Twice Shy (10 page)

He shrugged, but his eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh. He ditched me again."

"At least you know him. My dad abandoned us when I was an infant."
But not before he went cannibal and Mom blew his head off.

"I know. And that sucks… But you can't let it eat you up inside. You squeeze what good you can out of life. Good choices lead to good places."

You've been drinking the Guidance Department Kool-Aid.
"You mean like abandoning your childhood friend when she's no longer one of the cool kids? That kind of good choice?"

Mike stiffened. "You know what? I don't need this. I was trying to help." He took off at a jog, leaving her behind.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP!" she screamed.

I need a cure, dammit.

*  *  *

When she got home, her mom had left a note that she'd gone to the store. She came back loaded with produce and a bag full of Boston Market.

"What's that, Mom?" Ani grabbed the Boston Market bag and put it on the counter.

"Tomorrow's dinner. No point in cooking a whole turkey just for me."

Ani looked at her mom, then at the bag, and then at the floor. "That sucks."

Her mom smiled. "Hey, one day, when you can eat without having to manually flush out your system afterward, we'll cook an outright Thanksgiving feast and gorge ourselves until we burst."

"Sounds appealing," she said, putting the bananas on the counter and the rest of the food in the fridge.

"It'll be great. In the meantime, why don't we get some work done in the basement?"

Thanksgiving agenda: piss off the only boy you like, perform medical experiments on yourself, sleep in a furnace. Awesome.

They worked until bedtime but weren't quite ready for the next serum, so Ani slept in the bath. They got to work at dawn and took a break for the parade and lunch. The serum was ready by five, and so Ani found herself chained to the recliner, listening to the audio book of
Cassandra French's Finishing School for Boys
on MP3.

The clock read one-twelve a.m. when she heard rustling behind the steel door. The clink of glass being moved, the click of cupboards being opened and closed. She heard her mom's voice, clinical and dispassionate, and realized it was a recording of previous serum tests.
Mom must be restless.

She put it out of her mind until two-oh-five, when the door opened. Dylan stood there, dressed in black, his head brush-cut. His face was wet with tears, and in his gloved hands, he held her mom's shotgun. He stepped forward and hit 'stop' on the video camera. Ani didn't bother trying to struggle or to talk. That was the whole point of this setup. The best she could do was plead with her eyes.

He stepped inside, eyes wide, pupils huge, and took in the room—the fuel tubes, the chimney. "So that's what the big red button is for," he whispered. He stepped forward and hit 'stop' on the MP3 player, then raised the shotgun. The hole in front of the barrel dominated her vision, a yawning black chasm ready to swallow her, to drag her into oblivion.
Can zombies go to heaven? Is there heaven?

He stood over her and pressed the barrel against her forehead, right between her eyes. The metal was cold against her skin. "Isn't this what we're supposed to do, Ani? With zombies?" His finger found the trigger.

Please, Mom. Please.
She moaned.

He pulled the gun back, knelt, and set it on the floor. He looked at her, and his eyes were blazing, crazy. "I knew," he said. "I knew it." He shuffled forward to hover over her, and ran a finger down her cheek. "You're so beautiful, Ani. So beautiful."

He leaned forward and she closed her eyes. His lips were warm and soft on her forehead where he had pressed the gun barrel. He kissed her eyelids, her cheek, her neck. She shuddered.

"Shhh," he said. "I know. I know." He ran his finger along her lips, dry and cold around the bite guard. "I can't kiss you there, can I? One kiss and that would be it, the end. For me. For you. For Ohneka Falls. Quarantine and fire. Blood and death." He leaned in, his lips an inch from hers. Half an inch. His entire body quivered. She tried to pull away, but the chains held her fast. He pulled back, just.

"We all pretend like we're embracing death, but you… You
are
death. Waking, breathing
death
." He put his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and breathed her in. "So cold… So impossible… So perfect." His hand moved down, brushing over her breast, to the sash of her nightgown. "So very perfect." His fingers lingered on the knot, then his eyes snapped open. "I love you, Ani." He leapt back, spun around, and stumbled out the door. He didn't close it behind him.

She heard him go up the steps, and then nothing.

*  *  *

"Ani?" Her mom's anxious voice flooded her with relief.
She's okay!

Mom stumbled down the stairs in a panic. "Oh, my baby, my sweet baby, are you okay?" She covered Ani's face in kisses, then hugged her.

"Can you let me out, Mom?" It might have been understandable through the bite guard.

She squeezed harder. "In just a minute. I want to hold my baby." They sat like that for a minute, Ani half-suffocated if she had needed to breathe, before her mom pulled herself back. She undid the clasp on the bite guard and started on the other restraints. "Tell me what happened."

She did.

Her mom, of course, freaked, no matter how much she downplayed it. Dylan wouldn't tell anyone, and no one would believe him if he did. It wasn't good enough.

Their options were limited. They couldn't go to the cops—any police involvement would be more dangerous to Ani than Dylan could ever be. They couldn't go to Dylan's mom. They couldn't just make him disappear—her mom broached the topic, and Ani vetoed it—and he wasn't going to disappear on his own. Sometimes "not good enough" was all you had.

*  *  *

Monday, third period, she opened her locker and a dozen dead roses fell out, scattering brittle petals across the floor.

"Where'd those come from?" Fey asked.

Ani looked around.
No one there.
"I have no idea." She pulled a cigarette out of her band folder and handed it to Fey, who tucked it into her cleavage.

"You're a doll, Ani." Fey kicked the roses over to the garbage can and left them on the floor. "See ya."

When she was gone, Ani closed her eyes. "What do you want, Dylan?"

Dylan stepped out of Mrs. Weller's doorway, all in black. "How did you know I was here?"

"Who else would it be?"
And of course you'd be watching.

He walked up to her with his crazy smile. "You're right. Nobody else knows your secret. Our secret."

"I told you if you talked to me again I'd kill you."

"Would you?" he asked. Insane eyes, insane smile. He put his hands at his side and tilted his head back, baring his bruised throat. He sighed. "Do it. Like the dog. I am a dog. Your dog. Do it, and we can be together, forever."

She shut her locker and walked away.

*  *  *

Dylan stared at her through band. And lunch. And art. His car followed her bus home. When she left the Lair—thank God he was still banned—his car was in the CVS parking lot across the street. Her mom drove her home, and if he followed, they couldn't tell.

Her mom wired up a private security system in the house.
It's not like we could get a dog.
Ani was forbidden from walking to or from anywhere. Her mom watched from the house as she got on the bus, and drove her home every day.

A week passed, then two, in near-normalcy. She found more creepy gifts in her locker—more dead flowers; an ankh; a desiccated bat, shriveled and sad; a bow of human hair, dyed black—and Dylan stared at her three periods a day. Quiet in the first place, he stopped speaking to anyone. He'd answer questions in class if asked, but that was all. He didn't defend himself when the bullies found him an easy target, didn't even react, and they got bored of trying. Already lean, he lost weight, and his eyes developed sunken, black rings that were not makeup.

But he never spoke to her, and he never broke into her house.
If he did, we could shoot him.
Even her mom agreed with that thought, whether it got the police involved or not.

In the end, he became one more reason for people to avoid Ani. Nobody wanted to be subject to that vacant, haunted gaze. Nobody but Fey and Jake—they claimed not to care.

*  *  *

Her first quarter grades sucked—only band and art were A's, and everything else C's. Her mother let it go.

Chapter 13

The skating party on the fourteenth was Christmas-themed, festive with red, white and green decorations.
Jingle Bell Rock
made the mix, as did
Santa Baby
. The energy was high, the kids had a blast, and if Dylan sat in the corner, staring at her from the darkness, so what?

The new serum was fantastic, now that she was more used to it. She felt more normal with every passing day and she didn't have to cut, not even with all the kids around her. She doled out candy and soda, and something she hadn't been able to do for over a year—hugs. She half-expected to start breathing again.

Ani and her mom walked out of the gym to the parking lot, singing
Feliz Navidad
at inappropriate volumes. Her mom frowned at their car, and Ani looked. The decapitated head of a lawn Rudolph sat propped on the windshield wipers, red nose dull under the yellow halogen lights. Ani clutched the ever-present pepper spray in her pocket.

Her mom
tsk-
ed and knocked the head off the car. "That boy needs a mental examination, but I'll be damned if I'm recommending one." They got in and headed home, Rudolph's dead eyes gazed after them from the parking lot.

*  *  *

That Friday afternoon was the Winter Carnival, and Ani was again painting faces. Little kids got snowflakes, polar bears, Santa hats, and presents. One precocious little boy got a teddy bear with fangs by request, proudly showed it to his mother, and was ushered crying to the bathroom to wash it off.
Ho, ho, freakin’ ho, lady.

Ani was in the bathroom scrubbing paint off her hands when Devon walked in. Ani watched her sidelong through the mirror but said nothing. Devon didn't go to a stall; instead, she walked up next to Ani and started futzing with her makeup. She looked almost flawless.

"Can I ask you something?" Devon asked. Her voice was neutral, without a hint of spite or false friendship.

Ani snorted. "Only if you call me Cutter."

Devon put her mascara away and turned to face her. "Seriously."

Ani turned off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. "Sure, Devon, ask me whatever you want."

She twirled a lock of light brown hair around her index finger, then licked her lips. "What does Mike see in you?" Devon might as well have slapped her.

"In me?" She thought about it for a moment.
Compared to you? Actual thoughts. A personality. A brain.
"I don't know. We grew up on the same street, spent a lot of time together in elementary school. We were friends for a long time."

"Were," Devon said.

Ani sighed. "Yes. Were. I talk to him maybe once a week, sometimes twice, and then for maybe a minute or two. Jocks don't hang with emo kids."

"Fey was with Keegan last summer."

"For a weekend," Ani said. "Then she regained her sanity."

"What's wrong with Keegan?" Devon asked.

"Nothing. Everything. It's the wrong question."

Devon leaned against the sink and waited for her to continue.

"What's right with Keegan? For her I mean. Keeg's an okay guy, but what do they have in common besides hormones?"

Devon's face darkened.
Maybe I hit a nerve.
Devon fixed her hair in the mirror, plastered a fake smile on her face, and walked out the door. "See you at school, Cutter."

Fey rushed in an instant later. "What the hell was that?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Ani said, staring out the door. She shook it off and looked at Fey's shirt, a dead tree clawing at a gray sky. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a Winter Carnival type. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

Ani smiled. "You found me. What's up?"

"I think you need another job. The Dragon's Lair is gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

She flicked her hands at Ani. "Poof. Fire."

"Bullshit. What the hell are you talking about?" Ani asked.

"No, I'm serious. Heard it on my step-dad's scanner. Drove by on my way here. Leveled, there's nothing left but foundation. I thought you might want to swing by, check it out before the concert."

"Travis?" Ani asked.

"He was outside, covered in black. Stan said the whole place stank like gas. They think it's arson."

"Dylan," Ani said.

Fey rolled her eyes. "That kid's a nutcase, but he wouldn't do something like that."

Oh yes he would.
"He burned down that bike shed last year. To impress you."

Fey smiled. "Lot of good it did him. And still, it's a big step from an abandoned shed to a store. He's all show."

"It was him," Ani said. "I'm sure of it."

"You got Dylan on the brain, Miss CSI. Travis probably did it for insurance money or something. Happened all the time back home."

"Fey, you've lived here for eight years. This is back home."

"Well, shit."

*  *  *

Fey's rusty El Camino smelled like vanilla and cigarettes. Mercifully, the radio didn't work, so they rode in relative silence to check out the remains of the Dragon's Lair. By the time they got there, the fire trucks were gone, and the area was sectioned off with 'DO NOT CROSS' tape.

The Lair was a ruin. A few black timbers smoldered in the falling snow above a congealed pool of soggy ashes. The siding on the diner next door had melted, exposing primed plywood beneath, but other than that, the fire appeared to have been contained to the one building.