Mortal Danger

BLOOD IN THE WATER

In the morning, I completed the getting-ready process and went out to face the world. Deep down I was a little uncomfortable with my new clothes, even if I’d been wearing them all summer. Part of me still wanted to pull my hair into my face and hunch my shoulders and walk too fast, as if that could keep people from looking at me, judging me. It took all of the confidence I’d built up at SSP to step out of the brownstone. Our downstairs neighbor smiled at me as he came up the four steps that led into the building; Mr. Lewis was a notorious crank, but I thought he might actually doff his cap. I braced and headed for the T station.

My first stop had to be Blackbriar; the school uniform store was open as of today, and none of the clothes I had from last year fit me. My stomach churned as I went underground, used my Charlie Card, and got on a car that wasn’t as a packed as it would’ve been earlier in the day. Plus, I was heading away from the city center.

Blackbriar had an Auburndale address. The school was the size of a small private college, “lush, pastoral grounds where the curriculum is…” and some shit in the mission statement about respect and diversity, but there sure were a lot of white faces at Blackbriar. It went along with the country club nearby, and the price tag on my annual tuition.

My parents lived relatively close to the university without paying the prices of Beacon Hill or Back Bay. Which left me twenty minutes from school on the T, and the walk from the station wasn’t so bad, unless it was raining or snowing. On those days, I could count on some asshole to splash me when he went past in his expensive sports car, paid for with Daddy’s money. Since my parents were college professors, I had good health coverage and excellent academic resources but no car. Their patent paid enough to keep me at Blackbriar, but my folks weren’t swimming in cash, unlike the majority of the school. People at school had summer homes in Martha’s Vineyard and jetted to Europe on winter break.

And I live in a walkup and ride the T.

For the first time in my life, I had trouble on the subway. See, homeliness was like a cloak of invisibility. People often pretended they didn’t see me or if they got caught looking, their gazes slid away. Sometimes I used to overhear whispered jokes or throwaway insults, and I was pretty inured to it. But today, two frat guys jostled over the seat next to me, and the victorious one immediately sprawled into my space, so I had to touch my bare knee to his or pull my legs closer together. Good old lavaballing.

I was supposed to look at him, I think, or acknowledge him in some way, but instead I sat silent through the ride despite a couple of attempts to catch my attention. Apparently, that merited a mutter of “stuck-up bitch,” as I got off the train.

Pass, jackass. Not interested.

I considered the purchase of uniforms a dry run, so to speak. Most of the students around today would be underclassmen or those who gained weight or lost it over the summer, but this should help me gauge people’s reactions. I was betting most wouldn’t recognize me. Since I was dressed in Converse, shorts, and a tank top, I ran from the station to the front gate, mostly to see how long it took.

Six minutes.

The black wrought-iron gates were open, inviting alumni and current students to enter the magical land of learning. During the school year, there would be guards here because the children of politicians, dignitaries, and executives attended Blackbriar. At pickup, the cul-de-sac would be full of black SUVs and bodyguards collecting the under-sixteen offspring of important people. I followed the paved drive toward the brick building with white trim and matching colonial columns.

Funny that my personal hell could look so charming.

The main building housed the administrative offices, the library, auditorium, and a few freshman classrooms. Green manicured lawns crossed with stone paths led between the various departments, each built in a unique architectural fashion. The athletic complex, also known as the Stinkatorium, was built in what I’d call Greek Revival style, with white stone facing, pillars, and a dome over the swimming pool.

The sheer scale of the campus sometimes made it hard to get to class on time, and it was worse when some jackass had you cornered. Not that the teachers cared why I was late. I stepped through the front door and scanned for changes. Since it was mid-August, the hall was practically empty, apart from a few scared-looking transfer students. I understood that reaction; Blackbriar was intimidating as hell, and it would probably take them a week to remember where all of their classes were located. Most of the buildings had been named after school benefactors, so that made it even harder to keep it all straight.

Student volunteers sold uniforms in the school store, where you could buy all kinds of branded crap: pens, notebooks, folders, jackets, T-shirts, hats, along with the required school garb. I knew my sizes, so I strode in, mostly wanting to get this over with. I froze for a few seconds when I recognized Cameron Dean, currently facing away from me while he fiddled with the stock. The old, awful humiliation washed over me, until I thought I might be sick.

Choke it down. Otherwise you blow your second chance, along with chunks. Stay calm. This could work to your advantage. If he puts the word out on you, it’ll make the first day of school easier.

So I took one breath, two, and thought of Kian. His face sprang to my mind’s eye, steadying me. And it wasn’t the fact that he was hot that bolstered me; it was that he’d liked me before. Or so he said.

Cameron had brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, the quintessential all-American guy. He even had a nice smile—with dimples—not that I’d ever seen it before. But the minute I stepped up to the counter, he went into dazzle mode, though he had been dating Brittany King, head queen bee, for almost two years.

“You must be new,” he said.

I shook my head, pushing my list of clothing requirements across the counter toward him. It gave me a ridiculous amount of pleasure to say, “Guess again. I didn’t come to chat with the help. Could you fill my order, please?”

His smile slipped, as if he couldn’t fathom that I hadn’t immediately fallen victim to his charm. “I don’t actually work here. I’m helping the PTA because I’m a nice guy.”

“Too good to make an honest living, huh?” My mouth twisted in a scornful smile. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Do you have a problem with me?” he demanded.

Too far, I cautioned myself.

“Only that I still don’t have my uniforms.” I paused, tilting my head. “Wait, you thought I was serious? Don’t you have a sense of humor?”

I had been listening people say cruel, unforgivable things my whole life, usually to me, and then playing it off like I was the one with the problem. You gonna cry, Eat-it? Can’t take a joke? Why don’t you do the world a favor and just kill yourself already?

And I almost did. Hateful words had a way of worming beneath the skin, until they became the unbearable echo in your head. But I wasn’t listening anymore.

“Right,” he said, moving to pull my clothes from various piles.

Then Cameron used a calculator to total up a bill I could’ve done in my head. Kind of hard not to mock him, but I managed. I’d blown cold enough for this encounter. Though I’d rather tongue kiss a tailpipe, now I had to convince him I didn’t think he was the most disgusting creature ever to crawl out of the primordial ooze.

Maybe I should go out for drama.

I handed him the credit card after he gave the damage. Pausing, he said, “Mildred Kramer? Huh.”

“It’s my mom’s card.” Though I was pretty sure that wasn’t why he was wearing the I’m-thinking-hard-and-it-hurts look.

“I figured. You don’t look like a Mildred.”

“She knows I have it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Go on and make the connection, genius.

“No, it’s not that. We had a girl named Kramer here last year.”

“Oh?” Noncommittal reply. “It’s a common name.”

“I guess. Are you a junior?”

I shook my head. If I wasn’t so determined to make him pay, I could almost feel sorry for Cameron, because he didn’t have enough cerebral wattage to light up a single Christmas bulb. “Senior this year. I’m surprised you don’t remember. You used to pay an awful lot of attention to me.”

“Eat-it?” he blurted. “I mean … Edith?”

“My friends call me Edie,” I said breezily.

Not that he would ever number among them.

“Holy shit. What the hell did you do this summer?”

I just smiled. “Do you think you could run that card instead of tapping it on the counter? I still need to get school supplies.”

Mostly I wanted to get away from him before I started shaking or burst into tears. Remembering what he’d done to me—and how utterly fine with it he seemed—I could hardly breathe for the tightness in my chest. The shame washed high, higher, until it collared my throat, the spiked leather dog version. Pure inner steel kept me upright and my lips curved into a smile that swore I wasn’t on the verge of total collapse.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Now he was awkward and fumbling.

Somehow I kept it together until he gave me the ticket to sign. I was an authorized user on my mom’s card, so I scrawled on the slip and passed it back. In turn he handed me my bag of uniforms. Still have to figure out how to rock this without looking like I’m trying too hard.

“See you around,” I said.

Smooth strides carried me out of the store and then I practically ran into the restroom, where I leaned my head against the wall, trembling. Slowly the urge to barf passed, but before I straightened up, a girl came in. I recognized her as Jennifer Bishop, a peripheral member of the Teflon crew. She wasn’t as popular as Brittany or Allison, but since she was one of them, I couldn’t trust her. Jennifer had dark hair and eyes; she looked as if she had Thai heritage, though her last name didn’t reflect it.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just didn’t eat breakfast. I’m a little light-headed.” Bending down, I splashed some cold water on my face, then belatedly realized that most girls wouldn’t do that because it would destroy their makeup.

Looking in the mirror, I saw that I had, in fact, screwed up my eyeliner. With a faint sigh, I got a paper towel and did what I could to amend the damage. Now I got why girls in the Teflon crew carried around a cosmetics studio. Apparently I still had some things to learn.

“You can use mine if you want.” She was touching up her face, but the idea of risking pink eye was enough to make me shake my head.

“Thanks, but I’m headed home now anyway.”

“It’s Edith, right?”

I was honestly surprised. “Edie. Have we met?”

“No, but I know who you are.”

After what Cameron did, that was probably true of everyone at school, to say nothing of the five thousand viewers on YouTube. “What can I say, I’m memorable.”

“I hesitate to say this, but … you had me worried toward the end of last year. You look amazing now, though. I guess summer break put things in perspective?”

“Yeah.” More than you can ever know.

“I just want you to know, I had nothing to do with what happened. And I’m really sorry.” That was the most I’d ever heard Jennifer say.

“I survived. For what it’s worth, I know it wasn’t your idea. Talk to you later.”

She wore a pained look as I pushed past her, but I wasn’t interested in her crisis of conscience. For the sake of my sanity, I needed to get away from Blackbriar and marshal my strength for school next week. Bag in hand, I jogged out of the main building and toward the gate. Guys yelled after me; there were whistles and catcalls, but it didn’t make me feel pretty or special. It just made me feel worse, knowing that it didn’t matter what kind of person I was, only how I looked.

Eventually, I collected myself enough to head for the T station. In the city, I bought school supplies, and when I got home, my parents were both out. That was par for the course. Since I turned thirteen, I’d spent a fair amount of time alone. I wished my parents had evaluated the social atmosphere at Blackbriar in addition to the academics, but stuff like that didn’t occur to them. They saw high school as a hurdle to overcome on the way to an awesome adult life, and I should ignore people who made fun of me. I tried to talk to my mom about it once, and she told me a long story about how things were worse for her growing up and I should be grateful for my advantages. That was the end of me trying to make her understand just how bad things had gotten.

Too late now.

Over the next week, I wrote back and forth with Vi, less often to Ryu. I had the impression that he was pretty popular in Japan. It would’ve made me sad if I thought he was seriously hung up on me, but his quick notes were just about back-to-school stuff. In the mornings, I took to running, mostly because it was exercise I could do with the clothes and shoes I already owned. If my parents thought it was weird that I was up at seven every day and racing through the city streets, neither my mom nor dad said a word. My new interest in fitness came partly from a desire to keep the body I’d sold my soul for—I hoped not literally—and the rest had to do with burning nervous energy.

The night before school started, I talked to Vi on Skype. “So how’s Boston?” she asked, faking a bad townie accent.

“It didn’t change since I left it, so that’s good. How are things with you and Seth?”

Vi went for fifteen minutes about how awesome he was, and the fact that they were planning to hook up next weekend. I probably shouldn’t have asked, if I didn’t want the long, detailed answer. Partway through, I tuned out.

When I checked back in, she was saying, “Anyway, his mom says he can’t drive to meet me every weekend, and they had a big fight, but eventually they compromised, so we’re going every other, and he’s paying for part of the car insurance.”

“Sounds like a fair deal.”

She nodded. “Plus it gives us the chance to make sure we don’t fall behind in school. When I’m not seeing him, I’ll catch up on projects and extra credit.”

Only people from the nerd phylum would say “extra credit” without a sneer or a mocking laugh, but I’d always liked learning what teachers came up with to challenge us. Sometimes it was silly, not hard at all, but it showed you were willing to try. Since I’d had no social life, I was always about a hundred bonus points into A+ territory.

“So,” Vi concluded, “I just wanted to tell you to have a great first day.”

“You too.”

She paused. “Were you listening at all? We don’t start until next week.”

Oops. It looked like I wasn’t a great listener, and I’d missed some stuff that wasn’t Seth-relevant, but I’d get better with practice. Except for the SSP, I had more experience hiding from people than talking to them.

“Lucky.”

“I’m kind of bored,” she confessed.

“Me too.”

The waiting was getting to me as well. I kept checking my phone to see if Kian had texted, but nothing so far. It would be a relief to get this mission underway.

Soon after, Vi disconnected and I got ready for bed. One benefit of working out, however, was that I suffered from insomnia less. Despite myriad fears about tomorrow, I fell straight into a dreamless sleep. My alarm blared too early, but I rolled out of bed and went through the regimen I had practiced the week before.

In the end, I decided to go with classic schoolgirl. I wouldn’t be wearing thigh-high stockings or tying up my shirt the minute the teachers looked the other way. Instead I wore my uniform nearly as intended: blue knee socks, innocent Mary Janes, two buttons open on the blouse, and skirt rolled up once at the waistband to make it a bit shorter than strictly permissible. I’d seen girls daring much more, however. I did my hair up in a twist, a sexy, tousled one with curls escaping. This look that seemed effortless took me almost half an hour, more with makeup time. But in the end, it was worth it.

At last, I looked like one of the beautiful people, somebody you’d see cruising the halls with the Teflon crew. I had fruit and yogurt for breakfast, brushed my teeth, and waved at my parents, who were barely stirring. They were both kind of night owls, not in the party sense but that they’d stay up late watching documentaries or reading articles in scientific journals while sipping endless cups of hot tea.

“You want oatmeal?” Mom asked.

“No, I’m fine. I ate already. Bye!”

It was time to shift from planning and preparation to payback and penance. By the time I was done at Blackbriar, there would be blood in the water.