Black Iris (28 page)

Even in my fugue, this struck me as odd. “What?”

“My friend the doctor took care of it. He called in a favor.”

I gaped. “You covered your ass. You anticipated this.”

Z said nothing.

“Don’t you feel the least bit sorry? A human being is dead because of us. My fucking mother.”

“You don’t see the gift I’ve given you, Laney. You’re free.”

I stared a moment longer. Then I flew at him.

It was pointless. He was twice my size. I was weak and crazed. He spun me around, crushed me to his chest, his hard body. I recoiled.

“You sick fuck. You actually think this was a good thing.”

“I set you free. You don’t see it now, but you will.”

I bit his hand, hot red salt. He let me go.

“Is this what you wanted all along?” I screamed. “To make me kill her? Was this all some sick game? Pretending to like me, messing with my head?”

Only once did I ever see Zoeller look regretful, and it was then. His bloodied hand hung at his side, forgotten. There was something almost rueful in those dead green eyes.

“Smart girl.”

A chill went through me.

“Look back, Laney. Think hard. Did you really believe Luke could organize that anti-bullying shit? Did you believe Kelsey actually wanted to fuck you? That she’d ever tell her asshole dad?”

An ax lodged in my chest, snapping through me rib by rib.

“Did you believe I was starting to care?” He moved closer, gazing down at me. “Letting you in, trusting you? Sharing my thoughts and feelings?” His face was too close to mine, his breath cold and scentless. “Did you believe I fucked you because I felt something?”

I couldn’t speak.

“I don’t give a shit about you. I just wanted to see how far you’d go.” Zoeller laughed. “You killed your mom. For me. Because of me. What a psycho.”

I looked around the trailer for something sharp. “You are dead. I’ll fucking kill
you
.”

His hands shot out, clamping onto my shoulders, and I fought but there was no point. He put me on the couch where he wanted, under him. This is not even happening, I thought. This is some nightmare. Not real.

“Look at me,” he said. I looked. “Now say it. Say, ‘You ruined my life.’ ”

I didn’t want to be here anymore. In this sad little scene. In my body, in this universe.

“Laney.”

His voice was a hiss. He put his mouth near my ear.

“Say it. For the camera.”

Another chill. Deeper.

“You ruined my life,” I said, robotically.

Zoeller’s arms flexed, drawing me closer. “If you want to know why, find Artemis and Apollo.” He pressed a finger into the hollow of my throat and traced something. Two circles. One big, one small, eating the other. “Figure it out. You’re a smart girl.”

I stared at the fluorescent tube overhead. His body lifted, his shadow sliding over me. Then he left the trailer, left me alone in the light.

JULY, LAST YEAR

I
handed Josh the flask of Jack, grinning. “C’mon, you wimp. I’m like one-quarter your size. You can’t quit already.”

He made a sour face and sipped. “I’m gonna puke, Laney.”

“Not on me.” I rolled to the other side of the mattress.

I was in Josh’s room at the Lincoln Park house, sprawling on his bed, watching
Game of Thrones
. Every time we saw tits, we took a drink.

Fifteen minutes into this ep and we were sloshed.

“You remind me of Varys,” Josh said.

“Are you calling me a eunuch?”

“No, you just—you know things. You’re like the spider at the center of the web, pulling all the threads.”

I raised an eyebrow enigmatically.

When Josh no longer resembled the next stop on the Vomit Comet I slung my leg across his, nonchalant. Then an arm. Then I was atop him. He bit his lip, put his hands on my breasts.

“I don’t think you really like this,” he said.

“Shut up. Let’s make out.”

He held me, but tentatively. “Can I ask you something? I apologize in advance if it offends you.”

Oh god. Here we go.

“Are you gay?”

I flung myself off him. Pressed my face into the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” Josh said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Offend me. I know. You haven’t.” I raised my head. “You’re a good guy, Josh.”

He eyed me cautiously, that broad face kind, open.

“I’m not gay,” I said. “I wish I was.”

“Why?”

I flipped over, air puffing out of me. “I wish there was one word for what I am. That would be so much easier. People would still hate me, but at least I could say, ‘You hate me because I’m gay,’ not, ‘You hate me because I’m a five on the Kinsey scale, and sometimes I fuck guys but I’ve only fallen in love with girls.’ ”

Josh paused the TV, the screen dimming.

“If I was gay,” I told the ceiling, “I wouldn’t need an asterisk beside my name. I could stop worrying if the girl I like will bounce when she finds out I also like dick. I could have a coming-out party without people thinking I just want attention. I wouldn’t have to explain that I fall in love with minds, not genders or body parts. People wouldn’t say I’m ‘just a slut’ or ‘faking it’ or ‘undecided’ or ‘confused.’ I’m not confused. I don’t categorize people by who I’m allowed to like and who I’m allowed to love. Love doesn’t fit into boxes like that. It’s blurry, slippery, quantum. It’s only limited by our perceptions and before we slap a label on it and cram it into some category, everything is possible.” I glanced at Josh. “That’s me. I’m not gay, not bi. I’m something quantum. I can’t define it.”

“You’re just human.”

I started to laugh. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. You are the first guy I’ve met who gets it.”

What a bitch I was, using him.

But as the girl I was falling in love with would tell me someday: a bitch is a woman who gets what she wants.

“My turn.” I sat up, cross-legged. “Explain why you’re in
a frat when you’re way too intelligent and open-minded for these assholes.”

We talked late into the night, lying together on his bed, and it never felt awkward. It was like chilling with my brother. I turned it in my hands, the invisible Rubik’s cube Z had left me with. Pieces were beginning to line up. I wandered around Josh’s room, scanning his bookshelves. Lots of YA, surprisingly. Lots of John Green, unsurprisingly. The literature of sensitive nerds nursing crushes on manic pixie dream girls. I grabbed a money clip from the bureau with his ID.

“Let’s see your school photo.”

“Oh god. Laney, please.”

My thumb brushed the eclipse symbol on the clip. “I’ve seen this before. This is from Umbra.”

“You go to Umbra?”

“I’m friends with DJ Apollo.”

Instantly his demeanor changed. He came to my side, frowning, tense. “Apollo? Are you serious?”

I flipped the clip back onto the dresser. “What, is he like some major douchebag?”

Josh’s eyes darted after that silver gleam.

I watched him struggle. That’s the hardest part, letting them fall on their own. Not pushing. His reservations buckled under the bond we’d built.

“Come sit down,” he said.

We sat.

“I’m going to tell you something you can’t tell anyone else. Anyone. It could get me in massive trouble, but I think it’s right for you to know. You’re not safe with him.”

“Who?”

“Apollo.”

“What? Why?”

“Laney, do you know what Eclipse is?”

I glanced again at the money clip.

“It’s a secret society at Corgan. Most of them are members of Pi Tau. You know, rich kids, all-star athletes. It’s very prestigious. They recruit guys still in high school, groom them to become masters of the universe. If you’re tapped your life is pretty much set.” Josh sighed. “My dad was a member, so I am, too, but I hate it. A lot of them are bigots. They talk shit about gays, women, people of color. It’s like a locker room. Anyway, you make connections. Business, politics. Nothing outright evil, just sort of unethical. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. But they do some really messed up stuff, too. Hazing. Stuff that ends up hurting people. Innocent people.”

“Okay,” I said. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Apollo is the leader. And he hates girls like you.”

“Girls like what?”

“Girls who like other girls.”

MARCH, THIS YEAR

I
found a dusty glass at the bar and brought it back to the circle. It felt like we were in the center of the Earth, far from the din of Umbra above.

Long ago I’d decided my villainy would not extend to things like tying people to chairs, remote detonators, final countdowns, etc. Our feelings for each other were the only tools I needed to make this hurt.

Well, and the gun. Just to make sure.

“Armin,” I said, settling the .45 in my lap.

“Truth.”

“Good boy. When did you first meet Brandt Zoeller?”

His teeth flashed in a grimace. “We don’t have to do it like this, Laney.”

“But this is more fun. Don’t you agree, Blythe?”

She looked troubled. It was rare to see her wrestling with something inwardly, something that didn’t simply explode from her in a burst of truth. What was I missing?

“You already know,” Armin said.

“But I want to hear you say it.”

His teeth ground harder.

“You seem tense. You need a drink.” I unscrewed the bottle, poured a finger of tequila into the glass. “Bottoms up, Apollo.”

He downed it without hesitation.

“Never take drinks from strangers,” I chided.

“What’s in it?”

“That’s not the drink you should’ve worried about.”

He frowned at me, then at Blythe. She averted her face.

“So,” I said. “We were discussing Zoeller.”

“Laney, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

Veins bulged in his neck. An ugly pain kept twisting up his throat, creeping into his jaw, but he fought it back. “It was a mistake. I wasn’t myself. I’m sorry. I am so—”

I stomped my foot, startling them both. “Give it a rest. This isn’t drama club. It’s AV club. Let’s watch a short film, boys and girls.”

I played a video on my phone and tossed it onto the floor between us. It spun, tiny voices whirling from the tiny speaker. I’d seen it a hundred times.

On the screen, a gangly teenage boy knelt before a man in a black robe. Candles, flickering shadows. This very same room we were in. The man in the robe wore a deep hood, his face a hole. He spoke in a familiar rasping voice.
Initiate, your brothers charge you to swear a sacred oath . . .

“Christ,” Blythe said, leaning closer.

Armin didn’t look at the phone. His gaze locked with mine. “Turn it off. Let’s talk. I didn’t—”

“Shhh. No spoilers.”

The first boy was charged to score a blowjob from Blythe.

The second boy was charged to have anal sex with Elle.

The third boy was Zoeller.

Blythe watched the screen, her eyes apocalyptic. Armin looked like a cornered animal.

Initiate
, the man in the robe said,
your brothers charge you to swear a sacred oath of fealty beneath the umbra that darkens the sun. Will you pledge your shadow to us, brother?

Zoeller looked up.
Yes, my lord. How may I serve?

The robed man paused. With the others his words had been stylized, scripted, but now a spasm of emotion racked him. Maybe he was responding to the zeal in Brandt’s eyes. He shed the formality.

You’re young, initiate.

Yes, my lord.

Your father sent you to us early. He fears you are on a wayward path.
The robed man shook his head.
But I don’t see callowness. I see virility. I see strength.

Zoeller bowed his head humbly.

Show me that I’m not wrong, initiate. You will demonstrate what befalls liars and deceivers. Find a girl. Find one of those fucking dykes, one who denies it. Seduce her. Fuck her. Ruin her. Take everything from her, everything she cares about. Make her regret what she is. Do you understand?

Zoeller’s eyes shone.
Yes, my lord.

Initiate
, the robed man said.

My lord?

Make it hurt.

The video ended.

For a second none of us looked at each other. It was too much, this undoing.

I made myself meet Armin’s eyes.

His face was no different. Still the gentle, handsome boy I’d always known. But there were tears in those eyes now, a film of gold gel in the candlelight.

“Armin,” Blythe said, then clenched her fists on her knees, shuddering, as if holding in a terrible violence.

“When did you realize it was me?” I said. “The girl he found.”

“Last year.” His words were thin and torn, falling apart in the air like cobwebs. He was a ghost of the man in the video. “Truth or dare. When you said his name.”

“Did you suspect before then?”

“Yes. But it could have been coincidence. I wanted it to be coincidence. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, Laney.”

“All of this was because of
you
,” Blythe snarled.

“Because of
you
,” Armin shot back. “Because of what you did to me, Blythe. For an entire year. Behind my back, in front of my face.”

“It was a fucking mistake. I can’t keep apologizing my whole fucking life.”

“Who was the mistake, me or Elle?”

“Bloody both of you. It doesn’t matter. It didn’t give you the right to do this.”

“No, it made me crazy with pain. It made me do something I regret with all my heart.”

“You don’t know what craziness is.”

“I do. It’s love. I fucking loved you.”

They were screaming at each other. I’d never heard Armin raise his voice like this.

“Do you realize you told him to violate her?”

“I was violated, Blythe. What you did to me, that was a violation. You betrayed me. Physically. Emotionally. With that lying snake, that disgusting—” He bit his tongue.

She stared at him coldly. “So you told a bloody sociopath to hurt some random girl. This girl.
My
girl.”

“Laney,” Armin said, his sudden quiet contrasting against Blythe’s fury, “what did Zoeller do to you?”

Showed me I’m a monster.

“Exactly what you told him to. Seduced me, fucked me.” I laughed. “He didn’t ruin me, though. I ruined myself.”

They both grimaced, her indignant, him elegiac.

“I’ll go to the police,” Armin said. “I’ll tell them everything. He can still be put away.”

“For what?” I rocked back on my chair. “He never hurt me.”

“The searches on my computer. Your symptoms—”

“Come on, Armin. The Internet is a how-to guide for faking anything.” I balanced one shoe atop the other, jauntily. “It’s such a cliché. The damaged girl must have sexual trauma in her past, right? Give me a break. Plot twist: there was no rape. I fucked Zoeller because I wanted to. I’m not sexually traumatized, I’m just messed up.”

I scooted my chair closer with a screech. He jumped.

“But you. You’re pretty messed up, too, aren’t you? You told a psycho to go after a queer. They have a legal term for that.” I pointed the gun at him like a blaming finger. “You made him target me because of what I am, not who I am. That’s a hate crime.”

Blythe was breathing so hard I could hear it. A candle nearby stirred, lashing her with light.

“I was out of my mind. It seemed like the whole world went crazy.” Armin’s voice was ruminative, the anger gone. He spoke now to Blythe. “Everyone sympathized with you. They called you brave. Your cheating was ‘brave’ because it was with a girl. It was okay that you hurt me because you were discovering yourself, and I was just a man, no one to take seriously. Another notch on your belt. I felt subhuman. Like you thought I deserved to be hurt because of what I am.” He met my eyes soberly. “So I made someone hurt you because of what you are. I couldn’t break the cycle.”

Blythe snared her hands in her hair, ready to snap.

“Jeez,” I said, my tone light. “Everyone looks so depressed. Let’s have a drink.”

I filled the glass and took a long slug. Blythe next. When it came to Armin he stared at it.

“What did you mean about not taking drinks from strangers?”

“Smart boy. You’re learning.”

“What is it you want me to do? Tell me, Laney. Anything.”

“I don’t want you to do anything. I want you to feel.” I reached out, grazing his hand. “It’s going to hurt. I’ve been through it. Withdrawal feels like the worst depression you’ve ever known.”

Armin frowned.

“They call the comedown ‘Suicide Tuesday.’ My mother died on a Tuesday. It’s sort of fitting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about chronic MDMA abuse and what happens when you quit cold turkey.”

He stared at me, expressionless.

I gestured with the gun. “Let’s review, class. Ecstasy unleashes a shit ton of serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine into the brain. It makes you feel amazing. Awake, sensitive, turned on. In love with the whole world and everyone in it. Those neurotransmitters trigger the release of testosterone and oxytocin. Sex and love hormones, basically. You’ll say, ‘You make me feel high, Laney.’ Intoxicated. Pure, dizzying bliss. Like we’re some Adam and Eve in a dangerous paradise. Remember? You’ll drink anything I give you, because I’m the broken little doll who needs a big strong boy to fix her, and that feels so fucking good after Blythe dumped you for a girl. Sometimes when you fuck me, you’ll really be fucking her in your head. But that’s okay. I am, too.”

Armin leaned away from me, the tension in his body slackening, becoming shock.

“I got you up to three doses a week. MDMA dissolves in liquid, but leaves a bitter aftertaste. Red Bull isn’t really that nasty.” I shrugged. “Withdrawal is different for everyone, but your serotonin has been continually depleted for months. You’ve been growing more agitated, anxious, depressed between
doses. You thought it was because of this secret guilt you’ve been nursing, but actually it’s science. Your neurochemistry is severely fucked, Armin. And it will be for a long, long time.”

He was totally still. Only his chest moved. Shallow breaths. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“It’s sick, but it’s no joke.” Every time I pointed at him with the gun, he flinched. “I wanted you to feel what it’s like when someone screws up your brain. I wanted you to feel the highs and the lows. Especially the lows. She’s dead because of you and Zoeller. You gave him the poison to put in her head. Now you have a literal taste of your own medicine.”

“I didn’t know what he would do.”

“You gave him the fucking pills. What did you think he’d do?”

“I had no choice.” Armin looked at the glass trembling in his hands. “Zoeller threatened to tell Blythe everything. He would’ve hurt her, too. He doesn’t care who he hurts. He’s a rabid dog. I thought it’d be harmless. For most people, antidepressants are harmless.”

I sat back in my chair. “So you got my mom killed so your ex-girlfriend wouldn’t find out you’re a homophobe. Un-fucking-believable.”

“I’m not responsible for your mother’s death. It was tragic, and I’m deeply sorry, but she committed the act.”

“I bet a court would see it differently.”

“Do you want to take it there? Put us all on trial, including yourself?”

I ignored his question. “You shoved a loaded gun in someone’s hands and said, ‘I’m not responsible if she pulls the trigger.’ ”

“No one forced her. She needed serious help. She—”

I knocked the glass from his hand with the gun. It burst on the floor, filling the air with honeyed musk. “You don’t get
to say that. You don’t get to say what she needed. You don’t fucking know what it was like.”

“I do know, Laney. I’ve seen Blythe when she’s rapid cycling. I bet she didn’t talk about that much. How many times I coaxed her down from the ledge, how many ‘doctor’s notes’ I wrote that could’ve cost my career if anyone questioned them. I know what it’s like to care for someone who isn’t always herself.”

Blythe wasn’t looking at either of us. She held one fist to her mouth and bit her knuckles.

“She’s always herself,” I said. “The illness is part of her. Part of us both. You will never understand that.”

“I won’t argue with you. But in the end, it was your mother’s choice. Words and care can only do so much. That’s why you did this to me with chemicals, with God knows what. Laney,
you
could have killed
me
.”

“Isn’t it beautiful when things come full circle?”

“Why did you sleep with me?” His voice roughened. “You could have drugged me without any fake romance.”

His pain made me feel strange. It made my pulse race, but not in the pleasurable way I’d hoped. It was the sick acceleration of nausea. “Seduce him,” I said doggedly. “Fuck him. Ruin him. Make it hurt.”

Armin looked from me to Blythe, another wave of pain crashing through his face, breaking.

“Blythe,” he whispered.

She wouldn’t look at him.

“Blythe, did you know she drugged me? Were you in on it?”

“Don’t blame her,” I said. “No matter how she hurt you, it doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“Did you plan it together? Get me high and fuck me so you could both break my heart?”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

“What?” I said, and Armin said, “Tell her.”

Blythe’s face twisted, her fingers clawing at her knees.

“Tell her.”

“Tell me,” I said, softly.

She turned her head. I knew her so well. She didn’t have to say it.

“Blythe.” Keep breathing. Steady, even. “Truth or dare?”

“Don’t.”

“Truth or fucking dare.”

“It didn’t mean anything. It was just—”

“Fucking pick.”

“Truth. Blythe, did you fuck him. Yes, Laney, I fucked him.” She hurled it at me like handfuls of broken glass. “Christ, I fucked him, okay?”

“When?” My voice was oddly calm.

“After you and me.”

“When?”

“Valentine’s.”

Something tore in me, a tight, neat rip, deep inside.

“How many times?”

“Once. Once, I swear to God. It didn’t mean anything. I did it for you.” She laughed, gruesome. “I know how it sounds, but I hated it. I hated that you were with him instead of me. It made me sick, like swallowing poison every day, black and vile. He’s so bloody infatuated with me he promised he’d stop seeing you if I slept with him. I was going mad. I could smell you on him. On his clothes, his skin. I wanted to kill you both.”