Eight days into October and Lily's Instagram was still barren. Her posts had stopped the day before our disastrous evening, and no new posts appeared since. Her nearly 3-week absence caused a stir in the comment sections, which ironically seemed to make her even more popular than she was before disappearing. Dozens of her fans were posting their suspicions. The theories ranged from highly implausible to straight up crazy. Some thought she was dead, others were convinced she'd eloped with a multi-millionaire. All of them agreed on one thing: Lily's disappearance was a mystery.
The reason I knew about these theories was because I snooped on her account just as often as her fans did. I'd allowed the app to notify me whenever she posted anything - so I knew she was still gone - but I couldn't help but check her page anyway. The last picture she'd posted depicted a tray of delicious looking muffins. My heart did a sick lurch every time I looked at it.
I knew Lily wasn't dead, and she certainly hadn't left the country. In fact, I'd seen her several times since the Incident back in September. She showed up at school and did well on her dance rehearsals. She was also shopping like normal, spending several afternoons at the stores on main street. This I knew because Seth kept me posted.
"You really need to talk to her," he mumbled, in the midst of devouring a crepe. "I don't know what you did, but avoiding it forever is not a solution."
I gave him a grunt in reply. I was scrolling through the comments on Lily's muffin picture. A few girls seemed to think she had found a new boyfriend. Huh.
"If you want to know how she is, all you have to do is ask."
"I know how she is."
"Then why pine over her social media?"
"I'm not pining," I huffed. I let the screen fade to black on the bed in front of me.
"Whatever, man." Seth hummed and flipped the page of his magazine.
We were lying around in my room, spread out haphazardly like we owned the place and the world was ours for the taking. My bed was a mess, littered with magazines, DVDs, and various food items. An empty pizza box was in the process of sliding off my comforter. I'd turned the radiator on, which bathed the room in a comfortable haze of warmth. I never wanted to wait for the bus in 6-degree temperatures again.
Avoiding the Lily issue was not a solution, as Seth had stated so aptly, but confronting her wasn't as straight-forward as you'd think. Ever since Fort Violet, I'd spent my evenings writing letters to her, trying to get down on paper what was on my mind. Explaining exactly what had run through my head as I bolted off on her proved difficult, especially since I was hard-pressed to even explain it to myself. All I knew was that we wanted different things and that I'd hurt her. I'd hurt her a lot.
"I don't know what to say to her," I muttered to my bedroom wall.
"The truth is a start," Seth answered.
I rolled onto my side, facing him fully now. He had shaved his head and was sporting a buzz cut. Apparently, it made him more susceptible to spiritual energy, or so he said. A black, cotton t-shirt hung off his limbs, and his jeans were ripped across his knees.
"What if I'm not sure about the truth?"
Seth was side-eying me over his magazine. The headline read: "Haunted Celebrity Houses - You Won't Believe What We Found in Oprah's Cellar!"
"You did what you did for a reason, right?" He smiled, a careful tilt of the mouth. "The longer you wait, the worse it'll be. Like I said, I don't know what you did, but an apology can't go wrong."
"Yeah," I said, sighing. "I guess you're right."
Seth closed the magazine and flung it to the ground. It landed in the general vicinity of his backpack, a reminder that he should bring it with him when he left.
"Anyway, how's the Axel thing going?" Seth asked, rolling onto his side. "You guys are hanging out constantly these days. I'm starting to think you're replacing me."
"...Have you seen the guy?" I laughed, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder. "He's not best friend material, not by a long shot. Speaking of..." I closed my mouth, brain skirting back to that evening last week. The spot-free apartment, Axel's coffee cup in the sink, his father's eyes on my hands, the surrealness of the situation... It haunted me, even now.
"I kind of met his dad last week," I said.
"You what?" Seth sputtered. "When?! What was he like? What the heck, Nao?"
I made a face. Describing Axel's dad was easy enough. He seemed put-together. He wore nice, expensive clothes, and he was... cold. If you thought Axel was cold and indifferent, his dad was a bloody ice cube in comparison. That look on his face as he inspected the apartment...
"Strange," is what I ended up saying.
"Strange," Seth mimicked. "Not exactly a shocker, considering Axel is his kid, but still..."
"He wore gloves inside the house," I said. "And he was acting really off. Like he just waltzed into the apartment and didn't even say hello." I considered the wardrobe across the room. "Strange," I repeated.
"Strange."
We laid in silence, brains humming inside our heads. I could never be sure what Seth was thinking of, but my thoughts were on Axel. The puzzle pieces that made up his image didn't fit together. His fights, his spotless apartment, his meticulous dad... His temper, his silent demeanor, the way he stood up for me back at Fort Violet... Putting the pieces together was impossible, and the more I tried the more pieces I realized were missing. Who was Axel? And why did I want to know?
"That actually reminds me of something," Seth said, breaking the silence. He was watching the ceiling lamp, brow furrowed. "I think there was a rumor about his family, now that I think about it."
"What rumor? There's a whole bunch of 'em."
"I don't remember the details, but I think it was pretty bad," Seth murmured. "Remember last year? I think it was around this time of year, actually."
"What?"
"That was when the rumors really took off, right? Remember when William came in all muddy, screaming about the mass fight in the schoolyard?" A light flicked on in my head, memories flooding back.
"Oh yeah, that. Man, he was disturbed."
"Yeah, and then Mr. White told us to stay where we were, but no one listened, of course, so we snuck out to watch." Seth paused, frown deepening. "And it was just chaos, people fighting everywhere, third-years punching freshies, football players wrestling in the rain. Madness."
I sighed. "Those were the times."
"No, but Nao," Seth said impatiently. "Don't you remember? When Mr. White broke the fight up and they had a chance to explain, they all said it was Axel that started it? That he threw the first punch and dragged them all into it?"
I stopped plucking at the hole in my sweater. Seth was still staring at the ceiling, eyes narrowed and focused.
"And that he was screaming at the top of his lungs? Something about a phone... Or was it drugs...? I can't remember."
The radiator purred like an electric cat. The room was warm and toasty, and my thoughts were flying all over, collecting puzzle pieces and screaming when they wouldn't fit together. Phone or drugs. Drugs or phone. Phone... or drugs? I'd never seen anything that made me think Axel did drugs. He fought a lot, but the wounds were never so serious I thought he'd been in a death match. Then again, I'd seen that look in his eyes...
"What's that got to do with his family, though?" I asked, remembering Seth's earlier point.
"Well, uh... Kurt said his dad's a mafia boss... So y'know..."
I snickered and propped myself up on my elbow. "A mafia boss," I deadpanned.
"Yup."
"Since when did you listen to Kurt, anyway?"
Seth shrugged, laughter bubbling out of him. The skin around his eyes creased, and twin dimples appeared on his cheeks.
"I don't! It just seemed likely at the time!"
"A mafia boss," I repeated, laughter spilling out between the words. "From the mouth of Kurt. You really are an idiot."
I pounced on him, launching one of my specialty tickle moves. The sound of Seth's laughter rang through the house, and I wrestled him to the bed with my legs. Before long he was howling with laughter, and my mom was shouting something from the kitchen.
As evening bled into night, my phone rolled off the bed and was buried under one of my flannel shirts. I spent the rest of the evening watching TV with Seth, and never noticed the notification that lit up my screen under the fabric. I was laughing at something on the Occultists when a text message ticked in. I wouldn't read it until several hours later:
Unknown: Enjoy yourself while you can. You're dead meat.