Hysteria (22 page)

But in the morning, there was something dried and stiff across my shoulder. Drops
of blood, sticking my skin to my shirt. I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
I hissed and shivered. Because underneath the dried blood, a blister had formed and
burst along one of the finger marks on my shoulder.

I ran my finger along my skin and brought a dark drop of blood close to my face.

Then I smeared it across the mirror, just to make sure it was real.

Chapter 12

I
ran the faucet full blast, scooped up handfuls of water, and splashed them over my
shoulder repeatedly, soaking my shirt, my arm, and the ends of my hair. I dabbed at
the broken skin with paper towels and glanced in the mirror again.

There were eyes over my shoulder. Blue, and curious. Bree stood too close, staring
at the handprint on my shoulder
—
at the blood. Then she slowly raised her eyes to meet mine in the mirror. I jerked
the wet shirt back over my shoulder. “It was an accident,” I said, and the words echoed
around the bathroom.

“Did she tell you to say that?” Bree whispered.

“Did
who
tell me to say that?” I asked, spinning to face her.

She shook her head quickly. “Never mind.”

“No, Bree,” I said, because she was squeezing her eyes shut, which is what I did when
I was thinking of something I didn’t want to think about. “Who?”

She laughed quietly to herself. “Nobody. God, it’s this place, you know? I can’t sleep
here. And now I’m losing my mind.” She laughed again. And then she seemed to realize
she was alone. In the bathroom. With me. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“I get it,” I said, to make her stop moving away. “I can’t sleep here either. Not
without sleeping pills.”

Her cheeks tensed, like maybe she was trying to smile, but didn’t quite remember how.
She left the room first. I followed as quickly as I could, but the door across the
hall had already latched behind her.

I stepped on a pink paper just inside my room. I unfolded it and swore under my breath.
A violation form for unauthorized visitation. A revocation of all visitation privileges
for two weeks. At least I could still see Reid during study hall. I was more concerned
with the carbon copy obviously missing below. I cringed, thinking about it making
its way to my parents.

I had an e-mail from Reid, trying to find overlapping free time, since he also lost
visitation
and
study hall privileges.

I wrote back:
I
didn’t
lose
study
hall.

He responded:
second
violation.

I didn’t respond to that. I got a knot in my stomach, thinking of another girl in
his room. Which I knew was ridiculous. But still. I wondered if it was Taryn. And
what they were caught doing. It reminded me that there was all this history here that
I didn’t know anything about.

I heard my name in the whispers throughout the classroom. Mr. Durham walked around
the U-shaped tables, collecting our
Lord of the Flies
essays. He took my paper with the tips of his fingers, not even looking at me. But
everyone else was looking, even more than usual. Like the new rumor circulating around
school, making its way from wallet to wallet, was that I’d been caught in Reid’s room.

“Slut.” I heard from somewhere across the room, followed by a few snickers. Okay,
apparently not. Apparently the rumor was that I’d been caught screwing Reid Carlson
in his room. Good to know.

“Don’t listen,” Chloe said. She leaned toward me. “Next week, it’ll be something else.”

Of course. Because here at Monroe, you could transform in a day. How quickly I had
gone from
girl-who-escaped-the-roof
to
girl-who-slashes-own-shirts-for-attention
to
slut.

And then I started laughing. Horrible, really. But I was laughing. Because of all
the things they could say about me, equal parts horrible and true, this was so far
from the mark it was funny.

We were treading water in the ocean, Colleen and I, Brian and Dylan, Joe and Sammy,
and Cody Parker. We were out past the spot where the waves broke, drifting with the
surfboards, all pointed toward the horizon.

Colleen was hanging on Cody’s back, trying to dunk him, but not really. They all had
their surfboards, everyone but me, but nobody was trying to do any surfing. It was
just an excuse for us to be out here, on the beach for the surfers and not for the
swimmers, which was full of tourists.

Brian had one hand on his board and one arm wrapped around me, holding me up. I couldn’t
tread water on my own with his arm around me anyway. His legs kept getting in the
way. “Chill out, Mallory,” he’d said. “I’m not gonna let you drown.”

But I couldn’t stop my legs from kicking, or my free arm from making small circles
in the water. So eventually he hauled me onto his surfboard, so I was less annoying,
I guess. But I guess that got pretty boring pretty damn fast, because, while Joe was
still in the middle of a sentence, Brian untied the back of my bathing suit.

“Jesus, Brian,” I’d said, trying to grab onto the back and tie it together again.
But then Brian flipped the surfboard, and I didn’t even have time to take a breath.
I swallowed salt water and broke through the surface, still choking on water, trying
to stay afloat while simultaneously holding the back of my suit together.

Brian laughed and pulled me toward him. And since I needed one hand to hold my top
on, I couldn’t let go of him without falling under again. I held on tightly to his
neck. Brian was laughing, but he was looking at everyone else.

And Joe said, “Get a room already.”

Brian said, “You’re coming tonight, right?”

“Coming where?” I asked. And then I turned away and coughed again.

“Party at my place,” he said, like I should’ve known. But I didn’t.

And then Colleen said, “Still grounded.”

“What about you? Are you grounded too?” Brian asked, never taking his eyes off me.

I was still pressed up against him, and I could see Dylan out of the corner of my
eye, watching us. So I said, “No. And my parents will be out anyway.” And then Brian
kissed me on the mouth in front of everyone, and I didn’t pull away because I was
still trying to figure out how to tie my bathing suit back on.

“Let’s surf,” Dylan said. He paddled past me without a glance in my direction. Brian
backed away, smiling, as I struggled to stay both clothed and above water at the same
time. Colleen grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward her board. She didn’t surf.
Never had. But she’d had that board for years, for situations exactly like this. The
rest of them paddled closer to shore, sitting on their boards. Not quite surfing yet.
Pre-surfing, maybe.

Colleen turned me around and leaned down toward the water. She tied the knot, extra
tight. “Asshole,” she said.

I spun around, treading water a few inches away from her. “What’s your problem with
him?”

“What’s
my
problem? What’s
his
problem? You should be with someone else.”

I looked at the guys, straddling their boards, waiting for a wave. “Like who, Dylan?”

Colleen watched them as well. “No, not Dylan.” Then she dipped off her board into
the water, level with me, looked directly in my eyes, and said, “Brian isn’t right
for you.”

“You mean because he’s older? You think I don’t know how to act? What to do? You think
you’re the only one who can get an older guy?”

“Don’t be stupid, Mallory.”

“You’re telling
me
not to be stupid? Seriously?”

Colleen had stared at me, like she was waiting for me to say what she knew I was going
to say. I didn’t. But it didn’t matter. She knew I was thinking it. But she didn’t
yell. She said, “You’re not like me.” Which did something to the inside of me, because
suddenly I couldn’t stay above water. Not while I was facing her.

I started swimming away before she could see my face, but she grabbed onto my ankle
as I swam. “Don’t,” she said, even though I still wasn’t looking at her. I kicked
her off and swam for the surfboards. But she said it anyway. “I didn’t mean it like
that.”

Brian smiled as he saw me approaching. He pulled me onto his board, and we sat, facing
each other, while people caught waves around us. But his smile made me nervous, the
way he was kind of seeing me, but kind of not, and now Colleen’s words had settled
into my head.

“Sorry,” I said. “I forgot that I promised to help Colleen with something tonight.”

Brian groaned and said, “You’re killing me, Mallory. Absolutely killing me.”

I knew how I was supposed to feel when I was with him. Well, I knew what I was not
supposed to feel. I wasn’t supposed to feel anxious. Not tense either. Or maybe I
was. Maybe this was normal. I didn’t know. So I let him whisper in my ear and put
his hands on my hips. And I listened to him list all the ways in which I was slowly
killing him.

None of which turned out to be the actual way that I killed him.

It was funny. In a very unfunny way. But I couldn’t stop laughing. “Ms. Murphy,” Mr.
Durham seethed. “Do you find William Golding humorous? Does he make you laugh?”

“No, sir,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. And then I thought,
Well I am hysterical
, and I laughed some more.

“Please, enlighten us. What is so funny today?”

“This place,” I said, choking on my laughter. “And everyone in it.”

“You’re excused, Ms. Murphy.”

I wasn’t sure where I was being excused to, but the message was clear: get out. So
I did. It was raining again. Misting, really. Like you didn’t even notice it was raining
until you realized you were dripping wet.

I went back to the dorm and dialed home. Mom answered on the first ring.

“So,” I began, “there was a misunderstanding. It’s not a big deal, but there’s probably
a form being sent home to you.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?” Mom slowed her voice, and I could imagine her sitting
down.

“Well, I was doing some homework with a guy
—
Reid Carlson, actually
—
remember him?” Because I thought it might go over better if she did. “But I forgot
to check in.”