The next morning, I sat together with Lance in my world history class, as was customary on Tuesdays. The bell hadn’t rung yet so the two of us were sitting idly in bitter anticipation of the day’s beginning. For whatever reason, with his chair turned so that he could use my desk, he had been scribbling gibberish onto the last page of his notebook while shooting me the occasional weary glance. I had considered letting it slide at first since I felt like the moment would pass him eventually, but the frequency of his eyes meeting mine caused me to concede to my curiosity.

  “What, man?” I asked.

  “Your hair.”

  “My hair? What about my hair?”

  “It looks… good?” He scratched the back of his head. “It’s weird. It doesn’t look like an upside-down soup bowl today.”

  I felt myself getting angry. Calm down Tristan, it’s just Lance. He’s just trying to get under your skin.

  “Thanks, I got it cut yesterday.”

  “No prob.” I felt my face relax into a smile when he got the words out. It was a wonder that he still found ways to play me like that after all these years, but he wouldn’t be Lance if he couldn’t. “Where’d you get it cut anyway?”

  “Lawrence did it,” I said.

  “Law- tch. What, he couldn’t take my girlfriend so now he has to go after my best friend? What is that guy’s deal?”

  I shrugged. “What? It’s not like he’s talking to us just to hurt you.”

  “Huh? Of course he is. That guy’s a spite-driven LOSER! Plus, he’s not even that good at basketball. Where does he get off?”

  “Uh, yes he is.”

  Lance glared my way. “Huh. That was an awfully defensive response, Trist. What, do you like him or something?”

  “Yeah, he’s cool.”

  “Huh?!“

  I had taken a look at the book Lawrence had loaned me when I got home last night. ‘The Secret to Being Admired’ by Jeremy Felix. Judging just by the introductory passage, people tended to value two things, outward kindness and authenticity over everything else when dealing with other people. The problem was that the combination of these two attributes were very difficult to balance when communicating with others.

  When I thought back to what I found so mesmerizing about Laura Young, the author’s hypothesis neatly explained why she seemed almost unrealistically beautiful to me. That someone could be so genuinely kind almost seemed too good to be true. Could a normal human being truly ever live up to that ideal? Was it possible for someone like me? At the very least, Lawrence had at least attempted to live up to that ideal for the past four years. And regardless of whether it was successful or not, that he had even tried to be like Laura was enough for me to respect him.

  “Whatever man,” Lance said, pouting and returning to his scribbling.

  “Huh? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He kept pouting.

  “By the way…” I glanced down at the book he was scribbling inside of. “I’ve been meaning to ask what you think it is you’re doing.”

  “Practicing my signature,” he said.

  “Your… really?“

  “Hell yeah. I’m a movie star now, Trist. What, do you think I’m gonna let the fact that you were hanging out with Lawrence get to me? No, man. I’m famous. I was on the big screen. There’s a star in Hollywood with my name on it, you know? They haven’t written it down yet, but that Queltin Tatatino guy’s gonna be e-mailing my manager any second now after that amazing performance. And you know what? If he signs me at seven figures, then I MIGHT consider helping him out on his little movie. But forget about that, the point is that I’m above your petty little high school games.” He waved his hand at me dismissively. “I’m in the big leagues now. I won’t have any shortage of friends where I’m going.”

  Why did his head get so swollen over a student film we threw together at the last minute? Was Lance always like this?

  “Ignore him Trist, he’s just jealous that you made a new friend.” The voice came from Naomi, who took a seat on my desk like she always did. Lance tugged his book away with the soft anger of a puppy that had its favorite toy taken away. “I like your new look Trist, it’s cute.”

  “Oh thanks, but… why would he be jealous of that?” I asked.

  “Who’s jealous? I’m not jealous, okay?” He leaned forward to rest his chin on Naomi’s lower thigh then glared at me. “Listen man. Like I said, I’m a celebrity now, okay? Everyone knows me because of that movie. I’ve got a reputation to maintain and whatever. Do you really think I have the time to be jealous of what a few peons get up to in the day?”

  “Yeah,” Naomi said.

  “I can see it,” I agreed.

  “NO I’M NOT! Dude listen…”

  Before he could begin explaining, Naomi began rubbing the top of his head gently through the top of his beanie. For whatever reason, that appeared to have interrupted his train of thought, and his tense expression seemed to melt away into a strange grin.

  “Listen what?” I asked.

  “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

  I wasn’t sure what about her caressing his head had changed what he was about to say, but I was apparently going to be spared more bragging for the time being.

  “So anyway Trist,” Naomi said as she turned back to me. “I heard from a little birdie that you and Zoey are dating now. Is that true?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Lance said. “They’re dating. They started going out last… wait, what?”

  “We’re not dating,” I said.

  “But…” Naomi, eyebrows furrowed, looked down at Tristan. “I heard from Krista that Zoey said…”

  “Whatever she said is a lie. We’re not dating, I have no interest in dating her, and I will never date her.”

  “Really…?” Naomi looked down with her arms folded. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I get why you’d be hesitant. I mean, I’m the one who told you about that Oliver person so of course I get it, but… why’re you flat out denying it? Did you talk to her about it? Is there like, bad blood?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

  “Mm, okay. I understand,” Naomi said. “But then what about the club?”

  “I’ll probably talk to Jaz about it. It sucks, but I don’t really want to go back there anymore.”

  Silence fell over the three of us. I hadn’t meant to make things awkward, but it felt like the right decision. I don’t know what Zoey was planning by starting that rumor, but it would most likely be for the best if I distanced myself from her as much as possible.

  “Speaking of, where is the old slavedriver anyway?” Lance asked.

  “Slavedriver,” Naomi repeated.

  “She’s just got that vibe to her, you know? Like if we were still in the early 1800s, she’d be cracking the old snake with a wicked nasty grin on her face.”

  “If you’re leaving the club Trist,” Naomi said while holding Lance’s head with such a forceful grip that I thought she’d rip his scalp off. “Then that means Lancey is leaving too, which means that I’m also leaving. So, the club’s going to go back to needing three more members or it’ll get shut down. Are you going to be okay with that?”

  Well, I wasn’t, but I could coordinate with Jaz to make sure that they’ll have enough replacements before we quit.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Ow, ow, ow. Hey, don’t call me Lancey in front of Trist,” Lance said.

  “Why not? He knows we’re dating this time so why hide it?”

  “Ugh… you’re just so….” He scratched his head where Naomi’s grip had loosened, then sighed again. “Whatever, But seriously, guys. Where is Zoey? She’s usually the first person here.”

  “It’ll be fine. The club won’t get disbanded,” I said. “Zoey would never let that happen.”

  Naomi seemed to ponder my assessment for a moment, then smiled. “You must have a lot of faith in her.”

  “In some parts of her.”

  She always gets her way in the end. No matter how much the odds are stacked against her, it’s like she knows how to bend people to her whims and eventually get what she wants. And if someone dares to oppose her, she’ll simply stomp them out like a cockroach. I’ve seen it time and time again when she was opposed by Ben, Gwen, and even Lawrence. At this point I’m convinced that not even adults could stand in her way.

  “Guys I’m being one hundred percent serious right now. Where is she?” Lance asked.

  “”Who cares?””

  The palpable shock on Lance’s face when we’d both shut down his question caused him to reel back in his seat.

  “Dude, I feel like I’m in the twilight zone right now. Why do you guys both hate Zoey all of a sudden? You’re making me look like one of her rabid fanboys.”

  “It’s not really that we hate her… right Trist?”

  “I hate her,” I said.

  “You do?” Naomi asked.

  “Seriously…?” Lance frowned. “After everything that’s happened?”

  “Yeah, I do.” I stared down at my fingers near my lap. “I spent the past few nights thinking about it, and I’ve learned a lot about how I feel about her. Yeah, I do hate her. I hate her, but at the same time it’s not like I think she’s someone who’s like… malicious is the word, right? I don’t think she’s malicious enough to inspire hate, she’s just different.”

  “Different?” he asked.

  Like the difference between a lion and a gazelle, I wanted to say. Call me dramatic, but the fact that Zoey Brahm lives among normal people seems to me like a failing of our species. I wonder how many Zoeys there are walking around out there in the world, making the lives of those around them miserable in such a cold, sophisticated manner?

  Before I could answer Lance’s question though, a familiar voice called out to me from in the direction of the door.

  “Hey Tristy, has Zoey…. oh holy shit you’re HOT today. Nice haircut!”

  There stood Jazmine Lee, whose braids swayed as she tilted her head with her expression of concern visibly peering into me. I felt my face burn up as she complimented my appearance in front of my friends, who were both raising eyebrows at me.

  “T-thanks…” If I hadn’t known what I learned on Sunday, I might have gotten the wrong idea. What is wrong with my heart?

  “Anyway, has Zoey come to class yet?”

  “Oh, no she hasn’t,” I said.

  “Hmm, this is really weird.”

  “See?! I knew I wasn’t crazy” Lance said with indignation coloring his expression.

  “What’s wrong?” Naomi asked.

  Jaz looked down at her phone and began navigating through the multitude of different colors that reflected in her eyes.

  “I haven’t been able to get in touch with her since club ended yesterday,” she said.

  Good riddance, I wanted to say. But I knew that it would have come off as insensitive. None of them knew what Zoey had put everyone through. But still, if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to see her face again.

  “Huh? Yeah, that is weird,” Naomi said. “Do you need extra hands with the club today while she’s out? The three of us can help you out.”

  “Really?” Jaz’s eyes beamed up from the phone, and for a moment, I thought I noticed dazzling sparkles pouring out of her irises as she turned to face me. “You mean it?”

  “Y-yeah…” I said, turning away as my face was slowly dyed a bright shade of red. If Zoey isn’t here, then there’s no reason to turn her down for the time being, right?

  “Huh? Help her?” Lance asked. “I thought we were all quitting.”

  “You’re… quitting?”

  The gentle shock in Jaz’s voice caused both myself and Naomi to twist our heads in utter dismay. I don’t know what kind of faces we were both making, but the normally callous Lance had recoiled back in his seat the second our gazes landed on him.

  “What man? You said you were, right?”

  “Lancey. Time and place.”

  “Wait why? Why are you all quitting? Is something wrong?” Jaz asked.

  When Lance and Naomi averted their gazes, Jaz’s own eyes naturally fell onto me. I felt the weight of the emotions Lance’s words stirred within her on my shoulders. This really wasn’t the time to talk about this, but we were far beyond being able to brush it off.

  “I don’t mind helping out while you’re alone, but…”

  “Is it Zoey?” she asked.

  Hesitation overwhelmed me. I felt guilty admitting that Zoey, the girl they all knew I loved, was the reason I wanted to leave the club. But I eventually nodded. There was no point in playing coy. Jaz deserved the truth at least. At my response, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed all of this onto you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I really did think I could do this, really. Things just got kinda…”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I understand. I’ll look into getting someone to replace you guys if she shows up today. Don’t worry, I’ll make it a clean break for you.”

  I nodded. “Okay, thank you. And sorry.”

  Jaz shook her head. “What, you think I blame you for leaving? I mean, it’s Zoey.”

  I laughed. “Fair enough.”

  Naomi heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed like things would work out after all. I’m sure Jaz was disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to work together anymore, and so was I. But it’s for the best. The future is unforeseeable, so all we can do is make our best efforts to make it into something positive for ourselves and those we care about. And I appreciated her for understanding and being so willing to go above and beyond for me.

  “Trist… what did Zoey do to you?”

  Lance’s question caused me to flinch, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. There was so much I could tell him, but nothing I wanted to. Because deep down, I knew that getting him involved with Dream Paralysis meant getting him involved with Zoey even more than he already was. What I wanted now was a clean break with her. And for that to happen, the last thing I needed to do was to tell him what was going on.

  “Oh, speaking of which,” Jaz spoke up. “The real reason I came here was to tell you that Ben wants to talk to you, Tristy.”

  When I heard his name, all the negative emotions of the past month washed over me at once. I told Lawrence that I would do what I could, but realistically, I had no plan beyond accepting his anger and prostrating myself.

  ”Benny Ben?” Naomi tilted her head. “What does he want?”

  Jaz shrugged. “Said he wanted to clear the air or something. I told him I’d relay the message but honestly, I think you’re better off ignoring him.”

  “Yeah, for sure. That guy can get bent man.” Lance folded his arms. “After everything he’s done, you shouldn’t give him the time of day unless he apologizes.”

  Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was considering doing just that. From his point of view, it must have been strange to have avoided expulsion because the guy you put into the ground a week ago put in a good word for you. It’s also possible that he just wants to talk about Gwen, but there’s no point in guessing, is there?

  I stood up and began heading to the door.

  “Wha… hey, Trist?” Lance called out.

  “Trist…?” Naomi asked.

  But Jaz was wordless.

  She hadn’t offered me so much as a change in expression.

  Was it because of what she told me at the lake? About Tanner and Zoey?

  Obviously, I was a little curious about that, but that wasn’t why I was heading over there.

  After all, I’ve decided that I’m done with Zoey now.

  The reason I headed out of the door was because I had to talk to Ben about Ben.

  “Oh.”

  And that was the only thing on my mind until I left through the door. Because when I turned to my right, I found myself flinching before I knew it. She had mentioned Ben, but the person I came face to face with a couple of steps outside of the classroom did not look very much like him. No. It was a different, familiar face from a few weeks ago.

  “James,” I said.

  Lance’s music friend. I hadn’t seen him since I said those things to him during homecoming week. He was just another person whose name aroused that terrible guilt inside of me. Like Ben and Gwen, he was another person who didn’t deserve what I’d done to them. However, perhaps unlike them, a simple apology could probably rectify this. After all, while the words I’d left him with were hurtful, they were still nothing but a childish outburst. I was sure he’d understand.

  “Hey James, about those things I said the other day to you. I…”

  My words got caught in my throat.

  A hard lump had kept them from coming up my esophagus.

  What kind of expression was that?

  His eyes were wide as the skin around the edges were decorated with black eyeliner. Their bulging red veins in his whites were almost pulsating as his pupils intently held me down forcibly as if they’d petrified me.

  And that deranged smile he donned.

  What was with that?

  Why was he looking at me like that?

  Why did he have the look of a man with nothing to lose?

  And then…

  Why did he utter those words?

  “I know what you’ve done.”

  A chill crawled up my back.

  I instinctively took a retreating step.

  I thought I saw his expression grow more gleeful at my reaction.

  This… wasn’t the James from a few weeks ago.

  I had no idea what he was talking about or why he was looking at me like that.

  But something had changed.

  Did my outburst cause something in him?

  Something so bad that I had unknowingly put myself in danger?

  …Danger?

  Why?

  Why did I feel like my life was in danger?

  It’s the middle of the morning.

  There’s people around us, both in the classroom and outside of it.

  He’s just another student.

  So why…?

  “I…”

  My breathing grew rough.

  A panic attack.

  I felt a panic attack coming.

  I’m going to die.

  He’s going to kill me.

  He’s…

  “Hey.”

  The new voice drew me back into reality.

  Benjamin, whose daunting figure towered over everyone else in the halls, had placed his palm on James’s shoulder from behind.

  “I need to borrow Tristan for a bit. D’you mind?”

  “Hm? Oh nah, go ahead. He’s all yours.” When my eyes focused on James’s face, he had the same aloof expression that I’d seen in the music room the other day, while the one I saw earlier, the one I thought I saw, had dissipated completely. “See you around Trist.”

  “H-huh? Oh, yeah…”

  I felt my heavy breathing slow down as he walked past me.

  It was my mind. It had to be.

  My guilt had been playing tricks on me.

  I must have been going insane.

  After all, not even Zoey herself had ever appeared quite that terrifying to me.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to bring myself back into a more grounded headspace. Just as Gwen had told me to weeks ago, I steadied my breathing until I felt comfortable enough to function as normal and then glanced back up at Ben.

  His face hadn’t conveyed anything to me. There was no anger, sadness, regret, or even joy to be discerned from the look he was giving me. If I had to characterize it, it was like a classmate communicating with me about the particulars of a homework assignment.

  “Somewhere more private we can talk?” he asked.

  I reached into my pocket to feel the metal of the keys. That I had bothered to bring them at all irked me, but I decided that it had to have been a blessing in disguise.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  After we entered the photography club, the conversation, no. The soliloquy I was greeted by had left me with feelings more conflicted than the ones I’d been struggling with before I left the classroom.