INIQUITOUS

CHAPTER XLIII

CHAPTER XLIII

Irvin leaned against the bikes shed, dressed in a bright yellow sweatshirt and ripped blue jeans, a single gold chain was wrapped around his neck, and his loose black curls were caressed by the wind. He held out his spliff to me and I took it in my mouth, inhaling, holding the smoke, and blowing it out, tilting my head back, muscles unwinding and relaxing. Transparent and whitish smoke swirled in the air between us. I held in another inhale for longer, euphoric and at ease, life sure was tolerable when you had a dealer for a friend.

Winnie sat on a crumbling stone step, a burnt cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth, red lipstick stained, and phone vibrating with incoming text messages. Her pink painted nails were chipped and her dreadlocks were sprayed with temporary purple dye. It was a good look. For the first time since I gave Eton the thumbs up, I wondered what life would be like without her. She was the first person I took a liking to when I moved to Springbridge last year. She made classes tolerable, and created some stomach-splitting and fond memories with me. I did like her. I would miss her if she died. The longer I stared at her, the more I became overcome with emotions. I cherished our friendship, and realised how shitty I've been treating her. Eton cast aside, I could consider her family.

I exhaled the smoke and handed the spliff to Irvin who kissed me on the mouth deeply and drew away, back to smoking. I searched my bag for food and found a packet of salted peanuts. Tearing open the packet and crunching through a handful, I wondered aloud. "It takes me longer to get high lately. Like, when I first started smoking it was great. I was in a whole 'nother world. My eyes were burnt red, I was talking to aliens and I could eat through an entire fast food menu. But now, lately, shit hasn't been doing much for me. Right now my mouth is slightly dry and eating peanuts isn't helping my situation. I'm tired, but when am I not? I can still last through a day of school and I feel like I'd still suffer. I want to sit through my classes completely out of my mind."

"Try coke," Irvin suggested, distracted by his phone.

"Mm," Winnie grunted, attention far away from the bike shed. "Yeah. Do that."

"My phone is dead. You two aren't interested. I'm bored. I'm leaving."

"See you," the two chorused.

Sometime later, I came upon a beetroot red Rodger stumbling out of a storage room, t-shirt crumpled and appearance disarrayed. He was brushing his hair with his hands, eyes wide and confused like a trapped animal, bottom lip bleeding. I asked. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Uh, I...Nothing...Uh, I gotta dash," he shoved past me, hurrying along the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

The door to the storage room opened and out walked Satan's hideous sidekick. Her long plaits were gone, dusty black hair cut into a choppy bob cut, emphasising her gaunt ashy-pale face, sharp chin, and cruel eyes. Her dress sense hadn't changed, dressed in an oversized burgundy cardigan and plaid shirt. She stank of mothballs and something rotten; misery. Losing her twin hadn't done her any favours; she looked like she'd been through hell and back. Oran locked gazes with me, froze momentarily, and then wiped a bony hand across her wet mouth. "Cleo," she sneered, revealing her modified sharpened teeth (which looked fucking ridiculous, who the hell in their right mind would subject themselves to such torture? What a freak.) she continued, "what the hell are you staring at?"

"A freak show," I said, sniffed, twisted my expression, "damn, if you're going to trespass you should really take a detour to the showers, I'll buy you some soap and fresh clothes, you're in desperate need of a bath."

"I don't need anything from you!" she hissed in a fit.

"OK," I said slowly, wary of her unwarranted temper. "What are you doing here? Weren't you expelled? What was Rodger doing in the closet with you?"

"We're together," she announced, a small smile to her face, happy.

I laughed. Stopped. "Oh, shit. You're serious?" I scorned with the utmost contempt. "You're a monstrosity, a malformation of nature, you're a failed abortion, a broken condom, an outcast of society. No-one wants you. No man would ever choose to be with you. You're a freak and anyone taking interest in you is only doing so out of sympathy or mockery. I'm really sorry to tell you this, Oran," I placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezed, lips upturned in spite, "but you're going to die alone and unloved. Rodger would never willingly be with you. What, you gave him a sloppy blowjob in the closet? That doesn't mean shit. Sexual favours are handed around like it's gum around here. He was using you. You're not together. Sorry to break this news to you, but you've been played and taken advantage of. If I were you, I'd go home and slit my wrists. No, no, no, wait. Drink bleach. Record it. Put it on YouTube. I'll subscribe."

Her momentary happiness was pulverised by my cruel words. She was visibly hurt, and she blinked, eyes wide and wet, vulnerable. "He said he likes me–!"

"It was a lie, a fabrication of the truth; no-one likes you. Rodger's ex was Ira Paris. She's a flexible cheerleader. You're a ..." I grimaced, "well, you get my point. Don't delude yourself into a relationship. Aim lower. I've got a suggestion; the trashcan in the cafeteria could do with a caretaker. Go for him. You'd go well together."

She shrugged my hand away from her, her personality changing as quick as a snap of fingers; sardonically amused and keeping her flaming temper at bay with a steady hand. "Oh, you play it well," she cooed like a mother would to a child, contemptuous, eyeing me with a dark eye, "I'm going to expose and ruin you, Cleo. You're nothing more than a character. How do you do it?" she circled me with the interest one would show to a zoo animal. "Is it hard, day in day out pretending to be someone you're not? I give you credit; you're convincing. My sister believed you at first. You were just another replica of every other student; stupid, a bully, immature with an uncharacteristically inflated ego, but I refused to believe it. You have cracks in your mask. You watch everyone as if you're beneath them. Take on a kind tone and spew hateful, soul-destroying words. You're a bitch, Cleo. A cruel bitch. But I'm back and I'll be there behind you in your classes, watching you. I know what you did, I know what you are and I'm here to dethrone you. The game has been changed. You are the prey. I am the hunter. And your time is running out."

I laughed, humoured by her exaggerated theatrics and grave tone, it was hilarious. Then just as sudden as the fit of giggles came along it vanished, and I grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against the door of the storage room, rattling the frame from sheer force. My facial expression was distorted into rage and hatred of the purest kind. My voice was low. "You don't frighten me, Oran, and your threats are child play. I would brush you away like the pesky fly you are, but I'm bored and you've caught my interest. We'll play this game. Loser dies. And this isn't no high school movie, this is real life and your heart will stop beating," I squeezed her throat tighter, smiled impishly, "by my hand, of course." I paused, dropped my gaze to her mouth, inclining forward, nose brushing against hers. "You stare at me as if you're going to kiss me. Are you, Oran? Is this a ploy to get closer to me? If it is, I must say I'm flattered. But you're not my type."

She shoved me away, disgust etched on her features. "Your ego will damn you."

"I am so scared," I added on, tone pleasant. "I must thank you for challenging me, I will take great pleasure in ending you. Think of it as an honour." The end of lunch bell rang above us, ushering students to their afternoon classes. I mock saluted her. "See you around, buddy."

***