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“And why is that?”
“Because he’s an animal, Theo! You saw what he did to me.”
I did see. Sullivan grabbed Davis by his shirt collar, wrenched him up out of his seat, dragged him out behind the gym, and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. Without a word. Without even a warning.
At the time, I thought it was evidence that Sullivan was just as mean as he looked. It certainly tallied with his rudeness and his perpetual foul mood.
But it doesn’t synch up at all with what I know about him now.
“What were you fighting about, anyway?”
Davis’ expression is shocked and hurt. “Nothing, I told you! He attacked me out of nowhere. I thought we were friends!”
That doesn’t make sense to me—even if the look Sullivan’s giving Davis from across the room seems like we might be on the verge of a second-round beatdown. Sully was an asshole in high school. But I only saw him punch first once.
“He didn’t say anything? Even after?”
“No!” Davis insists. “We never talked again. My parents wanted to prosecute, but I—“ He pauses, corrects himself. “I told them not to.”
“Why not?”
“Because wewerefriends before. And I figured he had it bad enough after what happened to…well, you know.” Davis shrugs uncomfortably.
Sullivan’s mom had just been murdered. Maybe that’s why he snapped. But something still feels off.
The heat in the room keeps climbing. Sweat slides down my spine. I see Carl Blythe, Marcus Ferguson, a girl from my PE class…familiar faces distorted by age and weight and new hairstyles. The decade gone by is a carnival mirror, twisting and warping my classmates.
Why are they here? What’s happening?
Sullivan is trapped on the other side of the room with Angus, not listening as my boss yaks in his ear, his dark gaze returning again and again to me and Davis.
He looks angry.
It feels like the room is shrinking…I know this is a trap, but I have no idea when the teeth will snap shut.
“How long have you two been dating, anyway?” Davis sidles closer. “Because if it’s not serious?—“
“Excuse me.” I just spotted Martinique. Cutting through the crowd, I grab her by the arm.
“Hey!” she chirps. “Have you?—“
“There’s a shit ton of people here from my old high school.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her, her, him…” I point with my eyes while Martinique, ever subtle, turns her whole body and squints like she’s trying to read an eye test.
“I didn’t invite any of those people.”
“I know,” I hiss. “It was?—“
“Enjoying the party?” Jessica purrs, cutting through the crowd like a green-sequined Moses.
I sometimes think Jessica is the source of all those Hollywood baby-eating rumors—the more evil she looks, themore beautiful she becomes. She’s really outdone herself today with the glitter makeup and the waist-length hair extensions. In her platform shoes and kimono robe, she resembles a space empress, like she should be carried around on a palanquin by several brawny, shirtless men.
It’s intimidating. Even Martinique looks terrified. “I asked Consuela if she had any more?—“
Jessica cuts her off like she doesn’t exist, her pale eyes locked on me alone. “I thought you’d be impressed by how many of your old friends I managed to track down.”
