The Burnouts (11 page)

She hugged his body and buried her face into the dry-cleaned fabric of his suit. She let her tears soak in. She could hear the heavy thump of his heart and with every beat she felt a wave of heat come through his tuxedo.

He sat her down on a bed in a room with clay-colored shag carpeting. The bedspread was paisley and pillow-soft.

“I miss you,” David said.

“I miss you too. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m always with you.”

“So am I,” Will said.

Will was on her other side on the bed now. He took one of her hands, and David took the other. They both wore gold wedding bands on their ring fingers.

“Will,” Lucy said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“I already know. It’s okay.”

“You do?”

“Kelly’s fine.”

“Kelly?”

“We made a beautiful daughter,” Will said. He smiled and turned away. She followed his gaze to the doorway where a five-year-old blonde girl stood, on the edges of her feet. The fabric had just started to pill on the fuzzy flannel pajamas she wore. The light from the hallway was radiant and the little girl seemed to glow.

“Mommy, are you scared?” the little girl said.

Lucy’s eyes flooded.

“No baby, come here,” Lucy said, and it felt so natural to say it.

Her daughter ran to her. Little feet taking quick little steps. Pudgy arms reaching out. She hugged her daughter’s tiny body close. When Lucy had been a little girl, she had always wanted a teddy bear that would hug her back, and this was sort of like that, but so much more. The love she felt for her daughter drowned out every other feeling. It filled the room. It filled everything that there was in Lucy’s world. She promised herself she would never let go, and for what must have been an hour, she didn’t. It wasn’t until the glow of her love seeped away, and the warmth of her daughter’s body grew chill, that Lucy opened her eyes to find herself lying on the floor of the Burnout drug den, clutching the hydrangea flower to her chest.

Just like that, it was over. The aches began to return to Lucy’s body. Bile sat near her, swaying forward and back with eyelids hanging low and a gasoline-soaked sock in his hand.
There was soil on her belly. She realized that she’d pulled the flower out of its pot during her hallucination, and the pot lay in shards on the floor by her feet.

The foulness of the stinker still lingered in her mouth. Her trash bag was stowed safely behind Bile. Lucy crawled over to it and dug through until she found her toothbrush, and small sliver of soap, her only soap left for bathing. She popped the soap sliver in her mouth and chewed. Once she got a lather going she got the brush in there. She scrubbed relentlessly and when the suds would get too big she’d spit it all on the floor, and keep going. Eventually there was no suds left, just the bitter taste of soap inside her raw mouth.

Bile’s eyelids eventually flickered wide.

“I watched over you,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

Lucy shivered. For a brief beautiful time she had known escape, and love, and safety, but now those things were gone, and everything that she had run from was still here, still true, still too much for her heart to handle.

Bile brought the sock to his face and cupped it over his nose and mouth. He dragged in a full lungful, and she watched his ribs puff out. He stared at the ceiling as he held it in. Bile finally let his air out, and his swaying grew more pronounced. His eyelids drifted closed, then pulled themselves halfway open again, then drifted shut again.

“What does that feel like?” Lucy said, pointing to the sock in his hand.

Bile moved like he was underwater. He uncapped the jug of gasoline and dribbled a bit of gas into the sock. Bile held the sock out for Lucy.

She took it.

THE MORNING SUN ROASTED HILARY’S FLESH
. She lay absolutely still on her towel, with the gun at her side. Her bikini had to stay in the exact same place for her entire tanning session or her tan lines would be blurry. Blurry tan lines were for slobby girls, and Hilary was no slob. She didn’t understand how other girls didn’t care. Some didn’t have swimsuits of their own, so they’d borrow whatever one they could get and they’d be laying out with a different-shaped suit each day. When they’d wear a low-cut top, their chests would be a mess. Who were these girls who could put up with weird triangles of paleness all over their tits? Didn’t they have any self-esteem?

Hilary didn’t have that problem. She knew how beautiful she was. She knew how much she deserved attention and that she was meant for greater things. People had always hated her for not having doubt in herself. They thought she was
conceited but she wasn’t. She was a realist. They all had eyes. They knew she was something rare, something precious, and that like it or not, they weren’t. Let them hate her. It wasn’t her fault who their parents were. They should just accept it. That would be the healthy thing. They were only mad because they were all unwilling to really take an honest look at themselves in the mirror, and she was always forcing them to, by simply being in the same room.

Hilary lay in the center of the empty quad. She sunbathed alone, while crowds of people stood with their towels in the hallways, waiting for the Varsity members posted at each hallway to tell them they were allowed to walk onto the quad. When one Skater girl, Marsha Buchanon, had gotten really tan, it was all the pale girls in McKinley could talk about. And there were a lot of pale girls. It had become so popular, even the darker-skinned girls started coming out too, just to socialize. They were hating it now though. They despised her for making them wait, for insisting that the sunshine was hers to enjoy alone. The halls were overstuffed with grumbling kids who kicked at the dirt, and cursed her name. She could feel the anger radiating from them, and it soothed her like a hot stone massage. It felt good to be on top again. Things were as they should be.

She tongued the borrowed tooth in her mouth. The superglue ruined her tongue for food, but it was a small price to pay for having a complete set. She had the Freak girl to thank
for that. Hilary had told the girl she’d blow her brains out if she ever talked, but promised to cut her lips off first. Lucy was the only other person who knew about Hilary’s missing tooth. Hilary would love to know if Lucy was still alive. She hadn’t seen her since that night the goblin boy in the dress had dragged her away. Hopefully to murder her.

A drop of sweat slid down her left cheek from her upper lip. She wiped it away. Another drop dripped. She touched her hand to the wetness. When she pulled her hand away from her face, she saw red. A smear of blood across the back of her hand. Blood. She wiped it on her towel before anyone could see.

Hilary sat up in a panic and covered her nose. Was this really happening? Was she transitioning out of infection? It should have made her happy. Getting a nosebleed was what every McKinley student wanted. But Hilary had barely had a chance to capitalize on her new power. She held a hunk of machined metal in her hand that could blow holes in people with the pull of a finger. It could make people do anything she wanted. That presented a precious opportunity. She looked up to the crane arm in the sky overhead. Suddenly, there was so much to do.

Hilary looked down on everyone from her throne. It was a volleyball ref chair that she’d made the Geeks transform into a throne by covering every inch of it in broken pieces of old
school trophies. It sparkled with golden light. Her towering throne had been placed in the center of the basketball court specifically for this meeting.

Below her, the leader of every gang sat around a table. She was amazed by how quickly the leaders had fallen in line. It had only been an hour and a half since her nose had bled and she’d put the word out. The only one she had the slightest respect for was Zachary the Geek. He was wearing an emerald-encrusted turban and a canary yellow robe, and he made it work. She knew she’d need him the most of any of them, and he’d probably make it through this without a bullet in the head. P-Nut, on the other hand, that mutt, she hoped he gave her a reason to shoot him. And by the look on his face, he knew it. He was regretting that he had ever asked her to be a whore. The boy was shaking in his skinny jeans. Bobby Corning was useless, but he had always adored her. Hilary knew less about the other three: Henry the Nerd, Lark the Saint, and Lips the Slut. They were replacement leaders, but they’d have to obey just the same.

Hilary tickled the hammer of the gun with her thumb. She craved to feel it blast again. She could tell that was going to be a problem for her.

Terry hopped onto the basketball court on one foot. He held a full glass of water. His injured foot was bundled in reddened gauze and athletic tape, and he kept all weight off it. He clenched his teeth and stared at the glass, careful to not
let any water slosh out. She’d told him she’d shoot him in his other foot if he spilled a drop.

“It’s about time, I asked for that water forever ago,” Hilary said. “Why don’t you pour it on your head.”

Terry hesitated and she raised the gun. He promptly drenched himself. All the other gang leaders watched the leader of Varsity humiliate himself at her command, and it had to be having an effect on them.

Hilary stood up in her chair. “Whether you know it or not, all of you are guilty of disrespect.” She began to gesticulate with the gun. “Payback starts now—Linda!”

Linda scurried in like a scared mouse and dropped a white envelope in front of each leader.

“In those envelopes, you’ll find your instructions. From now until tomorrow afternoon, your gang is at my fucking disposal. You will do exactly as those instructions say and more, if I ask you to. Everything has to be carried out to perfection. If your gang falls short, if they screw up a single detail, I start poking holes through people. Starting with you. Any questions?”

Bobby slowly raised his hand.

“What’s happening tomorrow?” he said.

Hilary smiled and cocked her gun.

“Prom.”

WILL CLUNG TO THE COLD METAL RUNGS OF
the maintenance ladder in the elevator shaft. His old elevator home hung by cable just below him. Lucy had to be there.

The longer he’d been in the school, the clearer it had become that this plan had been busted from the start. The school was too big and too dangerous for it to go right. He’d been shocked by how many gangs were roving the halls at night. It was as if they were bored of their usual hangouts and they were looking for trouble, not avoiding it. By the time Will had gotten to the plant room, his best guess to find Lucy, it was morning, and she hadn’t been there. He’d spent most of the day hiding and contemplating the fact that Lucy could be anywhere. She could be hiding, asleep in a locker, and he could walk right by her and never see her again.

He had to depend on faith. It had been that thought, over and over, that had recharged his weary body, and ejected him
back into the halls. He had to believe he would find Lucy soon. He had to believe that they were destined to be together, and that coming into McKinley, hunting for her on deadly terrain, was proof that he was worthy of that destiny.

She was in the elevator, he told himself.

He was going to do the jump, he’d done it more times than he could remember. It was nothing to him, he just had to catch his breath. The only problem was he’d been trying to do that for the last three minutes, and his breaths couldn’t come fast enough. He was pushing too hard, and he knew it. He hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since he’d been outside.

Spots twinkled in his vision. He felt dizzy. The possibility crossed his mind that he could pass out and fall to his death, so he jumped. Will’s heels hit the roof of the elevator car and he fell to his knees. He still couldn’t catch his breath, but now he realized the air was hardly coming through the filter. Something was wrong with his mask.

The filter had to be clogged. It felt like he was underwater, breathing through a hundred-foot drinking straw. He crawled for the elevator hatch. Lucy might be inside. He was only getting air in little sips, and his exhales were bubbling. On his knees he lifted the hatch to the elevator. The exertion made his vision gray out and his head feel filled with helium. Will’s muscles quit and he fell forward, straight through the hatch, and into the elevator.

His back slapped the linoleum floor, and his head followed
with a crack. By the dim emergency lights, he could see the cold truth. Lucy wasn’t here. He was alone in an empty box.

He sucked in empty breaths like a dying frog. He’d been dreaming, thinking Lucy would be here. He stared at the fallen shelves he and David had put up. This was crazy. He was dying fast. He had only a trickle of air coming through, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it. He fumbled with the front of his mask, tugging at things that wouldn’t budge, trying to figure out what could be clogging his air, but it was too late. Panic was crushing his throat. His lungs were spinning, confused and hating him for not giving them air. Will ached to yank his mask off now. What was a better way to die? Silent and choking or red and explosive? He didn’t have the guts to go out big. He wriggled in pain and slapped the wall with fading strength.

Time slowed, and Will realized he couldn’t stop it. He became weirdly serene. His mind drifted to Lucy and the future they wouldn’t have together. He saw his son. The boy looked more like Will than Lucy. Although he could see a little of her in his eyes and his hair. Will had forgotten about the natural color of Lucy’s hair. It was a deep gold with traces of brown like the grain of lacquered pine. He hadn’t seen her hair like that since the first day of school. The boy’s golden bangs kept falling into his eyes and he couldn’t be bothered with clearing them out of his way. That was just like Will. He knew in his heart, that boy would be wild.

He saw them living in a modest Pale Ridge house, a fixer-upper, with
THORPE
hand-painted on the mailbox. Lucy was good at that kind of thing. And Will had gotten good at fixing gutters and replacing windows. Even though it wasn’t how he would have wanted to spend his weekends after working a boring job all week, he found joy in it, because it was his house he’d bought with his wife. He supposed that was what love was.