DEZ

Characters: Ken, Joan, and Riley Frost; and Riley’s friend, Libby Jones.

Scene: The Frosts, out on the porch, seeing their daughter and her friend off for the night.

Mood: Tension. The parents are reluctant to let their daughter out at night after Ms. Dunn’s murder. The girls work to ease their worries, but Riley has reservations of her own.

I hear them out on the porch. “Bye, Joan. Bye, Ken.” Libby is bidding farewell to Riley’s parents.

Kiss ass.

There’s never been any love lost between me and Libby. We’ve never clicked, but we try, for Riley. Behind the scenes, we fight for her attention. I’ve even used Libby as my scapegoat a time or two. But she deserves it. She likes to see Rye down and out and she’ll do just about anything for an ego boost. She tried putting the moves on me back in the day because she couldn’t stand to see Riley getting all the attention. I kept that little episode to myself.

Slippery Libby.

Outside my bedroom window, I watch Rye lean in for her parents’ goodbye kisses. She learned a long time ago that resistance is futile when it comes to their doting ways. The quicker she can get it over with, the better. After what happened with Ms. Dunn, they tightened the reign. They aren’t the only ones. The Heights used to be a place where nobody locked their doors, where you could walk anywhere at night, where there was always someone around who had your back. Ms. Dunn’s murder changed all that.

Joan and Ken linger outside, and the girls indulge them for a few minutes until Libby puts her arm around Riley and slowly pulls her off the porch. If she didn’t, the Frosts would keep them there all night. Riley brushes a stray hair from her face, one that’s escaped the knot she’s tied on top of her head. I move a little closer to my window and watch.

They leave, and I’m left alone in my room, so I pick up my camera.

Instead of pining over Rye, this is how I should be spending my time. If I want to get into Columbia, I have to do more than hang in my room like a recluse. I need a film, a kick-ass one, to get the scholarship I need for the insane Ivy League price tag.

After the film festival, Riley and I are both going to New York for college interviews and auditions. Our official letters finally came in the mail. Riley’s applying to Tisch at NYU. I’m putting all my eggs in the Columbia basket. Only a subway ride apart. For Rye, Tisch is her second choice. Her first is the U of M Guthrie program here at home. She wants to keep the cost down for her parents. Tisch would be better for her and everyone knows it, but once again, it’s going to be up to me to do the convincing.

I flip open the viewfinder and turn on the camera—the only thing that will take my mind off my obsession with Riley. I can spend hours playing with shots and scenes and sequences. Just for practice. I haven’t done it in a few weeks. Not since I accidently taped Rye and Emma in the car.

I was hanging out my window, camera in hand, working on perspective shots when a car pulled into the Frosts’ driveway. I thought I could capture a scene in real time, so I zoomed in.

To Riley and Emma.

Kissing.

A disturbing scene that continues to replay, over and over in my head.

Riley.

With Emma.

It makes me ache.

At first, I thought Riley was faking the whole gay thing, trying to be a rebel or eccentric or something. Junior high was when it started getting weird. We’d both notice the same girl walking by and we’d both blush when we got caught, or we’d put on the same cocky show in front of someone we liked.

That’s when Riley decided to like girls and there was nothing I could do about it—which made me want her even more. Completely fucked up, I know.

By the time high school started, she seemed to grow out of it, like I’d said she would. It didn’t last.

When she told me she was interested in girls again, I pulled away. It was too hard. But after hearing about what went down in my cousin’s school in Iowa, I was worried for her. My cousin Adam said it was really bad at his school. Sick shit—like homophobes stripping gay guys’ clothes off and duct-taping them in the locker room, posting nasty pictures and videos all over the Internet, spray-painting their cars.

They weren’t any easier on the girls.

Then came the suicides. One after another. All gay kids.

I vowed that I’d never let anything like that happen to Riley.

My phone goes off for like the fifth time in the last hour. I don’t even look at it. I know it’s Jonah. He wants me to double again this weekend, but I just can’t go through another night with Nicole. No way.

There’s only one person I want to talk to tonight, so I punch in the number.

It rings five times. There’s no answer or voicemail—not like I’d leave a message anyway. Texting is out of the question too. I guess I’ll just have to try again later.

I go back to my camera and study the shots from rehearsal. I like how they look. The story is taking shape. I look at the script and make a few edits. But it’s Libby’s words that I can’t get out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about them.

Did Riley really say she’s going back to boys?

Was Libby exaggerating?

What’s really going on?

I hit redial on my phone.

“Hello, Desmond,” the voice vibrates on my ear.

“Hey, just checking in. Any news?” I ask with a cringe. I hate betraying Riley this way, but it has to be done.

“No news is good news.”

“Meaning?” I ask.

“They won’t dare talk to each other, and my people tell me there’s been no contact.”

“Your people?” I roll my eyes.

“How else do you think I get things done around here? This is not a one-person operation.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea of how you work. But remember, your job is to keep Riley and Emma apart, not to make Rye’s life difficult.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Dez. You wanted my help, remember?”

This was a mistake.

“Yeah, I remember,” I say, trying to even my voice. “But don’t forget that I helped you too. I’m not the only one here with something to lose.”

“Dez, you don’t want to play with me.”

“Just lighten up on Riley,” I say quickly before I hang up.

Shit, what have I done?

In the corner of my room, the Godfather looks down from his perch on the wall and says, Now there’s somebody who knows how to do business.