Monday morning, I finagle an unscheduled meeting with my academic advisor by smiling at his admin. Yes, I’m wearing a tight shirt. What can I say? It works to get me in, and no one is more surprised than me.
After a short conversation, he agrees to start the necessary paperwork to switch my major to prelaw. I could tell he thought I was nuts at first, but when I mentioned my sister was murdered and that I’ve had a life-changing moment of clarity, he actually starts making calls to see what’s possible.
It’s good news. The change will require the dean’s approval, but based on my GPA, he says he can grant conditional approval for me to at least attend classes—as long as there’s space. My professors must give me satisfactory grades and attendance, but he warns me I have to start studying for the LSAT, which I’ll need to take next year, if I want to get into actual law school.
But I’m in luck. I happen to love tests, puzzles, escape rooms, games, Rubik’s—anything that’s a mental challenge.
What can I say? I’m an ultra-nerd.
With mega hang-ups.
Only now, I’m not a chicken.
I’m somewhere closer to being Captain Fierce Flag, and that’s where I want to be. Before, I don’t think my advisor would’ve given me the time of day. He would’ve taken one look at me and said he didn’t have the time to move mountains just because I had an epiphany. He would have told me to file the paperwork, submit it for review, and hold my breath until next semester.
Only, that didn’t happen. This guy, whom I’ve never met in person, bent over backwards to “move a mountain.” He couldn’t do it fast enough. And when we ended our meeting, there was a look of complete happiness on his face. Like my joy was his joy.
Weird.
But I’m not going to dwell on any of it. I’ve been given a gift. And, for as long as I have it, I need to use it. It’s changing my life—giving me a glimpse of this other version of myself. All I need is to be bold enough to reach for the possibilities.
I’m not saying I’ve got any of this figured out or that I’m not scared shitless about the elements of my transformation I can’t control. I’m saying that walls have been knocked down inside my head.
I thank my advisor and take my new schedule, which gives me the day free since my new classes won’t start until tomorrow.
I decide it’s time to pay Blake’s frat house a visit.
I’m wearing a baseball cap, hoodie, and jeans when I show up to the Alpha house. Some guy in shorts and a white tank answers the door.
“Hi, I’m here for…” I don’t know the names of the guys who helped try to kill me the other night.
“You’re a friend of Big Blue, right? Come on in.”
“Big Blue?” I raise a brow.
“Yeah, the B-man. The Blake-o-saurus.”
I resist saying something like, You mean Blake the Raper? “Yes. I am here to pay respects.”
“Cool.” He steps aside to let me pass. “Keg is in the kitchen. Xbox sign-up is to the left in the living room. Winner gets Betty.”
“Betty?”
“Blake’s blow-up doll.”
Words cannot describe how little I want to own something Blake has ejaculated on. I wouldn’t even touch his Old Spice bodywash if my life depended on it.
“Thanks, man,” I say, going inside. The house smells like old pepperoni and weed, but to my surprise, it’s neat and clean. The hardwood floors are polished to a sparkly shine. The walls are painted a pristine white, and there are black-and-white photos of fraternity members hanging along the staircase wall. There’s also a stained-glass skylight above the foyer to let the light in. “Impressive house.”
“Yeah. It was restored a few years ago, originally built in the early 1900s. We give tours during our off season, if you’re interested.”
“Tours?”
“Yeah. Kind of a tradition. The architecture students love it. We have original crown moldings that are classic to the era, and our six bathrooms are done in reclaimed one-inch blue and white glass tiles that the original house had. Our fraternity raised the money ourselves to fund the restoration. Wanna check it out?”
I never imagined a group of football players would be so into cleanliness and architectural detail.
“Maybe some other time,” I say. “But thanks.”
“No problem. Help yourself to some beer and make yourself at home.”
How shockingly polite. Am I in the right frat house? I look around at signed photos of famous football players lining the long hallway that stretches to the side of the staircase and probably leads to some bedrooms or the backyard. This is definitely the place. The fraternity’s symbol, a loop with horns, is all over the place.
I decide going for a prop beer is best if I want to blend in and check out who’s here. I’m looking for familiar faces.
When I enter the kitchen—and yes, it’s immaculate, too, with white cupboards and white marble counters—I’m greeted with friendly nods and “wassups” from some guys standing near the keg. A photo of Blake is set right beside it. A keg shrine.
I take my red cup of golden suds and head to the Xbox room. It’s a big space with bay windows and a brick fireplace. Two full-size gray couches face three big screens above the mantel, and a bunch of people are playing video games. Yes. Football. Not a shock. What does surprise me is that the coffee table in front of them has coasters under the beers.
It’s just not what I expected.
I stand in the wide doorway, my eyes scanning for faces from the other night. I spot the hairy double-chinned driver of the SUV. I never saw him straight on, but I won’t ever forget his furry profile.
The guy is playing on the station to my left and completely oblivious to anyone in the room. The same goes for most of the guys.
I kind of get the sense that Blake won’t be missed around here, because no one looks torn up. No, it’s not a happy-fun kind of gathering, but it doesn’t feel like a wake either. Is it because Blake was an asshole and no one liked him? Or is it because anyone who was friends with Blake is just as cold as he was?
Maybe both. Because I know some of his fellow fraternity brothers were there the other night. They had no problem helping Blake. They have to pay for what they did.
The driver from the other night drops his controller and grabs his throat. No one notices his silent plea for help.
Me? I can’t believe I’m the only one watching this. You deserve it, I think.
Like he hears me, the guy turns his head and locks his eyes on my face. His hand is tight around his throat. Help, he mouths.
Not a chance. I flash a smile at him and leave the house.
Suddenly, my damned heart won’t stop racing. I can’t catch my breath. My feet feel heavy, and my stomach is burning. I don’t make it more than three feet past the front door.
Go back in there and fix it. Help him, I tell myself. Why? Don’t know. But when I turn to do it, the sensations leave me.
I rush back into the living room and grab the guy by the shoulders. I push him to the floor, ready to give him CPR.
“Bro! What’re you doin’?” one guy yells.
There’s a split second that I’m hating myself for saving this asshole who drove me and River to our near deaths. But when I look him in the eyes, I can feel him silently begging for forgiveness.
Maybe he didn’t want to do it, I think. Maybe Blake threatened him, and this guy and I aren’t so different after all. We both feared speaking up, pushing back, saying anything because we know the Mandas and Blakes of the world will do anything to win. They’re willing to cross lines most of us won’t. They justify their cruel behavior with excuses like, “Well, it’s either them or me.” Or “It’s dog eat dog.” “The world has wronged me, so why should I care?” But all the justifications in the world don’t excuse acting like an animal.
Where does this epiphany come from? Not sure, but as I look down at this guy staring with pleading eyes, I do the only thing I can. I start trying to save this piece of shit. Whatever he’s done is between him and his god. I’ve got my own crimes to answer for.
I press my lips to his mouth and blow. Yuck. Yuck! Though, if I did swing that way, his lips are pretty soft. Good for him. I’m sure the ladies appreciate it. Unfortunately, the mouth-to-mouth doesn’t do the trick.
I pull back. He’s pointing to his throat.
He’s choking!
I flip him over on all fours to administer the Heimlich, something I learned in some health class I took years ago. I slide my arms around him, making it look like an awkward clothed doggy-style simulation. I really shouldn’t have complained about touching his lips. This is way more uncomfortable.
The guy hacks and spits a wad of lime green goo to the floor.
“Gum?” I bark. “You almost died from gum, dude?”
“Thank you,” he croaks.
I stand up, brushing off the front of my jeans like it somehow erases the intimacy of what I had to do to save him.
I glare down at the guy. “I don’t care what Blake said to get you to go along with the other night. There’s no excuse. You didn’t, nor will you ever, have the right to take the life of a person like River. Her parents need her. I need her. You need her. People like River are the only good things assholes like us will ever get to have in this world.”
My choice of words doesn’t escape me. It sounded like a declaration of love. Did I mean it? I don’t know what’s going on inside my head anymore.
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Yep. My work here is done.” I leave the house and then proceed to slam my palm into my forehead. Can I be any more cliché? “My work here is done”?
“Wait up, man,” says a big guy with dark, longish hair, running for me. I don’t recognize him. “Hey,” he says, catching up. “Thanks for helping Kyle.”
“Kyle?” The guy has the same name as my brother.
“Yeah, the dude you just helped ten seconds ago.”
“No problem,” I say coldly.
“Your name’s Huff, right? None of us were okay with what Blake did.”
“Then why not try to stop him?” I ask.
“We all thought he was just mouthing off—that he’d never go through with actually hurting anyone. Blake always talked trash. We were going to turn him in after the game. I swear it.”
“You’re saying that none of you actually wanted to kill me, but you threw me in a lake and tried to drown me anyway? Fuck off, man.” I start marching back toward campus.
“Huff, Huff, listen to me.” He grabs my arm, and I stop, jerking my appendage free. “There were five other guys in the car besides Blake. Right? I’m telling you not everyone went along with it willingly. Blake threatened to have us all arrested by his brother—the sheriff—if we didn’t do what he said.”
Arrested for what? Wait. No. I don’t care. “You think that matters?”
“No. No.” He lets out a long breath. “I was there, Huff. I swear, we thought Blake was going to scare you. That’s it. The second you went in the water, I dove in, but I couldn’t find you. It was dark. The water’s deep. By the time I came up, maybe twenty seconds later, you were already out, knocking over Blake and Kyle. Then you disappeared with River.”
This guy could be full of shit, but my gut says he’s telling the truth. Doesn’t excuse what happened, though. Not even close.
“Where did you take me?” I ask.
He stares with a confused frown.
“Where did you take me and River the other night?” I repeat.
“Why?”
“I lost something next to the water. I need to look for it.” I don’t want him suspecting anything regarding my transformation. On the other hand, why hasn’t he noticed I look different? The only answer I’ve got is that he never really looked at me. I was nothing to him. Now I can’t be ignored.
“I’ll have to take you,” he says. “The place isn’t on any maps.”
“Then take me. Now.” Or I’ll be sure you join Blake.
He bobs his head remorsefully. “Sure. Whatever you need. No problem.”
I pause to think. “Why are you being so cooperative?”
“The guy you just saved is my brother. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”
And now I get it. “Then let’s go.” Take me to my grave.