Send her back? Did he seriously think I would light some random chick on fire?
I looked at Jacob to tell him he was crazy, that he wasn’t a ghost, that this girl wasn’t a demon, and that the beer I had earlier was probably spiked with acid, but the girl lunged forward and wrapped her hands around my neck. Her fingers felt like icy knives and they sank into my skin with startling precision. The feeling made me sick. And I couldn’t breathe.
“Do it!” Jacob yelled again and made a go for the girl. I couldn’t see what happened but her hands eventually let go and I was left breathless. I looked down to see him tackle her to the ground. He pinned her wrists down and she wriggled beneath them, hissing.
“They don’t let us leave!” he cried out. “The keep us here!”
The girl made a swift kick to Jacob’s groin. Ghost or not, it made him double over in pain. Then she fizzled again, skin bubbling, facial features disappearing until she was a hazy image above the carpet. The only thing that remained was that open, fathomless hole that was her mouth. And it came for me.
Without thinking, I flicked the lighter on and held it out in front of me as the shape collided into me.
I kept the flame going as the back of my head smashed against the wall behind me. Paintings rattled to the floor.
The girl, whatever was left of her, was suddenly outlined by the glow of the flames, like she was traced by some giant pen of golden ink. Her shape came into my vision, then turned into an actual girl again. Normal looking. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground as the sick, hungry flames consumed her, skin first.
I felt sick but couldn’t look away. The girl wriggled on the floor until she was no more. She just vanished, leaving only ash, while the fire began to move along the upstairs carpet toward the stairs, licking at the wet walls.
I looked at Jacob, who was struggling to his feet. He nodded at me, the spiky tips of his Mohawk glowing in the flames’ light.
Suddenly the door to the bedroom opened and the guy in the Linkin Park T-shirt wandered out. He froze at the sight of me, standing in the hallway, lighter in hand, gas can at my side, and the fire, which quickly ate up the crunchy carpet.
“Holy shit!” the guy cried out. I guess I should have been relieved that he was alive and that girl hadn’t killed him, but any sense of relief was taken away when he yelled. “Fire! There’s a girl up here, she started a fire!”
Then he burst past me in the hallway, leaping over the flames while screaming at the same time and ran down the stairs. I could hear the panic and commotion that resulted downstairs. People screaming, yelling, glasses breaking, drunks colliding with each other, falling down.
I looked at Jacob and then down at the lighter. The guy hadn’t seen Jacob. He didn’t know anything about the girl. It just looked like I, Perry Palomino, the fat sophomore, had tried to light Adrianna Gee’s house on fire.
It was one hell of an accident.
~~
I woke up to something licking my face.
I sat up straight, expecting to fight something. But it was just Fat Rabbit, standing on top of my chest and wriggling around. His nails sank into my abdomen and I winced at the pressure.
“Aw, come on,” I groaned and pushed him lightly off of me. He gave me a look and then darted out the door, which had been open a crack.
I looked down at myself in the light that came from the living room. I was back in Dex’s den. I didn’t know where I expected to wake up, but I had a feeling that my dreams had been exceedingly epic. I was covered in sweat again.
I held my hands out in front of me. The back of my left one was swollen and tight, a pale pink shade from the wasp sting. I grimaced at the sight as the memories of last night came flooding into my brain:
The man in the cell. Something about his featureless face was suddenly so familiar. Had I seen him before somewhere? Was he in my dream? I felt like I had dreamt about high school again, so that didn’t make much sense. But when did my dreams ever make sense.
Then there was the Spook Factory, essentially sabotaging us and not letting us out of the basement. Had they gotten everything they wanted? Did they see the footprints, the man in the cell? Did Annie get a cold finger down her spine?
And Miss Anonymous ended up being Jenn. Good ol’ Jennifer Rodriguez. Rebecca was certainly right about her. I wondered if she also knew about the comments. Or maybe it was just Dex. Dex trying to be a loyal boyfriend despite how disloyal he sometimes was. The idea that she had been sitting here in this room and giggling away at the computer as she told me I was fat and worthless…it caused my heart to thump hard in my chest. I was angry again, so very angry.
And finally there was the question. Dex had asked if I loved him. And I lied to save face. Why did he ask that to begin with? Did he suspect? Did he want me to have said yes, and if so, why? Either because he felt the same way or he wanted to have something else to lord over me.
I sighed long and hard, blowing out every last bit of air in an attempt to release the vibrant frustration that was building up inside of me. I was usually one of those people who woke up feeling calm after a hectic night, but suddenly I was just angry all over again. And I knew just who was getting the brunt of it.
I slipped my pajama pants on and padded my way across the room, opening the door and stepping out into the sun-soaked apartment. For once I wished it was raining; it would have suited my mood better.
Dex was sitting at the bar, his back to me, slurping back on a bowl of cereal. He was still in his blue plaid pajama pants but was shirtless. His hair was all ruffled and messy.
I stopped and watched him for a beat, gathering my thoughts. He turned around to look at me and jumped a little on his stool.
“Jesus!” he cried out and leaped off, his spoon clattering loudly into the bowl.
He rushed over to me, looking me up and down in horror, and then picked up my hand to examine the sting on the back of it.
“It’s fine,” I assured him. It wasn’t killing me, at least.
He shook his head and then moved on to my other arm, where another welt had formed just below the elbow. He touched it gently with his finger. I winced. It started to itch again.
He sucked in his lip and then placed both his warm hands on the side of my face. I didn’t like him being so up close first thing in the morning. I probably had sleep in my eyes and my teeth needed a good brushing. I knew I was too tired to do it last night; we had come straight home, got into dry clothes and went to bed.
“Nothing on your face,” he said, still eyeing every crevice of it.
I smiled, tight-lipped and went to move away but he wasn’t done yet. I closed my eyes as one of his hands went to the back of neck and settled on the large sting I had there. That one hurt and itched worst of all and he wasn’t making it any better.
“Oh, Perry, I’m sorry,” he said over a soft breath. Then he let go of me and walked off to the bathroom. I opened my eyes and let out the air I was holding.
“Where’s Jenn?” I asked tentatively.
“Out,” he replied from the bathroom. He returned with a tube of prescription cream, probably hydrocortisone.
He put a bit on his finger. I was distracted by his bare chest. His tattoo, And with madness comes the light. Like hell that was a song lyric. That meant something more than that to him, just as his “mark of a criminal” fleur-de-lis did.
He reached back behind my neck and gently dabbed the cream on, swirling it around in a massaging motion. I felt my eyes closing again at the caress of his fingers.
No. I’m still mad at you, I thought. My eyes flew open and I stepped back. I took the cream from his hands.
“I’m fine, Dex; I can put the cream on myself. I’m not a cripple.” It probably came out a bit ungrateful, so I shot him a weak smile. He looked hurt and confused.
“OK,” he said and nodded. He still stood there. “I’m really sorry.”
I frowned at him and began to rub the cream on my hand. “Sorry for what?”
“Everything.”
Oh, well, I guess that covers it.
“I mean,” he started and pointed at his body. I eyed his arms and chest awkwardly, not wanting to give it too much of my time. “Look at me. I’ve got nothing on me. One sting Perry, and I would have died.”
“I know,” I said softly, keeping my attention on the meticulous way I was applying the cream.
“And you saved my life. You could have died too, allergic or not, if a lot of those wasps had got you…”
“But I didn’t. And neither did you.” I started now on the welt on my other arm. I didn’t want to get into such a serious topic. I was still mad about the Anonymous thing and I didn’t want to be distracted.
“Please, look at me.” He placed two fingers underneath my chin and tilted my head up. I met his eyes and immediately felt exposed.
“What?” I said underneath my breath.
His eyes looked wet and shiny, a layer of sadness and regret over them. I didn’t like to see him that way. I wanted the hard, flippant, uncaring Dex. Looking into these eyes made my nerves crumble.
“I’m sorry about Jenn,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was leaving the comments.”
I tried to look away but he wouldn’t let me. He stuck his face closer to mine in an effort to express himself. The anger I felt throttling through me moments earlier was quickly subsiding, leaving me exhausted. I just wanted to forget about it now.
“I should have told you, I see that now. But I was protecting her and I thought I was protecting you in a weird way. It’s better to think it’s a bunch of sad, anonymous losers instead of the girlfriend of your partner. And I was…embarrassed. I still am. Really fucking embarrassed.”
I raised my brow at him. He took his fingers away from my face and walked back toward the bar top. I watched his hips shake with each step, the way the sides of his back disappeared smoothly into the flannel band of his pants. No love handles there, not like me.
He raised his face to the ceiling, still keeping his back to me.
“I just hoped Jenn wasn’t like that,” he added. “I knew she was a bitch, and that was fine because I’m an ass, but I didn’t know she could be that bad.”
“But she is,” I said. “And you have to live with that.”
He leaned against the bar in silence, then sat back on the stool and resumed eating his cereal, which was probably all mushy by now.
I went over and pulled up the stool next to him, my bare feet cold against the metal rungs at the bottom.
Dex stared down at his bowl and pushed the soggy Fruit Loops around and around, creating a mini whirlpool of milk. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Dump her ass, you moron. That’s what I wanted to say. But I could see Dex was opening up here and tormented by the situation. I kept silent. I wanted to comfort him but at the same time, I wanted him to see the truth of the matter. That their relationship was dead. It had been disintegrating all week, probably long before I got here, and it was on its final legs. There was no point beating around the bush, no point in keeping it going. It was sick, destroyed by the selfishness of both of them, and because I was on the outside, I was the only one in this apartment who could see it.