We Know It Was You (31 page)

“Ah,” Gottfried said, surprised. “I am sinking you are Zaire.”

“She thought I was you,” Virginia said back. “You're meant for each other.”

Gottfried's room was a mess. It was pretty much the opposite of Zaire's room, which was neat and organized and full of expensive things. Gottfried's floor was scattered with junk-food wrappers, notebooks, and posters of German metal bands that had fallen from the wall. It was like looking into both of their minds: Zaire's resembled a well-curated museum; Gottfried's resembled a knocked-over garbage can lived in by a raccoon.

“You need to stop hooking up with Zaire,” Virginia said bluntly. “She can't get over you, and it's turning her into a bitch.”

Gottfried looked confused. “What?”

“Hooking up? It means, like, having sex?” Virginia explained awkwardly.

Gottfried nodded. “
Ja
, I know. But me and Zaire, we are just friends.”

“I saw you.”

“What?”

Virginia lowered her voice, remembering that Zaire was
in the room right below. “I know it's hard, because she throws herself at you. But you have to say no. You have to be really firm. No.
Nein
.”

“Ehh, we broke up long ago,” Gottfried said, looking embarrassed. “We do not have da sex.”

“But she—I saw—” Virginia stopped talking. Without another word to Gottfried, she turned and went back downstairs. She glanced at Zaire's door. It was closed. Then she went into her own room and picked up her phone. She dialed the number of Benny's cell.

“Heelllo? Are you okay?” Benny's voice was raspy and sleep-steeped.

“I'm fine. Do you want to hear something weird? Zaire's been hypnotizing Gottfried.”

“Yeah I know,” Benny said, still sounding groggy. “He has insomnia. Hypnotism is actually a very effective technique—”

“No,” Virginia interrupted. “She's hypnotizing him to hook up with her. To have sex with her.”

She could barely bring herself to say the actual words: “She's raping him.”

Saturday

The Boarders, 7:00 a.m.

The sky was a sheet of thin gray clouds, soon to be dispersed by the rising sun. A dim gold line ran across the horizon. It was colder than Benny expected. He shivered and rubbed his arms, watching his mom's Subaru disappear around the corner. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep after Virginia's call. “She's raping him.” The words had hit him like a tidal wave. The words were staggering. Who
was
this girl? What did she want—dominion over every person in school? And what was Benny supposed to do about it? Put a lock on Virginia's door and let Zaire continue on her path of destruction?

He was halfway up the steps to the Boarders when he noticed a weird shadow next to the magnolia tree. He stared at it, and an outline slowly emerged before his eyes. It looked like the silhouette of an old-timey soldier. For a second Benny thought it was a cardboard cutout.

But then it moved.

“Hello?” Benny called out.

A figure stepped forward. It took Benny a moment to recognize Winn Davis. He was clutching his old Civil War rifle, like he'd come to protect the Boarders from Yankee assault. Yellow light from the rising sun created a golden halo around his already golden head. What was he doing here? According to Virginia, he'd been picked up by the police last night for pummeling Min-Jun. Had they just let him go? Benny supposed they would have had to if Min-Jun had chosen not to press charges, which was smart under the circumstances. But why hadn't Winn just gone home? Why was he loitering around the Boarders at seven a.m.? Was he waiting for
him
?

“Hi . . . ,” Benny said hesitantly.

Winn said nothing.

“What's up? What are you doing here?”

Winn continued to stare at him. Benny started to panic. Was this about the tire slashing? Did Winn somehow know that he knew? Benny quickly rehearsed a small speech in his mind:
I won't tell anyone, I promise. It's not a big deal. What do I care if a bunch of spoiled rich kids get their cars damaged? Just leave me alone.

“I think my girlfriend's cheating on me,” Winn said suddenly, stepping closer. Benny eyed the rifle in his arms. The thing was more than one hundred and fifty years old; it couldn't actually shoot, could it? Not that it mattered if it could shoot. The point of the bayonet could easily pierce him through. He wanted to run, but felt oddly frozen.

“Oh . . . ,” he said. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“With that German guy. And a Chinese guy.”

“That's very . . . international,” Benny managed.

“She's a whore.”

Whoa,
Benny thought. He glanced at Winn's rifle again. Winn was stroking it like it was a docile pet. And there was something scarier about that than if Winn had been pointing it straight at his head. Benny looked toward the road, praying that, for some random reason, his mom would come back. But the road was empty.

“You want my girlfriend too,” Winn said. His voice was flat and expressionless. “I've seen you with her.”

“Noooo, no no no,” Benny said quickly. “I do not want her, I swear.”

“Then you're a fag.” Winn adjusted the rifle in his arms. It was almost like he was hugging it. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied. And Benny could see tiny dots of splattered blood all over Winn's face and clothes. Benny's heart slammed in his chest, imagining the kind of punches that would produce such a spray of red. It wasn't fair—Winn had the fists of a street fighter
and
a gun. Benny had nothing. Benny was going to die.

“So . . . what brings you to the Boarders?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing.

“My girlfriend's in there,” Winn answered, taking another step toward him. Benny felt the stone wall against his legs and realized he couldn't back up any farther. He
glanced over his shoulder at the Boarders. It was gloomy in the early morning light. He willed the sun to rise faster, as if the morning light would save him.

“Huh. Okay. Well. Are you sure she's not at home? It's kind of early.”

“Are you trying to mess with me?” Winn asked flatly.

“No. Huh? No no no.”

“How stupid are you to mess with me?” He raised the gun, pointing it vaguely at Benny's head.

“Please put that down,” Benny said. “It's dangerous.”

Winn didn't put it down.

I should scream,
Benny thought.
I should scream right now and run
. But he knew he wouldn't; he knew himself. He would stand right there and get shot by a football player and die. It was who he was.
Shut up,
he told himself.
Stop freaking out.

He looked from the gun to Winn's face. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but his eyes looked glazed and deadened. He was either really stoned, or . . .

“Winn, who's your girlfriend?”

“Corny.” He answered without hesitation.

“And what does Corny look like?”

“She's pretty. She has blond hair.”

Benny frowned. Blond hair didn't really narrow it down. “What's her most . . .
remarkable
feature?” he asked delicately.

Winn shrugged. He lowered the gun a little. “She's pretty.”

“I know, but . . .” Benny felt his cheeks getting hot. “What I mean is, is she quite . . . well endowed?”

Winn blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Does she have really big . . .
boobs
?” Benny said bluntly, holding his hands out to indicate large handfuls of breast.

Winn looked confused. “I don't . . . I dunno, bro. . . . She's pretty. She's in there.” He pointed with his gun toward the Boarders. “Guys just won't quit. Don't they know she has a boyfriend?”

She has a boyfriend.

Suddenly a lot of things made sense, things Benny hadn't even been thinking about. The pom-poms at Virginia's door. The yellow rose, the notes on their lockers. Corny wearing Virginia's perfume. And now the fact that Winn couldn't seem to remember whether his girlfriend had huge boobs or not.
For god's sake, Zaire,
he thought.
Is there no end to the reach of your arm?

“Listen, Winn,” Benny said calmly. “Put the gun down. I think I know what's going on. I know you're worried about Corny. But I was just talking to her, and she loves you. You're the only one she loves. She doesn't care about Gottfried or that Chinese guy.”

“But they'll still try to fuck her!” Winn cried. His glazed mask of a face suddenly contorted with emotion. “I have to keep them away from her! I have to watch her!”

“You look exhausted,” Benny persisted, trying to imitate the soothing tone Zaire used onstage with the cheerleaders.
“You need to go home and go to sleep. Go home. Go home.”

Winn appeared to consider it dimly. He started nodding his head, but then it sort of morphed into a shake. “No. I gotta stay here.” He stared at the ground. For a second Benny wondered if he might have fallen asleep standing up.

“Winn?” Benny snapped his fingers. “Winn? Are you listening.”

Winn said, “Yeah.”

“I think you need a break,” Benny said. “Let me take care of Corny. I'll guard her.”

Winn looked him up and down, and Benny could read the foggy conflict in his mind. Benny knew he presented as wimpy. He had the classic signifiers: glasses, curly hair, dorky clothes. He'd never felt the need to broadcast masculinity before; it seemed like something only insecure guys did. Except now he needed Winn to trust that he was man enough to take care of his woman.

“I have a brown belt,” he said, which wasn't a lie, but of course a brown belt in aikido didn't mean the same thing as a brown belt in karate or tegumi. Aikido was mostly about mental training and achieving spiritual harmony, and the moves were all defensive. Benny didn't know how to beat someone's brains out. He really didn't want to know.

“Listen, Winn, I've got this.” Benny did a quick ax kick that had nothing to do with aikido, but at least it looked impressive. This was definitely the weirdest moment of his life: doing bad karate at seven in the morning to convince
a half-stupefied football player holding a gun that he could protect Corny Davenport, who wasn't even there, from a harmless German exchange student.

Winn was drooling slightly, apparently overwhelmed by the amount of thinking Benny was demanding of him. Benny wished he knew his trigger so he could snap him out of this trance and get him out of there.

“I'm your bro, Winn. Bros stick together.” Benny grimaced slightly, feeling like ten thousand of his brain cells died every time he said the word “bro.” But it seemed to be working. Winn was nodding again.

“Bros,” Winn affirmed vaguely.

“Best bros!” Benny exclaimed.

“What's your name again?” Winn was squinting at him.

“I'm Benny Flax. Is that your car?” He nodded toward a blue BMW parked behind a magnolia tree.

Winn nodded.

“Okay, well you just drive on home and get some sleep, okay? I'll make sure no guys—foreign or otherwise—lay a hand on Corny. Okay? She loves you. Don't forget it.”

“Okay. Thanks, bro,” Winn said, reaching out and enveloping Benny in a tight hug. Benny stiffened reflexively. The rifle was squeezed between their chests, jabbing Benny's ribs. The hug lasted what felt like an abnormally long time.

Then Winn pulled away and shuffled off toward the car, the rifle's barrel bobbing on his shoulder. Benny watched
him turn on the ignition, and kept watching until the taillights had disappeared around the corner.

Benny took out his phone and dialed Virginia's room number. She picked up after one ring.

“Benny?” she said immediately.

“Yeah,” Benny answered. “Come outside right now.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm out front. I think Winn Davis has been stalking you.” Benny heard a snort of laughter. “I'm serious. Come outside and I'll explain.”

The Boarders front porch, 7:45 a.m.

The sun was coming out, its glow obliterating the gray veneer of clouds. It felt the same in Benny's mind—the truth radiating and dispersing everything in its path.

A black town car had pulled up to the Boarders and was parked a ways away, apparently waiting for someone. The driver leaned against the front door looking at his phone. Benny watched him suspiciously, but the man didn't seem to have any interest in him.

Virginia came outside, wearing pajamas. He'd never seen a real-life girl in her pajamas before. They were light blue with little cowboy hats stitched on them. The shorts were too small, he couldn't help noticing. Almost her entire leg was showing as she plunked down next to him on the front steps, still bruised and scabbed and covered in Band-Aids from her fall last night. It was something he'd noticed
before about Virginia's clothes—they were always a little too small. He'd assumed she was just following the style; all the girls at Winship wore their skirts as short as they could get away with. But now he suspected it was because her clothes were all old, that she'd outgrown them, that no one had bought her any new ones.

“What's going on?” she asked. She sounded alert, but her eyes were puffy and tired.

“Whisper,” Benny whispered. He nodded toward the house. “Zaire.”

“Oh, she's not here,” Virginia said. “I just passed her room. It was empty, and her door was wide open.”

“Whisper anyway. Listen, this is all Zaire. Everything weird, everything crazy, it's all her. I think she hypnotized Winn into thinking you're his girlfriend so he'd keep you away from Gottfried. Zaire thinks you like him. She's jealous.”

“Wait. Oh my God,” Virginia groaned.

“What? What?”