“You f**king stalked me, Wesley. You’re sick. And you knew this whole time it was him. I can’t believe I trusted you.”
“I can’t believe I trusted you,” he snapped. “You’ve been lying your ass off to me about everything.”
I let go of him so I could stab a finger at his chest. “It’s my f**king prerogative to lie about this. If anyone knew, he’d lose his job. But now he’s going to anyway. Great f**king work, Wesley. A-plus. Gold f**king star.”
“God, stop yelling. Nobody knows it’s you.”
“Hiyam saw us, you idiot. And now you gave her proof.”
“What?” he said.
“She. Fucking. Saw. Us.”
“Where?”
“Where do you think?” I slashed my hands through the air, wishing it was his face. “In there. In his f**king class.”
“What did she see?”
I took a step closer to him, my chest touching his. “What do you think she saw? Us. Together.”
Wesley stepped back. “You were with him in class?”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“You did it in our class?”
“Don’t you dare judge me. You have no right—”
“I can’t believe this,” he said, his pitch climbing. “You were with him in our class. That’s so f**king sick, Maise. What the f**k is wrong with you?”
“What the f**k is wrong with you?” I screamed. “You f**king stalker. You traitor. ‘You’re my best friend. Did you know that?’ Go to f**king hell.”
His voice was cold. “You’re the traitor.”
I laughed. “Why, because I popped your precious cherry, you naive little boy? Grow up. This is real. The world is ugly and nasty and f**ked up, and so are we.”
He didn’t flinch. His jaw jutted out, but he faced me eye-to-eye. “Listen to what you just said. That’s how you see yourself with him. ‘Ugly and nasty and f**ked up.’ That’s exactly why I did this.”
If I’d had any sort of loose object, I would have flung it at him. Instead I raked my hands through my hair and pulled. “God,” I said, trying not to scream again. “You seriously think you’re teaching me something, you arrogant piece of shit.”
“Yeah,” he said huskily. “But you’re too f**king stupid to get it. You’re the one who’s naive. You don’t even see what he’s doing to you.”
I spread my hands, laughing. “Please. Enlighten me, Professor f**king Brown.”
“He’s not who you think he is.”
“Then who the f**k is he?”
“I don’t know. But I know it’s bizarre as hell that there’s nothing online about him before 2011. He’s a ghost. He came out of nowhere.”
I felt nauseated. My fury was cooling, hardening into hate. “You don’t know anything about him. I know about his past.”
“Yeah? Where did he come from?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“Where did he teach before this?”
“Shut up.”
“Where does he go on his days off and why does he sit in his car for hours, talking to himself?”
I stared at him. “What?”
The bathroom door scraped against the garbage can and a boy stuck his head in. We both yelled, “Get out.” The head disappeared.
I looked at Wesley again, my breath heavy and dry and tasting of bile, as if I’d run for miles, worn myself down to acid and bone.
“I saw him,” Wesley said. “Yeah, I stalked him. Fucking sue me. I thought you were in danger, Maise. He’s using you. I was trying to protect you.”
“Ruining my f**king life is how you protect me?” I shook my head. “You’re sick, and you’re obsessed. That’s what your film is about, Wesley. That’s the irony you don’t get.”
“Get over yourself.” He stepped closer, and I had to tilt my head up to look up at him. “Yeah, I am kinda obsessed. I’m f**king sorry. But this is not about me. You don’t even see what he’s done to you. You put on these rose-colored glasses and think you’re in love, but you’re not. Open your eyes, Maise. I see how miserable you are every day and now you’ve seen it too. It was the only way I could make you see what he really is.”
I stood on my toes and spoke in a whisper, viperously soft. “You betrayed me in the worst possible way. You make me sick. Do not ever talk to me again.”
And I shoved the can aside and stormed out and didn’t see a thing through the brilliant bokeh of my tears.
—9—
Meet me at home after school.
I stared at Evan’s text, wanting to smash my phone to pieces. No f**king point in secrecy anymore, was there? The raptors had found us. I’d spent the entire day in a black haze, seeing nothing but blood and bones and a trail of my own guts leading back to his classroom.
Please, he added, and something plucked sharply in my chest, a plangent, dissonant note.
I didn’t respond. I slammed my locker closed.
Hiyam was waiting behind the door.
Myocardial infarction.
“O’Malley,” she purred. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I’d had my Revelation. This could only be Reversal.
“Let’s walk,” she said.
I still had World Lit, but no one went to the last period before vacation. The building was quiet, most classes dark. My locker slam echoed too long. This place was already a tomb.
“I’ve got class,” I said. “What do you want?”
“I want to help you keep Evan Wilke from going to jail.”
My body stilled, my entire cellular metabolism pausing. Her face was flawlessly composed, those high, upward-raked cheekbones and teardrop eyes like a mask. I couldn’t read her. She raised a pencil-thin eyebrow at me and walked away.
I followed, like the stupid kid sister.
“So,” she said when I caught up, “what do you call him when you’re alone? Evan, or Mr. Wilke?”
I swallowed. Admit nothing.
She propped open a stairwell door, ushering me in. I felt like I was walking to my own execution. I leaned against the cold concrete wall, staring at the caged bulb opposite us as if it could open fire any moment.
“Up,” Hiyam said.
We climbed to the roof door, which was unlocked.
“We’re on camera,” I said.
“Didn’t stop you with Mr. Wilke.”
If I grit my teeth any harder, my face would shatter.
Freezing air blasted over us when she opened the door. The roof slates had become a diamondback of ice, slick scales twinkling in the sun. Cloudless periwinkle stretched from forever to nowhere. Hiyam went to the ledge and I followed, calculating the chance of death from a four-story drop.
She lit a cigarette. The smoke and her breath hung in the air, gossamer snakeskins.
“This is what I’ve been wondering,” she said. “Why you?”
I stood beside her, arms crossed. I wore a man’s flannel shirt and tight leggings and the cold cut right through, but I kept my chin up, refusing to cower.
“I mean,” Hiyam said, “he could have had anyone. If he took me home, I would’ve blown him in his car. Actually, I would’ve had my driver pick us up, and blown him in my father’s car.”
“So why me?” I said dryly. “Why not one of you pathetic little girls with daddy issues? Good question.”
She laughed. Her smoke scribbled arabesques that looked like the Persian alphabet.
“There’s something about you,” she said. “You don’t give a fuck. It’s kind of hot.”
“Save the flirting. You’re not my type.”
Hiyam laughed again. “Such a bitch. I like it, O’Malley. Now let me tell you how this is going to work.” She sat on the ledge. “You are going to supply me. Anything I want, any quantity, and I’ll pay street price. No haggling. My baba joon would be so disappointed if he knew I didn’t haggle.” Something hard flashed in her eyes. “In return, I won’t tell the principal or the police that you’ve been f**king Mr. Wilke. I also won’t tell them that he f**ked me.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“Because that would be a felony. Since I’m seventeen.”
I uncrossed my arms and stepped toward her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I can lie.”
“You’re insane,” I said. “It’ll never hold up. There’s no evidence.”
“Isn’t there?” she said. “Mr. Wilke has been seen in many compromising situations. Like showing up at my party. And being in a locked classroom with both of us. Which Wesley conveniently preserved on film. My baba will hire the best lawyers. His poor little girl, taken advantage of.” She laughed smoke into my face. “I see you thinking about pushing me. But you won’t. You’ll do exactly what I say. Because you belong to me now. You’re my toy.”
If there is a God, or an Allah, or anything, I thought, strike this bitch down. Please.
“This is non-negotiable,” Hiyam said. “If you work with me, it can be a mutually beneficial partnership. If you f**k me, it will be a master-slave arrangement. Up to you.”
She flicked her cigarette off the roof.
“I’ve got big plans for New Year’s. I’ll be in touch before then.”
She left me there, and I stared at the cherry burning on the wet asphalt far below, thinking, There I am. Down there. That’s me.
After a minute, the fire went out.
My frozen hand wouldn’t turn the key properly, but it didn’t matter. As soon as he heard me at the door, Evan opened it, took one look at me, and pulled me inside, crushing me to his chest.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he whispered.
It was dusk, the sky striped pink and baby blue, all gentle annihilation. I could see the gibbous moon, a milky eye peering through a pastel curtain. His apartment was dark, Christmas lights off. Tinsel glinted in the gloom like tiny cuts in the air.
I had walked there and I was chilled to the core and he took off my coat, settled me on the couch with a blanket, started water for tea. I let him fuss, trying to steel myself inside. But when he knelt before me and took my hands in his, looking up with wet eyes, I couldn’t hold it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I said, starting to cry. “I was so careless. This is my fault.”
“We were both careless. It’s no one’s fault.”
The tea kettle whistled. He waited until my tears slowed before he got it.
Harden up, I thought. Don’t manipulate him. Do the right f**king thing, for once.
I took a few sips of hot tea and said, “Need something stronger.”
He came back with two tumblers and a bottle of Old Forester.
“I can’t believe Wesley would do this,” I said as I drank. Oak and vanilla, burning in the back of my throat.
Evan sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. He peered into the thick syrup in his glass. “I talked to him after school.”