SAFIYA

JANUARY 20, 2022

Truth: Toxic behavior hides behind civility.

Lie: If you let yourself get manipulated, it’s because you’re weak.

On the bus ride back to my neighborhood, I texted Asma, even knowing she might not be free for a while. I told her I was meeting Richard but hadn’t told her that maybe he was a murderer, too. I couldn’t type that in a text. My fingers were so shaky as it was.

I quickly texted my parents that I’d be out late studying at the library. I hated lying to them, but I couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, either. Not after everything that had already happened. The guy from the car rental DM’d us the receipt, and I forwarded it to Detective Diaz. I tried calling him, but it went to voice mail, so I left him a message.

Hi, um, Detective Diaz? This is Safiya… you know the one who found… the one from Jackson Park. I texted you a receipt from a car rental agency for a Chevy 200 rented the day before the murder to someone name Fred Nietzsche. Remember what I said about all the Nietzsche quotes? And, uh, someone at the agency ID’d the two people who rented the car… Nate Chase and… Richard Reynolds. Look, I know you said to let the police handle everything but… [long pause] but I’m scared they’ll get away. Richard and I were supposed to go to Winter Ball together and… and… I’m going to meet him at the park across from Medici. Now. Can you—

The bus dipped under the tracks, and I lost coverage toward the end of my message. I hoped he heard it all. I couldn’t stomach calling back. If I called back and Detective Diaz answered, he’d try to talk me out of it. I was pretty much trying to talk myself out of it, too, but my body was moving forward. I couldn’t let it go. Besides, it was still light out. And I was meeting him in public. I would be okay. And I couldn’t let Jawad down. I needed to know the truth. To know why. There were so many whys. And the only one who could answer was Richard. And maybe the only one who could get him to answer was me.

January was the cruelest month. That was my most steadfast belief about winter. And this January was proving to be more horrible than I ever could have imagined. The park across from Medici was mostly empty; still, it was outside, in a public place. A few people hurried through, their heads down and collars up against the wind. Dark clouds had rolled in. The tot lot playground, usually so colorful and bursting with laughter and noise, was deserted. One of the kiddie swings moved back and forth listlessly, pushed by an invisible hand. Its chains squeaked. The breeze kicked up, blowing some loose strands of hair in my face. I sat down on a weathered red bench. It was the closest to the street, right under a lamp. It felt safe-ish. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That incense smell, that woodsy, smoky musk, swirled in the whispers around me.

Be careful, Safiya. He hurt me. He’ll hurt you.

Richard was across the street, two takeaway cups in his hands, a blue scarf wrapped around his neck, the collar of his pea coat up. Looking at him, I felt the bile rise in my throat. When our eyes connected, he smiled. The wide charming smile that had fooled everyone. That had fooled me, sucked me in, made me believe. I tried to smile back. I couldn’t give it away. Not yet. I had to act normal, happy to see him. That’s what would keep me safe. But I’d always had the worst poker face.

He took leisurely strides over to me, making me wait. As if he could feel the tension in the air and wanted to draw it all out. The moment felt like a car crash. Like I was inside the car and time totally slowed and I was helplessly watching a truck barrel toward me. But it was also like I was a passerby on the sidewalk, witnessing everything happen in real time, in the seconds it took for the truck to T-bone the car. Time felt both too fast and too slow. I was in the moment and outside the moment, occupying two spaces at once. His footsteps boomed in sync with the thudding of my heart. I heard the swoosh of the blood rushing through my veins. I closed my eyes for the barest second to try and collect myself.

Then everything stopped. My heart. The blood in my veins. The creak of the swing. The clink and thud of cars going over the sewer cover in the middle of the intersection. I took a breath and forced myself to open my eyes. However confused I was, this was real and I had to face it.

“Extra whipped cream for you,” Richard said, handing me one of the cups as he stood above me, a huge grin on his face.

His voice sounded so normal. He still wore that charming smile. Looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. It was chilling.

“Uh… sorry, spaced out for a sec. Thanks,” I muttered, reaching out to accept the cup. Too hot to take a sip, so I wrapped my unmittened hands around it to warm my fingers and to bolster my courage. In the dark, with only the streetlamps for light, Richard looked menacing towering over me, but a second later, he plunked down beside me, scooting in closer than I wanted him to. I was almost at the edge of the bench. I couldn’t move over without running out of seat. Last week, this is what I would’ve wanted. Us, smashed together, having cocoa on a winter night. It’s weird how the thing I once hoped for was now freeze-my-blood terrifying. My God. He’d duped me so easily. He’d fooled us all.

Richard’s shoulder leaned into mine. He looked out across the street and took a sip of his cocoa. It was silent for a long time. Not the companionable type of silence like when Asma and I were at the library studying together or when all the newspaper staff were sitting at a table editing stories. It was a silence that held the weight of secrets. Dangerous ones. And I think the reality of the situation was starting to press on me. What the hell was I thinking? I could imagine Asma screaming at me right now. The skies were darkening, the clouds getting heavier. This was a stupid, risky decision. I’d moved my phone to my coat pocket and I snuck a look: 15 percent battery left. No new texts.

“Expecting someone?” Richard asked with a sidelong glance. “I was hoping I’d finally get you alone.” It was a casual enough remark, and under different circumstances it might have even played as flirty, but right now every word he spoke felt like a con. Like his game of cloak-and-dagger was finally transparent.

“Asma said she’d swing by and give me a ride home.” Asma and I hadn’t connected before I got here, and I was wishing we had because this lie would become apparent pretty soon.

“I can give you a ride home. Happy to be alone in my car with you,” Richard said as he gently moved a stray hair from my cheek. I held my breath as the tips of his fingers brushed against my skin. Being alone in his car was absolutely the last place I wanted to be. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew how his words seemed innocent but sounded sinister. Like he was toying with me. Enjoying the game. Enjoying seeing me so nervous. It gave him control. He still hadn’t dropped his smile.

I took a deep breath. Then another. The empty playground swing creaked louder. For a second there was the echo of dull footsteps behind us, but when I glanced over my shoulder, the park was empty.

Then I heard Jawad’s voice:

His kindness is a lie. His words are hollow. He likes it when you’re scared.

I drew my phone out of my pocket again, began typing out a text to Asma. “I’m telling her we’re here,” I said in as singsongy a voice as I could. By Medici is all I managed to type out before Richard reached over and gently nudged my phone away. So casual. Like it wasn’t aggressive. Like it wasn’t all about him wanting control.

“I said I’d love to give you a ride.” His face broke into a wide grin.

“Sure, yeah,” I said, slipping my phone back in my pocket, fumbling to try and send off the text. I couldn’t even check to see if it had been delivered. “Asma and I have a few things to finalize for a spread we’re doing for the Spectator.” I was working so hard to unclench my jaw when I spoke, I was sure he could tell I was lying.

“Cool. What’s it about?”

“Huh?”

“The spread you’re working on. What’s it about?”

“Oh, umm, pizza.” Wow. Could I possibly have chosen something less believable. At least I didn’t say rainbows and unicorns. Where was my brain?

“Pizza. You are doing a spread on pizza? That’s not exactly your usual.”

“Well, Hardy clamped down on freedom of the press at school, so…”

“Yeah. Like I said, he really has it in for you. Guess he’s sick of your liberal rag.”

I paused. “Huh?”

“I’m saying that’s how he thinks of the paper. But I’m surprised you’re not trying to write about Ghost Skin. Or about that kid’s murder. Aren’t you kind of, like, obsessed with getting justice for Jawad?”

There it was. He knew. It was chilling how nonchalant he could be. He wore a mask like a second skin.

Every muscle in my body tensed. I took a deep breath in. Tried to calm myself down, which felt impossible since my heart was like a jackhammer in my chest. He was opening a door. Fine. Time for me to bust it down. I turned away for a second and pretended to spill a bit of my cocoa on myself. “Dammit,” I said as I handed Richard my drink, then reached into my pocket. “I think I have a tissue. Hang on.” I fumbled around but managed to click the side and volume buttons on my phone to make the SOS bar appear. I quickly slid right. I’d never used that phone function before, but it was supposed to send 911 your location and ping your emergency contact, too. Mine was Asma. We’d set up that function together, and I’d meant to add other contacts, like my parents, but had kinda forgotten about it. Never thought I’d need it.

Since I didn’t have a tissue, I made a big deal of pulling my mitten from my pocket and using it as a napkin. It was ridiculous, but it was buying me some time.

“Why wouldn’t I want his murderers brought to justice? It’s what any decent human being would want.” My chest tightened as I spoke. Richard looked straight ahead, then glanced down the street.

“So you think it was more than one murderer?”

“Is there a reason you’d know different?”

Richard chuckled. Then placed the cups in his hands on the sidewalk in front of him. “It’s logical, isn’t it? Only one person could have killed him. The other person would be driving the car while the murder occurred. Hypothetically speaking.”

The blood froze in my veins. I bit the side of my cheek and felt a trickle of blood in my mouth. “Yes, they would be,” I said slowly. “If you assumed they’d killed him in the car. And then dumped his body after they murdered him. Hypothetically speaking.”

Scream, Safiya. Run.

He was here. Jawad. I couldn’t explain. I didn’t understand it. I had no idea how it was possible. But that potent woodsy, musky incense smell caught in the breeze and swirled around us. It was in the bare branches that swayed in the trees behind us. In the few dry leaves that formed a tiny tornado at our feet. There was the thunderous sound of a branch falling in a gust of wind near the playground. The chains of the empty swing creaked louder, like they were screeching into the night.

I stood up abruptly, peering down the street, looking for help that didn’t seem to be coming. “Crap,” I said louder than necessary. “I… uh… bet our drinks are ice cold. Cold cocoa is the worst! Let’s get refills at Medici.” I started bouncing on my toes. My body was saying to run, but part of me was saying to stall, maybe Detective Diaz would come. I should’ve tried calling him again. I began inching away from the bench, my brain spiraling. The ground under my feet started to sway.

Richard grabbed my left hand. Hard. “Hang on. I wanted to talk, remember?” His voice was still so calm, almost sweet.

“Cool. We can grab a table and chat inside.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he squeezed it, twisting my wrist.

“No. I think here is good.”

“Let go of me.” I wanted to scream those words but they came out like a raspy whisper. I couldn’t even tell if I was breathing anymore. I couldn’t feel any air moving through my lungs.

Richard was still smiling up at me. Smiling. As he twisted my hand, sending sharp pains shooting up my arm.

Run, Safiya. Fight for yourself.

And then, for a split second, the scene distorted, like I was looking at us—at myself—through a glass of water. I muttered a prayer as I clenched my right hand into a fist and swung at Richard’s face. He didn’t see it coming, and when I connected with his nose, bone hitting bone, there was a horrifying crunch as an electric shock reverberated through my arm. He yelped and pulled his hand to his face. I drew back, stumbled a few steps toward the sidewalk, and righted myself. My mouth opened to cry out, scream, but I couldn’t hear my voice.

“You dirty raghead!” he howled.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw him stand up, sway a bit as he stepped into a pool of light from the streetlamp. Blood smeared his face; his eyes filled with rage. My legs felt like lead, my hand throbbed, but I forced myself to move. A car sped down the street, and I jumped off the curb, waving my hands, trying to flag it down, but the driver laid on the horn and swerved around me.

No! Dammit!

I heard the rumble of an engine starting from a car that was parallel parked, and then the headlights flipped on, blinding me for a second.

Behind me I heard Richard laughing. “It’s. All. Happening,” he mocked, drawing out the words.

I squinted at the car that screeched as it reversed to get out of the spot. A white Mercedes. License plate FWL PLAY 60615. My heart exploded in my chest. It was Nate. I ran across the street to the other sidewalk and headed in the opposite direction from where Nate’s car was facing, but that meant I was moving away from Medici and my chance to run inside for help. The sidewalk was empty, lined with large apartment buildings. I ran to one and slammed my hand against every buzzer, hoping someone would let me in. C’mon. C’mon. Someone. I glanced back to see Richard motioning to Nate to turn the car around. Richard caught my eye and sprinted down the street toward me, slowing to squeeze between two parked cars.

My panicky breaths came hard and fast. I left the apartment building and raced down the sidewalk. I saw Nate’s headlights barreling toward me, the wrong way down the one-way street. Richard was so close, I could hear his heaving breaths. I stumbled off the curb, but he grabbed at my collar, yanking me toward him. I slammed into him and we both fell backward onto the grassy strip by the sidewalk. I tried to scramble away, first on all fours and then standing, but Richard pulled at my leg and I went down hard on my right side. Pain blasted through my shoulder and hip. He grabbed for me and I kicked at him, making contact with his shin as he dropped down closer to me. I tried to push myself off the ground with my left hand, but Richard shoved me back, straddling me to keep me pinned down.

Icy drizzle began to fall. The drying blood under his nose and cheek mingled with the rain and streamed down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, and it was only then that I saw his fingers curled around a rock. I heard a voice in my ear, barely a whisper, a breath against my skin.

Fight, Safiya. Fight. Help is coming.

But how? How was I supposed to fight? I could barely muster the strength to breathe.

“Is that what you did to him?” I forced myself to speak even as I started to shiver and felt my knees and legs grow weak. “To Jawad? What did he ever do to you?” In the distance I heard a siren. So far away, I couldn’t tell where it was heading. In my ear, the whisper. Swirls of incense rising like smoke in the rain.

“It wasn’t personal. It was necessary. Can’t let you all steal everything.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not stealing anything. You don’t have to do this. Let me go.”

Richard grinned. Nate’s car pulled up next to the curb. If they pulled me into that car, I knew it would be the last place I’d ever see. I clawed at the dirt, trying to find a rock, a shard of broken glass, anything. The freezing rain started to fall harder now; it felt like tiny pellets of ice on my skin. I couldn’t breathe. I was too terrified to look at Richard, but I was also too scared to turn away.

A glassy-eyed look fell over him, his face almost serene. Richard’s voice was so even again. Collected. “It was always Us against Them. And you’re a Them. Every single one of your SJW Be the Change pleas? Your bullshit talk about justice? About affirmative action leveling the playing field? What’s fair about you people taking our spots in college, places you haven’t earned? You want special treatment. You want to eliminate our rights. Erase us. That’s the real racism in this country, right there.”

“What? This is about you not getting into Harvard? I don’t… Why… why did you even ask me to the dance? Act like you liked me? Like you understood me.” The sirens were getting closer. I prayed they were for me. I didn’t know if Richard could even hear them; he seemed like he was in his own world. Nate was in the car, motor running, waving frantically at Richard.

“Infiltrate. Keep your enemies close.” He grinned, then shook his head. “You’re so weak. So blind. You never saw me watching you when you broke into Nate’s locker, overhearing you and your stupid friends wonder if that chump Joel was in on it. Or Hardy?” He paused and let out a little laugh. “You and your cute Justice for Jawad article? What a joke. At first toying with you was fun, but now I’m bored.”

All along I’d thought it was Nate masterminding the whole thing, getting Joel’s help. But Richard was right. I hadn’t seen what was right in front of me. I hadn’t seen how he’d set it all up, lied, manipulated me, made me doubt myself. How he’d hidden in plain sight. The passenger-side window in Nate’s car rolled down. “Hurry up! Get her in the car. Someone is going to notice,” he hissed.

I was not going to get into that car.

I dug my nails into the cold, wet earth and grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it into Richard’s eyes. He reeled back and I pushed myself away from him, my body screaming in pain as I struggled to stand. He lunged for me, grabbed me, shoved me against the hood of Nate’s car. There was a rage in his eyes as he raised the rock above me.

“Not here, dude!” Nate yelled from inside the car.

Richard didn’t seem to hear Nate, because his eyes were laser focused on me. “Please don’t,” I begged. “Please.”

“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a rising star.” I recognized Richard’s words. They were from that Nietzsche book, and he was reciting them like a prayer.

A car careened around the corner, its headlights dipping as it turned, then flashed at us, its bright beams on.

Move. It’s not over, Safiya. You’re still here. Fight.

Richard raised a hand to shade his eyes as the driver laid on the horn. A light came on inside the car. Asma. The window rolled down. “Move!” She screamed as she sped up. The sirens were louder now. They were right here.

I rolled off the hood and onto the ground, clawing away, a second before Asma steered her car and crashed it into Nate’s. There was a crunch of metal on metal. A shower of broken glass. Screams. Red and blue lights flashed along the street as my body fell limp into the mud. As my eyes were closing, I heard a whisper on the wind…