what kind of movies you like to watch and I’ll take a look on Netflix.” Jen seemed a little more cheerful, smiling at Davina and me.
“Romantic comedies,” she said, just as I answered, “Science fiction, any kind.”
“Even bad ones, like Sharknado?”
I grinned. “I’d watch it again.”
“Then I’ll find a good rom-com and a bad sci-fi. Sound fun? We can drink to Brit and talk about stuff.”
“Awesome,” Davina said. “Kind of like a wake.”
Jen nodded. “I guess.”
“I don’t know how many stories I can contribute,” I warned them.
Most of my experiences with her weren’t positive. I wasn’t happy something so horrible had happened to her, just the opposite, but I had no funny, adorable anecdotes waiting in the hopper, either.
I shifted uncomfortably while Davina studied me. “Doesn’t matter. You were there, so you need to come. Catharsis.”
“Okay. You talked me into it.”
“You can ride home with me. So tell your super-hot boyfriend he doesn’t need to pick you up.” Jen was smiling, though, and not using the bitchy tone Allison would’ve imparted to the comment.
“I will. Catch you guys at lunch.”
We split then and I went to first period, where Mr. Love was smoldering at the girls who had doubtless turned up half an hour early in hopes of getting time alone with him. The problem was, like, seven of them had the same idea today. That guy’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Yet I couldn’t say he was looking at them inappropriately, just radiating a Lord Byron poetic intensity and talking with just the right hint of pretension.
“You look fetching today, Edie.”
“Do I?” I glanced down at myself, seeing the same uniform and the same hairstyle I’d been wearing since the start of school.
“I hate that girl,” Nicole whispered, she of tongue and cherry-stem introduction fame.
Maybe I should let it go … but no. I didn’t turn over a new leaf and infiltrate the Teflon crew just to let other people roll over me. So I dropped my backpack on my desk and strolled over to her desk.
“Why?” I asked politely.
“Excuse me?” Her eyes went wide, as she glanced at friends on either side.
“You just said you hate me. I’m asking why. Or am I supposed to pretend I didn’t hear you?”
Before she could answer, the cause of our problems intervened. “Girls, it’s almost time for class to begin. Find your seats, please.”
Yet as I sat down and got out my notebook, I noticed a pleased gleam in Mr. Love’s eyes. With proper encouragement, his female students would fight over him in earnest. When I went to snap at Nicole, I didn’t even care about his tousled hair or stupid smile. God help those who did.
His lecture was interesting, per usual, and we discussed the imagery in a poem. I’d always found “La Belle Dame Sans Merci” to be overrated and somewhat misogynistic. The knightly ass had no more style than to hump a woman in a hedge, and then wondered why she left him? Fairy bullshit allegory aside, his behavior answered the question.
Afterward, I waited until the rest of the class had gone. Pausing at his desk, I stared hard at Mr. Love, who stirred beneath my scrutiny. “Is something wrong?”
The tinnitus kicked in, and it only happened when I got close to something inhuman, monstrous, or immortal. I slammed a palm on his desk and muttered, “I know what you are.”
Well, not exactly. Not yet. But his presence meant trouble and Very Bad Things.
“I beg your pardon?” He wore innocence like a white mantle, dusted in gold.
No matter. That was all I said; it was enough. Gauntlet thrown, I hurried to my next class, hoping I hadn’t just made a huge mistake.
On Thursday, I went to Brittany’s funeral. Pretty much the whole school did, and they gave us a half day, I suspected because the Kings had donated a lot of money to Blackbriar over the years. It was a closed-casket service with pictures of her on top of the coffin. Brittany’s younger sister sang and Allison tried to deliver the eulogy, but she broke down halfway through her speech. Cameron sat with Brittany’s parents up front, and he looked worse than he had the other day, like he wasn’t sleeping at all.
After the services, I paid my respects to the family and Mrs. King hugged me. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” That felt like the wrong response, but I didn’t know what else to say. I stood for thirty seconds, letting her hug me and then I stepped back. No matter what Kian said, I still felt guilty. My head felt like scrambled eggs, and I was full of crazy theories, like what if I asked for the power to make the Teflon crew pay, and then my third wish was for a memory wipe of that request, so I didn’t have to live with the guilt. Surreptitiously, I checked my wrist. Only one hash mark atop the infinity symbol.