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Authors: Rhoda Belleza

Cornered (26 page)

BOOK: Cornered
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Blyss has a crazy sense of humor that's misunderstood. She's caring, witty, and captivating. Sure, she might have hated Gus, but she wasn't capable of murdering him.

I enter the gallery and a pungent smell of raspberries explodes in my face. My feet feel leaden as I walk past rows of watercolors searching for my girlfriend. A massive painting taking up half a wall titled
Desert iLand: Inside the Inside
catches my attention. My eyes dart everywhere, seeking an entrance around it. I catch a glimpse of the slightly peach, almost
translucent colored water that appears so real I can't veer my focus from it.

I press a finger into the canvas and dunk it in. When I pull it out, it's dripping wet.

“What the hell?” I say aloud as I stumble backward. My mind reels, trying to make sense of everything. This isn't possible. She can't be in there. I inch forward, taking in every detail of the painting. Tall, swaying palms line the left side of a long path. A vast ocean stretches along on its right, and a dense, chilling fog hovers over the open sea. Far in the distance, there's a dot of an island.

A flashing sign on top of the painting averts my attention:
TAKE SIX STEPS FORWARD AND STEP INSIDE THE INSIDE.

I know I need to enter, but apprehension seeps into me when I hear crashing waves. This is insane. Just as I'm about to turn around and leave, I hear Blyss's voice filled with fear, calling to me through the canvas—at least I
think
that's where it's coming from:

“Come in and find me, Mik . . .”

“Blyss?” I peer into the artwork.

“Where are you?” she responds in a sharp tone.

I take one step. Two. Three. They get lighter and lighter as I float toward the painting. Gusting wind and sea spray batters against my body, flapping open my jacket and oversized shirt. A deep pull yanks me, spins me around and hurls me inside. I land on my feet, but just barely. I reach out to touch a palm and realize it's made of origami.

This can't be.
My mind struggles to grasp reality, but there's no anchor.

Hissing noises, like creatures closing in, mock me from behind. I think of the guy in the café, his voice deep and steady, telling me:
keep going up and up . . . and don't look back
. So I do. I take off running with screeching, growling sounds chasing me, spurring me on.

I sprint on the trail, uphill, toward the summit. Every second that passes under the harsh, blinding sun takes an enormous effort. The footpath becomes steeper and my heart thumps harder in my chest. Stinging sweat drips into my eyes. I shake my long hair, spraying droplets everywhere. My feet ache and my lungs are about to burst as I pound up this endless, impossible hill. I stop to catch my breath, doubled over with eyes shut.

Keep going. For Blyss.

My leg muscles spasm as I battle to continue pushing forward. This damn jacket is dragging me down. I tear it off and throw it behind me, panting as I dash straight up to the apex. Out of breath, I look up at a cobalt blue sun, shooting vibrant rays into the ocean. I drop my head and scrutinize the waters. They're teeming with multicolored fish turning into white winged butterflies flattening into horizontal sheets. Twirling into whirlwinds, they spit out pink starfish-like creatures with antennas that whip back and forth.

That's some crazy shit.

I see a tiny dot of an island far in the distance. The mandarin
scented water smells of Blyss's hair. She's close. I slide off my shirt, sneakers, and socks and dive into the peach sea. My cupped hands move through the warm, crystalline water, and I quickly catapult forward. With every stroke, the waters change colors like a revolving kaleidoscope, from peach to turquoise, to translucent with a light grape tinge.

I spy a raft in the middle of the sea and swim hard toward it.

“Blyss!?” I yell as loud as I can, desperate for it to be her. She's sitting on a raft, meringue white skin, black midnight hair cascading down to the middle of her back. I kick relentlessly as my arms move in a windmill motion. My hand smacks against the raft, and Blyss throws her arms around me.

“You found me!” Her shining blue eyes glow in a way that makes my chest swell.

“You look beautiful.” My mind is blank. I can't think of anything but her. Even in the middle of the ocean, she looks svelte and graceful. Her small, sloped-up nose and delicate dimpled chin have always made me forget who and where I am. I scan her limbs and notice one of her hands is massively swollen and rolled up into a colossal fist the size of my head.

“What happened?”

She pinches it with her thumb and index finger. “It doesn't hurt. I might be allergic to something. . . .” I grip her gigantic fist to stay afloat in the middle of the vast sea. Her inflatable raft dips with my weight, and I'm careful not to pull her under. She flops on her belly and our noses touch.

“You're my hero, Mik. Now that you're here, I'm sure
we're meant to be together.” She leans into me and presses her velvety lips against mine. I sink into a warm, melting feeling. She pulls away and points to a green dot in the distance.

“Let's swim over there. Doesn't it look like Paradise? We'll make it our home, where no one will find us.” I hold on to her enormous fist and kick my feet hard as she lies on the raft. I paddle with one hand to propel us forward and remember the news reports.

“They think you killed Gus, but you didn't, though. Did you, Blyss?”

“Of course not. He threw himself off the pier and everyone wants to blame me. You believe me, don't you?” I nod. I trust every word she says and keep swimming.

Blyss and I met Gus at Riverview Academy, a private school for gifted students. He was homeschooled until he got there, and when he entered the school system he skipped two grades. Gus was only twelve, placed in our homeroom with kids older than him. He wore slinky dresses and strutted about in heels. Gus wanted to be referred to as a “she” and addressed as “Alyssa” but Blyss refused. Most of the class joined her in calling him “Gus,” or “Pus.”

Gus thought it would stop and we'd all get to like him once we understood his sense of humor, but that never happened. Blyss wouldn't let it. So when we were forced to watch
Everyone's Queer
—a play Gus had written, acted in, and directed—I knew Blyss would be upset. She didn't just tease him like the others. She loathed him.

Gus played his authentic self: Alyssa, a curvy “girl” with a soft voice, slinky dress, girly shoes, and glittery make-up that made his green eyes seem larger. His straight, naturally blondish hair hung down to his shoulders. The performance opened with Alyssa sitting next to Roly on the sofa—an Afro Cuban boy in conservative attire and buzzed hair—playing her straight stepbrother.

“Why do you have to be het?” Alyssa crosses one leg over the other and swings it. “How will a decent guy ever want to date you if you're hanging around those straights?”

“What's it to you if I'm into girls?” Roly toys with his tie. “It's not like I'm killing someone or shooting up.”

When Alyssa and Roly's lesbian moms ambled onto the stage holding hands, I realized the play was a parody. “Mami” played a muscular butch in army attire—with boots, a mustache, and a husky voice. “Mima” was portrayed as a mega feminine mom, dressed fancy, draped in pearls and fake fur, like a glamorous Hollywood actress.

“Roly, when did you choose to become straight?” Mima twirls her long locks with her index finger. “No one is born hetero.”

“It's true, baby. You're just mixed up.” Mami pats her bulging stomach. “You need to date a few handsome, brilliant, interesting guys, and you'll turn homosexual fast. You hear me?”

Then Roly's older brother and his muscle-bound Chinese Cuban boyfriend strolled over wearing matching pink mini shorts without shirts. The audience started to crack up at the exaggeration, and at first, I thought it was funny too. But when
I felt Blyss squeeze my thigh and her body tensed up next to mine, I realized I should be furious.

“He's so damned disturbed,” Blyss whispered into my ear. “What gives those assholes the privilege to inhabit this earth and spread diseases? People like him should kill themselves.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Acid crept up my stomach and into my esophagus. I tried to swallow hard but it wouldn't go down.

As we continue on our way to Desert iLand, the day begins to fade but the sun is as relentless as ever. Blyss doesn't seem to notice though. She throws me a gleaming smile, and I realize she's a different girl from yesterday; the one sitting next to me during the play is gone. The stress engraved all over her face has dissolved, and she doesn't seem to notice her arms and back have turned a bright pink. They've started to peel and blister, just like my shoulders and top of my head.

Suddenly light bounces off the water, shooting an illusion of flashing daggers all around us. As we head toward our new home, I make out a dolphin leaping in and out of the water in front of us. He swims to us and nestles up against me. I pet the side of its slippery face.

“What a gift,” I smile. I jut my nose to Desert iLand and ask, “will you take us there?” The dolphin moves its head, which I interpret for a nod.

“I don't trust him,” Blyss squints. “He might pull us in the opposite direction, farther away from the island.”

As if prompted, the dolphin slips under the water. I try to grab at him, to coax him back, but it resurfaces a few feet away
from us, squirting red from its blowhole, staining the ocean with a shining crimson glow. He stares at Desert iLand while standing in the water, swimming backward, giving sideways head jerks with an open jaw and wide eyes.

I can't unfasten my gaze from the distressed dolphin emitting a series of loud, high-pitched whistles.

“He's telling us those waters are hazardous, Blyss.”

“I
told
you. He's trying to lead us astray.”

He nose-dives, resurfaces, and squirts a thick glob of red from his blowhole that splatters our bodies with blood. Ugh. I wipe off the viscous substance as I tread water. It seeps across the ocean with a dark red stain and the scent of iron as he leaps away.

“This is a bad sign.” My throat ties up in knots and I gag. “Listen to me, Blyss. We need to turn around and head home.”

“Are you nuts?!” She pushes herself forward on the raft and begins to paddle. “The dolphin is just hurt. We're almost at our paradise.”

“We've got to get out of here, now!” I try to pull the raft around, but she kicks at my arms.

“We're heading to the island and that's
that
! Can't you see there's a perfect world awaiting us? It's the only place we'll be safe. We'll live there together, forever. No one will bother us again, or try to push their views on us. We can do as we please.”

“If we don't turn back, we'll die.”

“Why? Because a dolphin says so? Don't be spineless. We're wasting time.”

I grab my phone from my pocket and press a few digits with shaky fingers but realize it's water-damaged.
Don't Panic. Keep your cool.
Damn. I'll never be able to call for help from the middle of nowhere.

The wind picks up and waves start to twirl and swirl around us at incredible speeds. Strong currents slam against me. A fierce wave breaks, pushing me deep underwater, holding me here. I spin around and can't tell which way is up.

I kick hard and finally hit the surface, gasping for air. Blyss is far away hollering for me, but I can barely catch my breath. Another wave crashes against me. I swallow water and cough. Shortness of breath turns into loud wheezes.

“You better not drown on me!” Blyss shouts as she makes her way closer. I gulp air but nothing seems to be filling my lungs. I wheeze and wheeze. Finally she reaches me and slips her arms around my neck. “Breathe slowly, deeply. The weather has calmed. You're going to be okay. . . .”

Her voice turns whisper-soft. The melody seeps into me, and I do as she says.

“If you drowned, I'd be left alone.” She caresses my hair. “Let's think about the beautiful life we're about to have. We'll fish and feed each other berries and fruits. We'll drink rain and coconut water. We can survive perfectly happy, alone, just the two of us.”

She presses her mouth against my closed eyes. The warmth of her breath runs slowly from my eyelids, down my entire body to my toes. She kisses my lips, and my mind is emptied of
everything except Blyss's sweet taste.

Until I see flashes of Gus's contorted face.

I've got a dark feeling creeping inside me like a silent, deadly surf, rising and falling, bringing with it condemnation. I'm catapulted into reality. My voice is strong. “That island is much farther than it looks. We'd dehydrate and wouldn't survive without liquid in this heat.” I let go of the raft and wave my hand toward the apex behind us. “Come on! In an hour we'll be back safe on shore.”

Blyss slaps the water. “Stop pissing me off and let's go!”

“You don't want to be fresh bait for sharks, do you?” I keep a careful eye on the rapidly growing waves. The water begins to get colder. A shiver works up my spine.

BOOK: Cornered
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