Fifty-Three

That weekend Alexis invites me to her apartment for dinner. We feast on microwaved dinosaur nuggets and Kraft maca­roni and cheese while we sit on the couch watching Love Island. It’s Alexis’s favorite show, but I can’t seem to focus on the screen. I’m too busy thinking about my mother and George and the wedding. I fight the desire to check George’s dating profile, which I’ve already done a hundred times today. He hasn’t sent any new messages, and I know it’s pointless to keep looking, but the impulse doesn’t quiet.

“Is everything okay?” Alexis asks. I realize then that the sound has been muted for some time and that I’ve been staring dully at a soundless screen.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been distant lately. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

She studies me, and under her watchful gaze I feel myself being pulled apart. “I’m your friend, Ji-won,” she says. “If you need anything, you can talk to me. I won’t judge you. I would never judge you.” She reaches out to touch me—

I don’t know if it’s the burst of emotion I feel toward her, but there’s a sharp pain in my head. “Bathroom,” I gasp, and I stumble out of the room. I sit with my back against the door, a pulsating sensation in my head. The lights are too bright, the scent of the candle on her counter too sharp. My stomach roils.

Alexis knocks. “Ji-won? Everything okay in there?”

I open the door a crack. “Not really. I think I have a migraine. I should go.”

“Are you sure? Do you want to stay until you feel better? I don’t mind. . . .”

“No, thanks. I have to go.” I bring my hand to my pounding temple.

“Okay. I’ll walk you down.”

“No!” I don’t mean for it to come out so harshly, but the damage has been done. Alexis takes a step back, confused, as I bolt out the door.

Outside, there’s a warm breeze, signaling the start of summer. It’s Saturday night, and the streets are noisy with students working their way to the nearby bars and restaurants. All the commotion makes the pain in my head grow. I sit in the car, leaning back in the seat, waiting for the ache to stop.

By the time it does, it’s past midnight. I put the car in drive and head to the next block, where I can hear whooping and singing. The sound is coming from a bar that’s well known for its wild nights. Alexis once told me that she snuck inside with her sister’s old ID and ordered an AMF, their specialty drink, a bright blue, artificial concoction made with vodka, gin, rum, tequila, and blue curaçao. It made her throw up for several hours.

I circle around, waiting. The people hanging out in front are absorbed in conversation, but I’m not interested in them. Eventually, a man comes staggering out. He’s wearing a cap low on his head, and even though his face is mostly obscured, I can see that his cheeks are pink. When I roll down the window and call out to him, he looks up, disoriented and confused. His eyes are a deep blue.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask. He stumbles into the street, so drunk that he can’t find the passenger door handle. After a few frustrating moments, I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over to open the door from the inside. He jumps in without hesitation.

It must be nice to be so assured of your safety that you don’t have to worry about being alone at night or getting in the wrong car.

“Uber?” he asks, slurring his words.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t know they let Asian chicks do Uber,” he mutters, before spewing out some other unintelligible gibberish. I don’t respond. He leans back and promptly falls asleep, his mouth dropping open. The cap tumbles off; I pick it up off the floor and place it back on his head. He looks cherubic with his blond hair and his pink cheeks, and there’s something strangely familiar about him. I don’t realize what it is until I pull away from the curb. It’s Backward Cap, from the coffee shop.

As I speed down the freeway, my stomach growls. I am hungry. Ravenous, in fact. It’s been so long since my last meal. And it will be such a special meal, too, knowing what I know now. I can hardly wait.

I’m so excited that I don’t see the black-and-white car hid­ing in the shadows until it’s too late. I slam on the brakes, coming to a screeching stop, and the red-and-blue lights start flash­ing behind me, sirens wailing. I stare at them in the rearview mirror, my heart sinking.

“Don’t say a word,” I hiss at Backward Cap, even though he’s still fast asleep.

The police officer approaches my open window, shining his flashlight in my face. I peer into the brightness.

“Do you know why I pulled you over tonight, miss?” he asks. His voice is deep, and he has a mustache and his eyes are so fucking blue and I can’t concentrate and—

“Miss? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry. I did. I . . . I’m sorry if I was driving fast, officer. I was picking up my boyfriend. He’s drunk, and he called me to pick him up. I was just trying to get us home.” I gesture lamely at Backward Cap.

The policeman flickers the flashlight to the passenger seat.

Don’t wake up.

“Were you out with your boyfriend tonight?”

“No sir.”

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“No sir.”

“Not even a sip?”

“No.”

“Do you have your license and registration with you?”

“I do.” I hand them to him; he gives my driver’s license a cursory glance before nodding.

“Get home safely,” he says. “I’m letting you off tonight with a warning. You’re being awfully responsible for someone your age. Tell your boyfriend not to drink so much next time.”

And with that, he disappears into his car and drives away.

I’m on a high from my escape. If I were smart, I’d turn back, drop Backward Cap off on campus, and not test my luck any further. But I want to keep going.

I pull off the freeway exit and veer into an empty lot that’s been in development for years.

When I was younger, Appa complained about the lot constantly. Back then, it was overgrown and neglected; weeds had taken over. “It’s a perfectly good spot,” my father had said. “If they aren’t going to do anything with it, they should give it to someone who will!”

“Someone like you?” Ji-hyun asked.

“Yes. Like me.”

“What would you do with it?” I asked.

Appa rolled his eyes. “Do you really not know?” I did, but I wanted to hear him say it. “I’d build a big house with three rooms. One for you, one for Ji-hyun, and one for Umma and Appa. We’d have a big backyard and maybe a dog, if you girls promise to take care of it.”

Umma smiled. “Can we make it four rooms? I want an extra bedroom for guests.”

“If you want ten rooms, I’ll build you ten. Whatever you want.”

Every time we passed by the empty lot, we dreamed of more and more outlandish schemes. A house with a movie theater and a bowling alley and an arcade built inside. A house with twenty rooms. A house with ten floors, a pool on each one.

Then one day, a sign went up. The lot was sold. We watched as the weeds were cleared, as someone else who wasn’t us began building a house that didn’t match any of our expectations. The house grew and grew until one day, the construction stopped. Since then, it’s been complete silence. All that’s left is a skeleton, wood planks and tarps battered by the wind.

I park the car on the street and cut the engine. It’s silent, and the streetlights are broken. The ones that are working are too far away for their light to reach us.

“Wake up,” I growl, shaking Backward Cap.

He opens his eyes blearily. The blue of his irises gives me a little jolt, and I shake him harder. “Wake up. We’re here.”

He tumbles out of the car, sending the cap flying. I help him up, his weight heavy against my body. In the lot, the weeds have taken over again. We’re surrounded by mustard plants, which tickle my bare arms. I swipe at them, pushing the spindly long stalks away. We pass the NO TRESPASSING sign, which has rusted over, splotches of brown etched onto the metal.

I smell something sharp. Pungent. I wrinkle my nose. Backward Cap has pissed all over himself. He grunts, as if satisfied with his performance, and I push him down, into the grass. He falls flat and disappears among the flowers. I lean over him with the knife in my hand, admiring his exposed neck.

This is the hard part. I have to kill him. I line the blade up to the place where I know the carotid artery lies. Holding my breath, I plunge it into his flesh.