"What about his driving?" Debbie asked during the school-wide pilgrimage from class to canteen that occurred at the beginning of the lunch hour. "Was he the slow-and-steady-wins-the-race type? Or was he more of a hare?"
"Debbie, if you ask me one more question about Jet, I swear I'll sign you up for the Ladies Book Club myself," I said. She'd been interrogating me ceaselessly all day; I wasn't even sure that she'd taken a breath. "But, if you must know, he was a very caring, thoughtful driver."
Debbie tooted. "I asked how his driving was, not how he is in the sack. You should write romance novels, seriously."
I fought back a grin and shoved her on the shoulder. It hadn't been an easy day. After what had happened in the changing rooms the previous afternoon I'd scurried from lesson to lesson like a mouse in a building full of sharp-clawed cats, terrified that somebody would recognise me. What little comfort I gained from the fact that the photograph hadn't appeared anywhere yet, was overshadowed by my refusal to look up from the ground lest my gaze fall upon Carmen and her ring of leering jesters.
It was only Debbie who'd kept me sane, and for that I felt a rush of deep-rooted appreciation. She'd acted as though everything was normal, despite her initial fury ("I'll slip some green hair-dye into her bleach and then I'll take a photo of her, see how she likes it!"), and in turn I'd pretty much managed to forget about all the other crazy stuff that was going on.
"My flair for capturing moments through words is limitless," I admitted and, as I turned back to face the direction we were heading, walked directly into Jetham Burr himself. The air lodged itself in my throat, as thick and unshifting as a lozenge.
"Whoa, sorry!" Jet reached out to steady me and his face broke into a warm smile as the recognition settled in. Next to him was a boy with a mass of thick, curly hair and spindly limbs. "Oh, Saffy! Sorry, I was just talking to - uh..."
His voice trailed off into an uncertain silence as he turned to his friend. "It's Wes, man," the boy said, and his lips parted into a lazy grin. "Like Wesley, but Wes."
"Right, uh, Wes," Jet said, his eyebrows arched. "So, how are things? You look a lot drier."
I stared up at him, my voice still wedged cosily in my throat. His hair was especially messy today, and his cheeks rosy. There was something rugged about the whole dragged-through-a-bush-backwards look.
Debbie nudged me in the ribs. I'd been openly staring for way too long; I came to with a dazed bat of the eyelids. "Oh, yeah, I'm good, I, uh- ouch!" I was cut off by another jab to the side from Debbie's weirdly pointed elbow, and suddenly realized what she was trying to communicate. "Oh! This is Deborah Pruitt. I guess you could call her my friend, or something like that."
Debbie shuffled forward in her Doc Martens. "You can call me Debbie," she said. I'd never heard her sound so gracious before. It didn't match up with the slash of red lipstick and the heavy application of eyeliner.
"Nice to meet you," Jet said. His courtesy was much more natural. "So, Saffy, did you get to talk to your boss yet?"
"What? Oh, not yet," I shook my head. I felt instantly guilty - which was ridiculous, because it was beyond my control. "I'm sorry, I haven't got a shift until tonight. I'll mention it to Bev later though, for sure!"
Jet's face glowed with delight. "Awesome, thanks! I'll get Esteban all polished up."
"Esteban?" I frowned.
"My first love," Jet grinned. "Gloria's only my second, bless her."
"You named your guitar? Do you name everything?"
"More importantly," Wes spoke up, sending his mousy afro bobbing, "who's Gloria? Is she hot?"
"She's good for her age," Jet said, defensively. He looked back at me with those big, caramel-coloured eyes. "Anyway, we better go. Wes was about to show me the music room. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," I replied, and I watched as he and Wes ambled by. "See you tomorrow."
"Bye!" Debbie waved frantically after them.
"Later," Wes said.
They'd barely turned the corner when Debbie swerved to face me with lightning-speed, so that her illuminated face hovered only inches from mine. "You didn't tell me he was in a band!" she exclaimed.
"I forgot," I said, reaching up with a pointed finger and pushing her away so that I couldn't see myself in the ring of her nose. "Besides, he's solo."
Debbie dismissed the news with a bat of her hand. "Doesn't matter, it still makes him more hot."
"Wait, aren't you seeing some guy?" I scowled at her. She'd definitely been talking to some guy for the past month or two. I had an organised archive of all the things that Debbie told me, stuffed away in my head. The rest of my brain was in complete disarray.
"His friend was kind of cute, too." Debbie stared upwards, her expression contemplative.
"Wasn't that Wesley Adams?" I frowned. "Isn't he sort of known for being a-"
"A loser? Totally, but hey, who are we to talk?"
She had a point. We'd sat alone together in the canteen pretty much every day since starting Atlantic High over a year ago, and that hadn't magically righted itself over the course of the summer. We liked to pretend that the reason nobody else really liked us was because they - not us - sucked. Someday, they would realize their wrongs and attempt to atone, but by then it would be too late because I'd be nestled in my own castle, penning my next bestseller and Debbie would be backstage at her boyfriend's latest world tour, guzzling down beers with the entourage.
We trudged slowly onwards, caught in the steady flow of traffic that was headed in the direction of the canteen, when something caught my eye. A flash of colour: fiery red and black, glimmering amongst the steely grey currents of the Atlantic.
Then the crowd momentarily parted, and there she was: Mona, standing against the lockers that lined the walls on the other side. She was radiant, smiling at me from across the corridor, but then my eyes moved to the people that she was standing by.
Carmen and Holly, fussing about in front of their lockers. My heart stopped in my throat as Mona reached up with a hand and waved at me from just a metre or so away from them.
Tomorrow, she'd said. Tomorrow I'll show you.
"Saffy?" Debbie said, looking back at me. I didn't even realize that I'd stopped walking. "What's wrong?"
I took no notice of her. My attention was fixed solely on Mona, who was standing so close behind Carmen that I was almost certain she would have felt her breath on the back of her neck. If she'd been alive, of course.
What Mona did next made me almost swallow my own tongue. She reached out and, to my horror, ran her hand through Carmen's hair. My eyes seemed to switch to macro as they took in the way Mona's fingers drifted through the flowing golden locks of Carmen's hair, as concrete as smoke.
Carmen didn't notice. She carried on chatting away with Holly, their expressions sunny one second and then stern the next. Such was the rapidity with which they breezed over trivial subjects.
"Saffy, come on," Debbie said. "I'm starving, here."
"Wait a sec."
Mona looked over at me, gave me an impish wink. Carmen laughed at some joke or other that Holly had made, and threw her head backwards. The back of her skull cut through the empty air where Mona's cheek would have been.
"Watch this." I saw Mona's lips form the words, but I couldn't hear them over the hustle and bustle of the corridor.
Watch what? I thought to myself, desperately. I wanted to close my eyes and never open them again.
There was a sudden flash of movement as Mona's foot shot out and swept Carmen's legs from under her with such force that she was sent flying, her neck whipping backwards so that she hit the ground head-first. She didn't even have time to shriek. She would have completed a full somersault had the floor not been there to stop her.
All down the corridor, students stopped and turned. By then, the commotion was over. Carmen was curled up on the ground beneath her open locker, cradling her head. Holly stood there, stunned. A couple of people snickered, Debbie amongst them. Most just stared, open-mouthed.
Mona, however, towering over Carmen's whimpering form, began to laugh. It was just like before, like the smooth passage of water over pebbles, only this time there were cracks where a higher squeal broke through. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Debbie was doubled over in laughter and grasping for my arm. "Barbie fell over!" she kept hooting, and other joined in on her delight, albeit nervously.
I wasn't sure what to say. I watched as Holly helped Carmen to her feet, but Carmen only batted her away.
"Get off me!" she snapped. She was rubbing the back of her head, her eyes glazed with furious tears. Holly jumped back, speechless. "I'm fine, I'm not a retard." She stopped and stared into the gathering crowd. "What are you all staring at?"
And then her eyes alighted upon me. I was openly staring at her, my mouth wide and eyes even wider. I looked away as soon as I realized that she'd noticed me, but by then, it was too late.
"What are you looking at?"
She cut diagonally across the corridor, taking wide, vicious steps until she stood only a couple of feet away. Mona watched from afar, her arms crossed over her chest.
"I said, what are you looking at?"
"Nothing."
"Did you think that was funny, Sweet-Eater? Did you think me nearly smashing my head open was funny?"
I looked down at the ground, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. A dark streak of contempt - or, rather, of twisted justice welled up from within me. I lifted my head, looked into her eyes and said, before I could grab the chance to rethink: "Yes."
From across the corridor, Holly gasped. Carmen's face whitened. I heard Debbie, somewhere to my right, howl with laughter. I refused to break eye-contact - although every morsel of my body urged me to turn and run. I watched intently as Carmen pursed her lips and punched her tongue into her cheek, her pupils glinting with sharp-edged rage.
"Oh, really?" She spoke slowly, her words dripping with venom. "I don't think you're in any position to laugh at other people, you lump. Remember what I have on my phone?"
I didn't answer. Victory danced behind her eyes. I could see the hatred, pure and unbroken, oozing out of her every orifice. It rose to the surface of her skin, a deep, seething crimson.
"You better watch out," she snarled, just low enough so that nobody else could hear her. I could feel the eyes of the gathering crowd pricking into my skin. "Don't think you can get away with laughing at me, you freak."
After a prolonged glare, she turned on her heels, stalked down the corridor and disappeared out of sight. Holly, still lost for words, scooped up Carmen's abandoned schoolbag and, after casting me an anxious glance, hurried after her.
I could only stare into the empty space where they'd been standing. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. My head was desolate, filled with the dusty air of hollow places.
"Hey." Debbie touched my arm. "Don't worry about her, she either deleted the photo already or she hasn't got the guts to spread it. And if she does, you go straight to Mrs Vanderbilt, ok?"
"Uh-huh, I guess," I replied, distantly. I felt bad for shrugging Debbie off again, but I needed to get away. I needed just a few minutes to collect myself. "Listen, I'm gonna go to the toilet, ok? I'll follow you in a few minutes; save me a seat."
Debbie eyeballed me suspiciously. "Yeah, sure. Are you feeling ok, Saff?"
"I'm fine," I assured her, "just really, really need the toilet. Won't be long!"
I tore away from her and darted down the corridor. I could feel Mona staring after me from near the lockers. Her smugness leaked into the air like a toxic cloud, threatened to override my whole system.
I burst through the doors of the nearest bathroom and was relieved to discover that it was completely empty. I came to a halt at one of the faucets and took in a deep, measured breath.
One glance in the mirror revealed just how out of my mind I must have looked when the ambush took place. My hair stood out in frayed knots and tangles, and my skin had adopted a noxious green pallor. My stomach felt as though it had turned itself inside out.
I looked down, lost my attention in the ceramic whiteness of the sink. Ambush. The word jammed in my head like an awkward thorn. Was that what it had been? It had all the brash venom of an attack, of malicious intent.
When I looked back up again, Mona was standing behind me in the mirror. I let out a strangled sort of squeal and spun around furiously to face her.
"Don't do that!" I growled through gritted teeth. "I know you can walk through walls and everything, but you don't have to be so subtle about it all. Make yourself known, like everybody else."
Mona's lips parted to reveal a row of perfect, gleaming teeth. "I think I just made myself known quite spectacularly, don't you think?"
Her words made me feel queasy. "Yeah, about that. What the hell just happened out there?"
"That was me helping you. I did tell you yesterday that I'd give you a sample of what I can do. Wasn't it great? She went down like a dead dodo."
"Hardly," I replied. "You could have really hurt her."
Mona snorted. "And? She was horrible to you. Everybody else was glad to see it happen. Besides, she got up with barely more than a bump on her head. She's got her sheep, she'll be fine."
I couldn't look at her. I couldn't stop hearing the smack of Carmen's skull against the tiles, the way she'd cradled her head as though she was trying to keep it from splitting open. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. It sent a stab of guilt through my body, tightening around my heart like an iron fist.
But then I paused, drew a self-brandished dagger through my thoughts. What was I thinking? Carmen had been awful to me. She'd been cruel. She'd invaded my privacy in a way that I was pretty sure was illegal, and most certainly waged a savage attack on one of my biggest insecurities. She'd gathered all the cracks and the dandelions in my architecture and bunched them into one great, ugly bouquet that she'd threatened to display to the world. I'd cried precious tears because of her.
Mona was right. I was being hypocritical; this time yesterday I would have vowed to a lifetime in a nunnery in exchange to see Carmen suffer. Mona was only dishing out the justice that she saw fit.
"Debbie would like you, if she could see dead people," I muttered.
A grin crept across Mona's face. "See! I knew you'd come around. She's a nasty piece of work, Saffy, she needs to be put in her place."
"Right."
"She's a bitch, Saffy."
"Right."
"What is she?"
I hesitated. "A bitch."
Mona threw her hands in the air, exulted. She danced around me, yodelling like a wild Indian and singing at the top of her lungs. I couldn't help it - I smiled. Her delight was infectious. Like the smugness she'd showed in the corridor, her mischievous happiness bled into the air and washed over whatever subject was unfortunate enough to be susceptible to her power. In this case, it was me.
"How did you even do that? What you did out there?" I asked.
Mona came to a stand-still and turned to face me. "What?"
"You took her legs out from under her. You... you touched her, but you're not real."
"Ooh, ouch." She scowled in mock-upset.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that-"
Mona laughed. "I know what you meant, silly. I'm just messing with you. That was a haunting."
"A... a haunting?" I was aware of the concept, of course, but what Mona did seemed different. I'd always thought of a haunting as weird ghostly sightings in family photos, spooky portraits switching places when nobody was looking, doors slamming and lights turning on and off without explanation. What Mona had done... that had been more personal, more intrusive.
"A haunting; yes. A haunting is when I travel from this realm to yours, from the abstract to the concrete," she reeled off. She sounded as though she were quoting an old text-book. "I'm old enough to be quite good at it, you know."
She'd inadvertently held a match to my curiosity. "And how old is that, exactly? Who are you, Mona? I still don't know anything about you."
"That's because, until yesterday afternoon, you didn't want to know anything about me," Mona said, placing her hands triumphantly on her hips. I dipped my head, feeling suddenly as though I'd been called out for misbehaving. "Oh, don't worry about it. I can forgive stubbornness; it's a quality that I possess myself. So, are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" She was moving at a hundred miles an hour, and I was still parked in third-gear.
"To have some fun, you dolt!" Mona beamed at me. She was glowing, her partial transparency suddenly prevailed by a liquid golden sheen, as though her entire body were composed of glimmering water. "We're going to dethrone the Queen Bee; we're going to blunt her sting. Do you know what they say about queen honey bees?"
"What?"
"They only use their stingers to terminate other queens. They can sting multiple times. The honey bees; they're not quite so lucky. Once their sting jabs into something, they tear themselves apart in trying to free their sting. The trouble is," Mona said, her eyes flashing, "Carmen thinks she's the queen when, in fact, she's a simple worker bee who yesterday spent her first and only sting."
"Ok, hold up on the biology lessons," I said, waving my hands at her. "What are you trying to say?"
Mona rolled her eyes. "It's a metaphor. I thought English was your best subject?"
"Well yeah, but - wait, how do you know that?"
"Just because you can't see me sometimes, doesn't mean I'm not watching." She dismissed my query with a whip of her coppery hair. "Anyway, what I'm saying is that Carmen Vespin needs to be brought down a peg or two. What I need to know is if you're ready. Are you?"
I stared at her. She was mesmerising. And Carmen was evil. How on earth could I find the grounds to refuse?
"I'm ready," I breathed.
*************
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