Denton’s Revenge
The bell rang and Anna continued down the hall into Denton’s class, sitting in her usual seat. It was finally last period, but things were getting off to a bad start. Denton was smirking at her from behind his desk, which was odd because he’d avoided eye contact with Anna ever since their tiff.
But when Denton stood to address the class, it was clear that quite a few things were out of the ordinary about him today. He hadn’t shaved and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot, as if he’d been crying for hours or hadn’t slept in days. Along with his loafers, blazer and tie, Denton wore plaid pajama bottoms. The cherry on top of this ensemble was his pot belly peeking out from behind his poorly buttoned shirt. A few muffled snickers were heard over the loud scraping of chairs as kids found their seats.
“Okay, time to settle, butts on wood,” Denton said in his trying-too-hard-to-be-cool voice. “Not clear on why we have so many absentees. But if you speak with your truant peers, tell them to read chapters six through ten for tomorrow. There will be a quiz. But since so many are out today, let’s skip the lecture and watch a video. What do you think, guys?”
The class cheered and Denton basked in the validation he so deeply craved.
“We have a special treat today,” Denton said. “A certain young lady—actually, lady isn’t the appropriate term. Let’s just say a certain female has made quite a splash on the interwebs with her exhibitionism.”
The hushed silence was broken by a spattering of nervous giggles. Anna’s limbs turned to concrete. He couldn’t be talking about her.
“Since this certain female likes to spout off at the mouth, let’s allow her the chance to comment on her video after our little screening. Sound good?”
No one said a word. The classroom held its collective breath. Denton looked right at Anna. “So nice that she came in all tarted up today for her big debut.”
Anna sank into her seat. This wasn’t happening. This couldn't be happening. But it was. A shock wave reverberated through the room. A few kids shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but the general feeling was one of a lurid momentum.
Denton clicked a remote and the flat-screen TV in front of the blackboard came to life, displaying shaky footage of Craig Shine sitting in front of a computer screen. She recognized the dirty green couch and the lewd posters—it was Izzy’s bedroom. And it was Izzy's voice coming from the TV, loud and distinct because he was holding the camera and standing in such a way that he was an invisible participant in the webcam chat Anna had so naively assumed was private. Izzy zoomed the camera in on the computer screen in front of Craig, and there it was, a live shot of Anna, her hair freshly fluffed, smiling like a goofball.
Anna watched herself do her "sexy" walk toward the webcam, looking thrilled, awkward, and ridiculous.
The classroom tittered with nervous laughter while Anna curled her fingers around the edge of her desk. They wanted her to run out of the room in tears, but she wouldn’t. She’d be strong. Anna turned and stared at Izzy in the back row. He was kicked back on two legs of his chair, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
Their eyes met and the river rage overflowed into thundering rapids. She would kill Izzy for this. The rough outline of a plan unfolded. Anna would play it cool for now and not make any threats. That way, when Izzy’s body was found, she wouldn’t immediately be a suspect. She’d act surprised, never telling anyone what she’d done, not even Dor. When it was over she’d find a way to live with herself.
Izzy paled as if reading her mind and shifted forward in his seat. The front legs of his chair hit the linoleum with a faint thunk.
“She's like a bitch in heat!” Frank's shrill voice erupted from the television. On the screen Izzy pointed the camera at Frank, who was perched like a vulture on the dirty green couch.
“Somebody turn it off!”
The high-pitched voice snapped the class out of its collective, salacious gaze. It was Tanisha Matthews, a designer-clad New Bloomtowner who Anna had never spoken to. She felt a rush of gratitude for Tanisha, but then everyone was pulled back in by Frank’s doofus baritone.
“Tell her you love her and shit!” Frank said. He sniffed his fingers, and his hyena laughter ratcheted through the TV.
Izzy swung the viewfinder back to Craig, who was nodding to music that wasn’t there, pretending to sing but really saying, “Bro, chill. I got this. She’s almost there.”
Bile rose in the back of Anna’s throat. That’s why Craig hadn’t wanted the sound on. She was such an idiot. Izzy zoomed the camera in on the monitor again and there Anna was, lifting her shirt and flashing her black bra. Craig pumped his fists in victory, but down low by his side, so that Anna hadn’t seen it on her webcam. “I told you she wants my jock,” Craig hissed through his teeth. “You just got owned. Fifty bucks.”
“No nipple. No cash,” Izzy said from behind the camera. “That was the deal.”
“You said tits,” Craig said.
“I didn’t see tits. I saw a bra over some tits. You said you could make her do anything.”
“Can you make her kill herself like her mom?” Frank said from the dirty green couch.
There were gasps in the classroom. It was the lowest of all blows.
On the TV in front of the blackboard, Craig laughed through his teeth, and then Anna typed “brb” and left her bedroom. From behind the camera Izzy said, “She better come back.”
But Anna hadn’t come back, thankfully. She’d walked into a different hell when she found Jack in the basement.
Knowing that her television debut was over, Anna allowed herself to breathe again as she watched the shaky footage of Craig snatching the camera from Izzy. Then Izzy's oily face filled the flat-screen.
“What's your beef with Fagan anyway, dude?” Craig asked from behind the camera. “You never got shot down before?”
Izzy stiffened. “I wouldn't touch that skank with Frank's junk.” His eyes darkened. “You ever have a messed-up dream? When I see her…it’s like looking at a nightmare or something.”
“Wus-bag” Craig said, and then Frank’s hyena laughter was cut short when the screen went black. Today’s lesson in suburban film noir was over.
The exorcism. As expected, Izzy couldn’t remember it, but he had retained a fear-response associated with Anna. Good. Let the bastard be scared. Too bad she hadn’t recorded a video of Izzy humping and licking his smutty poster. Now that would go viral. Anna collected her things from her desk and started for the classroom door, walking leisurely past Denton’s desk, keeping her head up. He’d wanted her to crack but no such luck. She’d come up against way worse than him in her life. Denton was small potatoes.
“Nothing to say, Ms. Fagan?” Denton asked, his voice shaking, sweat on his bald head.
Anna ignored him, knowing, as he must have, that soon it would be all over town that he'd shown a video of a student undressing in his classroom. Even the ostrich-like (“boys will be boys!”) Bloomtown High faculty couldn’t keep their heads in the sand for this one. Denton had just lost his job, or worse.
After entering the hallway, Izzy appeared beside her, pale and nervous.
“Don't get hormonal and do anything stupid,” he said. “It was a joke.”
This was curious. Why wasn’t Izzy relishing his victory? Then it clicked. He’d been driving around his mother’s white Camry for at least two years. Izzy was eighteen, a legal adult, and this webcam stunt would surely breach the protective bubble of the student body. In the real world, distributing provocative images of a minor was a giant no-no. A smile bloomed on her face.
“Welcome to the sex offender list, dingleberry—or as your neighbors for the rest of your life will call you, the Creepy Pedo Next Door.”
Izzy glowered at her, his eyes draining into his skull.
A handful of curious kids spilled out of the classroom, trailed by Denton. He yelled at them to get back inside, spittle spraying from his mouth, but he was wholly ignored. Realizing he’d lost any semblance of authority, Denton deflated and slunk back into the classroom.
It seemed like every last kid in the growing crowd around Izzy and Anna had their phone out. No one wanted to miss out on the next Goblin Girl spectacle, but Anna wasn’t about to provide the dramatic material. She turned to walk away and Izzy’s thick fingers dug into her sleeve. Anna struggled to free her arm, but Izzy held tight and her shirt came off her shoulder, exposing her bra strap. Aware of the camera phones aimed at him, Izzy had a new glint in his eye.
“Got the grandma special on today?” He snapped the beige cotton strap with his dry, rough fingers. “Are the black lacy numbers just for Shine?”
He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, enveloping her in a cloud of his body odor and sour breath. There was lust in his eyes and hatred, too. For Izzy, they were one and the same. The crowd closed in, as did the walls of Anna’s throat.
“Do anything stupid,” Izzy hissed in her ear, “and this”—he nodded at the growing number of recording cell phones—“will never be over for you.”
Her jaw clenched. Now Izzy was threatening her. Izzy who’d somehow killed Penelope. Peeps, who fit entirely in Anna’s hand when Jack brought her home from the shelter. Whose legs quickly grew so long and gangly that she’d stumble and slide across the kitchen floor racing to her food bowl, sending Jack and Anna into hysterics every time. Peeps, who had saved her puppies before she died, who had suffered at the end.
And then, with Izzy’s rancid breath condensing on her cheek, the mere intention to do away with him wasn’t enough. The scissors in Anna’s makeup bag—touted for the purposes of snipping Doreen’s tags or errant eyebrows—could surely be put to more pressing needs, couldn't they? Like stabbing Izzy in the throat? She scanned the rabid crowd, her adrenaline coursing. Maybe she would give them a show. Life in jail might be worth it.
Suddenly, Izzy rose up as if standing on his toes, and Anna was free of him. His eyes went wide as he was thrown against the wall next to the boy’s bathroom. Craig stood in his wake, flexing his hands as if ready to do more damage.
“Kill him, Shine!” Manny Vasquez, the senior class president, called out from the crowd, his voice wavering, then suddenly booming “Kill him!”
The coppery heat of bloodlust ignited the crowd and Anna was forgotten. A dozen or so kids picked up the chant, “Kill him! Kill him!” Anna recoiled, repelled by the violent hunger of the mob. But hadn’t she, only minutes ago, wanted to smash Sydney’s head into a locker? Wasn't she just about to stab Izzy in the throat with scissors? Something was wrong with her. Something was wrong with all of them.
The chanting crowd grew larger, and kids pushed each other out of the way to get a better view. They were all sick, all infected, including her. But they couldn’t all be affected by only twelve portals, could they? She had to call Jack. Saul must have lied about the number of portals. For all she knew, the school was swimming in portal spew. What else had Saul lied about?
Izzy scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but Craig grabbed him by his T-shirt, twisting the cotton in his fists and lifting Izzy up until they were eye to eye.
Zoey Edelman, captain of the varsity cheerleading team, was perched atop the shoulders of her burly wrestler boyfriend. “Kill him! Kill him!” Zoey screeched while digging her pink nails into her boyfriend’s thick neck.
More teachers and kids crept out into the hall, staring at the fight with hungry eyes.
“You said the video was just for you,” Craig said slowly, inspecting Izzy's face like he was about to take a bite out of it. “You said you wouldn’t show it to anyone.”
“C’mon man, get off me,” Izzy whimpered. “I thought she’d leave school and I’d be rid of her. She did something to me, put a curse on me or some shit. I barely sleep, and when I do, all I can see is her witch face staring at me, violating me, bro.”
“Shut up,” Craig said, tightening his grip.
Izzy twisted his body in a desperate panic to free himself. He managed to squirm himself loose but left his T-shirt behind in Craig’s fists. Bare-chested, Izzy broke into a run, but Craig lunged after him, throwing a savage punch that landed with a solid thwack on the back of Izzy's head. Izzy fell hard on the trampled carpet, worn down by countless Uggs, and stumbled to his feet in a dizzy, seesawing sprint down the hall. The crowd moved their phones in unison, following his wobbly trajectory into the commons.
And then the bell rang. As quickly as it had assembled, the crowd scattered, peering at their phones as they posted, texted and emailed the video of Izzy’s spectacular beat down.
Craig remained where he was, standing next to Anna. They were suddenly alone in the hallway, but he kept his eyes on something distant, unwilling to face her. He jammed his hands in his pockets, hands that Anna had long dreamed of holding, hands that had balled into fists of victory at her humiliation.
“You must really despise me,” Anna said.
“Nah. It’s not that serious.” Craig shrugged, finally looking at her. “It’s hard to explain…I get these headaches.” His face crumpled for a second and then grew stony again.
So, he’d been afflicted, too. Craig looked away again, this time at his shoes. Maybe he wanted forgiveness, but forgiveness wasn’t an option. There was no forgetting his cold laugh after Frank said, “Can you make her kill herself like her mom?” Yet her betraying heart still swelled a little at the sight of his dark eyes thick with pain.
Anna turned her back on him and walked on hollow legs through the commons toward the large glass exit doors. She was acutely aware of the chasm of empty space that bellowed around her when she stepped into the sun’s glare. Doreen and Freddy, at least one of them, had always been close by when she needed them, but not today.
She crossed the street and cut through the neighborhood adjacent to the school, cursing when she realized that her phone was dead. She’d always been there for Freddy and Dor, too, hadn't she? But as she crossed a back road to the strip-mall parking lot and passed the graffiti-stained dumpster behind the Yo! Yogurt shop, she had to admit that she’d been laser-focused on herself for a while, even before the portal mess. Maybe Freddy and Dor were done with her, for good this time. Maybe she deserved it.
Anna finally made it home, thirsty and tired. Jack's car wasn’t in the driveway, only Geneva's hatchback with the busted fender. Jack had said they’d be out late dousing portals, but Anna still felt abandoned. Once inside, the hoard piles flanking the narrow pathway seemed to have swelled incrementally while she was at school. Jack’s Crap grew as steadily as hair. You didn’t notice the movement until it hung in your eyes, weighing you down.
Anna went to the kitchen and downed a large glass of cold water before trudging upstairs to her bedroom oasis. She plugged her phone into its charger and called Jack. A hyper-fast busy signal blasted into her ear. She tried Freddy and heard the same thing. Dor was next, and this time Anna was treated to a deafening series of cracks. Perfect. The solar storms were jacking-up cell reception. Anna gritted her teeth. No Jack, no Dor, no Freddy. No Penelope. No Mom. No Craig.
A darkness flared insider her—a murderous rage grotesquely out of proportion to the circumstances. Anna sat on her bed, dizzy with hatred and loss. There must be a portal in her room. That stupid list was meaningless. The portals were everywhere, for all she knew. Was anything she felt real, or was it all generated by portal spew—and how could she tell the difference? Frustrated, she lay back and pulled the covers over her head, burrowing further under the sheets like a hiding child until finally, gratefully, she fell asleep.