In Memoriam Page 7

  January and Pete part ways with us. They’re headed to homeroom, which is a different homeroom than Li, Em, Jim and I will be in. That’s because there wasn’t a homeroom with six empty spots, according to Pete, so he had to split us up. I think that was probably for the best anyway, less it seem suspicious that six people who know each other – and are all new to the school – wind up in the same homeroom.

  “Thank Goddess our parents already took care of the paperwork and everything ahead of time,” Em says as we’re heading for the office.

  “Yeah, it’s not like we needed to draw any extra attention to ourselves,” Li says, motioning towards two younger girls who are taking cell phone pix of us right now.

  I thought people reacting like this was going to bother me, but it doesn’t. I’m sure it will when those pics get turned into nasty memes, though. Although these girls look more like fans than gossips; I get a warm vibe from them. Can’t say the same for the other onlookers though. The hall keeps getting quiet each time we pass a group of students. They all shut up so they can stare at us and try to eavesdrop on our conversation. Plus, I’m sure they want to intimidate us, too. Make us feel unwelcomed here. Of course, they can’t resist making jokes about us after we’ve walked by each group, but they’re keeping their voices low, perhaps afraid to incur our wrath.

  “Damn, I wish I could use candy right now,” Em says.

  Li laughs. “Me, too.”

  Maybe we should’ve done a glamour spell, I say telepathically. Of course, I’m joking. Mostly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LIA

  As soon as Emma, Jim, Shar and I walk into the office it gets so quiet you could hear a number two pencil drop. And everyone is looking at us. Students. Receptionists. A custodian. Everyone. Funny how adults are always saying it’s impolite to stare, yet that’s exactly what all of them are doing right now. The students, I can kind of understand, but the fucking adults? You’d think they would at least try to mind their manners. Instead, their eyes remain locked on us. Meanwhile, the room remains silent – to the point that I can hear my heart beating inside my chest. Well, fuck this. I start making eye contact with our onlookers. One at a time, I make eye contact with several of them, waiting for each to get uncomfortable and look away. Because, fuck them, right?

  The thing about people looking at us like this is that they’ve already judged us. Either they’re looking at us like we’re hitmen who should be locked up or they’re admiring us for fighting back and saving ourselves. Hitmen or Heroes, that’s what I’ll call my book someday. Or Heroes or Hitmen, that probably sounds better. Either way. Ever since the shooting, everyone seems to think we’re one or the other. We’re the only ones who see each other as regular people anymore.

  If you think you can’t tell when Indian people are blushing you’re wrong because I stop staring back at “the grownups” and see that my girlfriend, Shar, has a face as red as blood right now, probably a mix of embarrassment and anger. I reach over and run the fingers of my left hand along her right, slowly enough for her to notice but fast enough that the adults can’t accuse us of holding hands. Of course, they already look ready to accuse us of something, but if one of them took issue with my fingers grazing my girlfriend’s hand then the others would probably frown upon them. “How could you give detention to those poor girls?”

  “As you were,” Emma says loud enough for everyone in the office to hear, which makes Jim smile proudly. For a second, it makes the bastards scrutinize us even more, but then the door that says “principal’s office” opens and a woman comes out and they all go back to what they were doing, the adults and students alike appearing somewhat frightened. Well, except for a few adults, who the principal has to glare at. But they look wicked nervous as they catch her gaze. One of them turns back to his computer and knocks his coffee mug onto the floor where it shatters.

  The principal waves us over. “Emma, Lia, Sharan, come, come. Jim, I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  “Guess I’ll have a seat then.” Jim takes a seat across from the reception counter, which Emma walks around. She leads the way past several desks arranged in two rows until the three of us are in the principal’s office.

  “Have a seat,” the principal says, motioning to the three chairs in front of her desk. “I’m Principal Clarke,” she says as she walks around the desk and sits. “So, to start, why don’t you tell me who’s who?”

  Like she doesn’t already know from the fucking news, I say to Emma and Shar telepathically.

  We say our names and she hands us all our schedules, which we thank her for even though high school schedules are the last thing any of us wants to look at right now. She also tells us that we can call her “Miss Clarke,” pronouncing the e, which makes her sound uptight to me.

  “We put you in as many of the same classes as we could,” she says. Complete bullshit, too, because Pete is the one who put us in most of the same classes. Then she says how the school is sympathetic to our “situation” and that if we have any issues with other students to let her know and it will be dealt with promptly. She also tells us about the school’s no violence policy and how we can’t bring weapons to school and other crap that’s completely obvious. Finally, she calls Melinda to the office. James is her last name. I’m not surprised she has a first name for a last name. She just seems like she should. And her smile is completely fake when she tells Ms. Clarke she’d be “delighted” to show us around.

  I’m nervous about seeing the rapist, Shar says to Emma and I telepathically as Melinda begins leading us down the hall away from the office.

  Because you want to kill him or because you don’t? I ask.

  A mix of both.

  Yeah, I’m having mixed feelings, too, Emma says.

  Maybe one of us should jet to the nearest restroom the second we see him, Shar suggests.

  Good idea, I say.

  Less of us, less chance of the jerk’s head exploding, Emma says like a smart ass, which is usually my thing to do. Although she can be quite the wise cracker.

  I’ll go, Shar says anxiously. If it’s OK with you both.

  Then go when you gotta go, I joke.

  While Emma and Shar are giving me their angry faces it occurs to me that Ms. Clarke didn’t send Jim with us. She’s probably going to have a guy show him around so they can tour the boy’s locker room.

  “Could you pay any less attention?” Melinda says, stopping to give us the evil eye.

  “We are paying attention,” Emma says.

  “What wing are we in?”

  “Science,” Shar says.

  “Oh,” Melinda says, looking surprised. “Sorry. I thought you were all talking in sign language back there.”

  I force a quick laugh. “That would require knowing how to sign. Which we don’t.”

  “Pas du tout,” Emma says.

  “Parlez-vous français?” Melinda asks.

  “Ouais,” Emma says. French slang for oui. Yes. She used to say that a lot – to an annoying point, to tell you the truth – but this is the first I’ve heard her say it during recent memory.

  Melinda smiles. “Chic alors.”

  Fittingly, next up is the language wing. It cracks me up how just about every subject has its own wing at this school, even if some wings are more like half a hallway. At least it should make it easier to memorize where our classes are.

  Eventually, we turn a corner and we all recognize this wing. It’s the long one from the premonition. The same five guys are standing in the hall. Three together, then the duo featuring the rapist.

  “Where’s the restroom?” Shar blurts out.

  “At the end of the hall,” Melinda says, pointing down the hall past where the guys are standing.

  Shit, shit, shit, Shar says. I should’ve known this would happen.

  We were all thinking the same thing, that the restroom would be back in the opposite direction. Not taking us right past those guys. It’ll be fine.

  “So, if you don�
�t mind me asking,” Melinda says. “What was it like when that Ken guy got on the intercom and summoned you to the office that morning?”

  What a bitch! I want to scream at her so loud it makes her eyes bleed. She has some fucking nerve asking us about that!

  No, let’s talk about it, Emma says. It’ll distract us.

  Now I kind of want to bark in her face. You first.

  “It was scary,” Emma says. “Wicked. We saw our lives passing before our eyes.”

  “I really need the restroom,” Shar says and literally runs past the guys, who we are about to reach.

  “OK, then...” Melinda says, looking shocked. Shar stunned us all, causing us to halt in our tracks. As a result, the first few guys walk past us instead of vice versa. Once they’re just a few feet away, I hear them commenting on our asses. Literally. “What losers.”

  “Did you really want to go face them or did the other students force you to?” Melinda asks.

  I’m surprised by that question. It’s not one we’ve been asked often. I don’t even recall the detectives asking us that. Not that my memory of everything that happened right after the shooting is reliable.

  “It was a mix of both,” Emma says.

  I suppose I should say something. I feel my forehead muscles tensing up as I speak. “I think we figured we were dead either way so we might as well go down there and spare other people from getting killed, too.”

  “I’d probably do the same thing,” Melinda says and gets this grin on her face like some great curiosity of hers has just been satisfied. As though I’ve just told her the meaning of life or some shit like that. Then she continues leading us down the hall.

  This time Melinda stands to Emma’s left, Emma being to my left, which means she’s now on the opposite side of the hallway from the rapist and accomplice. We’re about to walk by them when she comes out with another question, which she directs at Emma. “What was being shot like? I mean, I know it must feel terrible, but how would you describe it?”

  I could answer that question, except I can’t because so far as the world at large knows I wasn’t shot. This is because January had healed me before the cops and ambulances showed up.

  “It was awful,” Emma says. “It’s like having your insides explode. It pierces and it burns. It’s like forcing a hot coal through your skin and deep into your body. Like getting a thousand bee stings at once...”

  Emma says more, but I tune her out because I want to hear what the guy says, if it’s changed since the premonition. Of course, he’s a potential rapist either way, but for some reason I need to hear him say it. Sure enough, just as we’re passing them, the guy says it to his buddy: “Awesome – I can’t wait to rape Melinda’s ass.” He says it and I lose it.

  I don’t think about his head exploding – because I turn around and grab him by the arm, digging my nails into him. “If you so much as put your finger on her I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “What the fuck?” the guy goes.

  Emma’s face turns ghost pale and her jaw drops.

  “Yeah, what the fuck?” Melinda repeats.

  “He said he was going to rape you this weekend,” I say.

  The guy’s face burns red and he drops his books.

  “I heard it, too,” Emma says.

  Tell her the truth, I mentally demand of the guy. Tell the truth. Then Emma joins in and says it with me, Tell the truth.

  “I was joking,” the guy says, looking down at his books, less our stares burn right through him. I let go of him and he rubs his arm.

  Melinda walks over and slaps him in the face twice then she turns back to us and says “let’s go” and we start back in the direction we were going. But after I take a few steps, I look over my shoulder and glare at the guy so he knows that I meant what I said.

  What the fuck were you thinking? Emma asks me.

  “Aaah!” the guy screams. Naturally, we stop and look at him.

  “What?” his bro goes.

  “I just got stung in the ass!”

  “Huh?”

  “A bee! I was stung by a fucking bee!” Because that’s exactly what I wanted to happen to him just then.

  A teacher sticks her head out into the hall. “Which one of you just swore? You can tell me or you can both spend your next two afternoons in detention.”

  Neither of them says anything for a second. Then the other guy goes, “It wasn’t me.”

  Melinda and I laugh as we continue down the hall, but Emma glares at me, her brow cinched.

  I’m sorry, Em, I say. I just lost it when he said it.

  Why were you even listening? I thought we weren’t gonna do that?

  I don’t know. I just needed to hear him say it for some reason.

  What reason?

  I don’t know. I’m sorry.

  I suppose you needed to dig your claws into him, too?

  It was instinct. Anyway, it’s over. Just chill. I don’t know why I grabbed him. I wonder if it’s because we have black magick in us now. No, I doubt it’s that. Grabbing him like that was something I would’ve done even before we killed Jenna and inherited her evil mojo. Besides, our pentacle necklaces should prevent us from using black magick anyway. I think having him stung is in the gray area.

  And the bee sting was coincidence? Emma continues.

  No, that was on purpose. It’s not like anyone is gonna know I used magick because the dude got stung by a bee.

  Emma shakes her head. Wasn’t that black magick?

  If it was, wouldn’t the pentacle have stopped me?

  They probably only kick in if we try to do something wicked evil. But that doesn’t justify things.

  I put my hand on her shoulder and it actually makes her flinch. It was a bee sting, Emma. Give me a fucking break already.

  Shar comes out of the bathroom as we arrive at the end of the hall. I trust it went well?

  Pas du tout, Emma says.

  “I need to stop for a second,” Melinda says once we’re around the corner and the pigs can’t see us. They were probably sent to the office anyway.

  We stop walking. Melinda leans against the lockers. Her neck is all red and there are a few hives on her cheeks.

  Shar looks at me to explain what Emma said. It’s fine. I just grabbed the guy by the arm.

  And stung him in the ass, Emma tattles.

  Shar looks really confused.

  With a bee! I confess.

  “I know I must look hideous right now,” Melinda says. “It’s because I’m allergic to heat and when I’m stressed my body temperature rises and sets it off.”

  “You’re allergic to heat?” Emma asks.

  Melinda nods and starts shuffling through her purse. “It’s called cholinergic urticaria. If you don’t believe me, take out your phone and google it.”

  “We believe you,” Shar says.

  I’m not sure I believe her, but clearly there’s something wrong with her that made her get hives over what just happened. Actually, no, maybe she’s perfectly normal and any woman would get hives learning a guy intended to rape her.

  “What are you looking for?” Emma asks.

  Melinda sighs heavily. “Benadryl.”

  “I might have some,” Emma says and starts combing through her own purse. “Got it. It’s Tylenol PM, but it’s just Tylenol and a double dose of Benadryl.”

  Emma pours several in her hand. “In case you need a few later.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a Valium.”

  Emma hesitates for a moment before saying, “If you swear to God not to tell anyone, I’ll give you an Ativan.”

  Melinda zips her mouth shut with her finger. “That would be perfect. My lips are sealed.”

  You really shouldn’t, Shar says.

  But Emma gets her little pill container out of her purse and picks one out and hands it to her. “It’s one milligram, so you should probably only take half of it if you’re not used to it.”

  “Trust me, with all the drugs I’ve done, my syst
em can take it.”

  “Well, at least don’t take more than one Benadryl with it.”

  Melinda opens a Midol bottle in her purse and pours all but one of the Tylenol PM/Benadryl into it. Then she puts it in the palm of her left hand, along with the Ativan, plops them into her mouth, and swallows hard.

  Emma rubs Melinda’s shoulder. “So, do you know the asshole?”

  “Not well. His name is Byron Landry. What exactly did he say?” She rubs the back of her neck.

  My hands become fists as I say it. “They were talking about a party and he said, ‘I can’t wait to rape Melinda’s ass.’” Now I feel like puking.

  “Fuckhead,” Melinda says. “Let’s continue the tour – it’ll make the Ativan spread through my system faster.”

  I highly doubt that’s true, but if she wants to walk then so be it. On with the show.

  A couple of minutes later we walk by a few lockers that have “murderers” spray painted on them in blood red crimson. Lia, Shar and I stop upon seeing them. Melinda keeps walking, since she was in front of us and didn’t notice us stopping.

  “Melinda,” I say.

  She trembles, startled, before she turns around. “What?”

  Emma points at the lockers. “What’s the deal with this?”

  “Tell me these aren’t our lockers,” Shar says.

  “No,” Melinda says. “Well, they were supposed to be, but someone did that so the school decided to give you different ones. So far, I’m the only one besides the principal who knows which ones. We’ll be at them in a minute.”

  “I’m sure that’s all it’ll take for someone wonderful to come along decorate those, too,” I say.

  Emma and Shar glare at me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LIA

  First period is almost finished by the time our tour is over and Melinda leaves us at our second period class. Trigonometry. Something I wasn’t taking at Noah’s Catholic or at Berube Lowell High, the school we went to for freshman and sophomore years. Obviously, I was only placed in this class because Pete was trying to keep us together in as many classes as possible. To that end, Emma, Shar, January, Pete and Jim are all in trig right along with us. I appreciate what Pete’s done and I do want to share as many classes as possible with my friends, but I might have to ask him to put me in geometry so I can actually pass. I wonder what colleges consider better, a C- in trig or an A in geometry? Doesn’t matter. I don’t really feel like thinking about college right now. Instead, I’m just focusing on getting good grades. Hopefully, I’ll just end up going wherever Shar wants to go. Assuming I can get in and come up with some way to afford it that doesn’t involve taking out loans that would take me the next thirty years to pay back.