Diana was sitting at what once had been Jennifer Brattle's lavish dressing table. Everything in the room screamed luxury – the deep, plush carpeting, the matching gild on the stool and mirror frame, the bed that was almost comical in how large and grand it was with its canopy and drapes. Sanjit and his siblings had obviously stayed well away from their adoptive parents' bedroom when the FAYZ came, because apart from a light layer of dust, the room had been spotless when she and Caine first entered it. The bed had even been made, the pillows plumped by some long-gone maid.
After Coates, Diana was hyperaware of the small details she had once taken for granted. That first night on the island, she had cried while climbing onto the soft mattress and under the duvet. She had cried again when she took her first shower, the water running over her and washing away months of dirt and blood. The months of filthiness and desolation and despair had changed the way she saw things now. How could it be that only a few days earlier, Diana had been fantasizing about eating rats? How could it be that just that night she had eaten ice cream out of a bowl with a spoon, when only last week, she had bitten and chewed and swallowed …
Oh, God, no, she thought. Enough. She turned her attention to the reflection in the mirror, and was shocked by what looked back at her.
Diana knew that once upon a time she had been beautiful. She knew it, was defined by it, and used it to her advantage. Even now, she somehow expected herself to at least resemble a shadow of who she had been, but she was horrified by what she saw instead.
Her hair was still short, still brittle and rust-coloured from starvation. She missed the heaviness of her long thick hair on her shoulders – when she turned her head, the movement felt empty, hollow. Her cheeks were gaunt, her forehead prominent, bones and angles she didn't know she had sticking out. Two of her teeth had fallen out, but, thank God, all her front teeth were spared. Her skin was grey and sallow. Pre-Coates, pre-starvation, she had never had so much as a freckle, and now she was ridden with pockmarks and spots.
"I look like a drug addict," Diana realised aloud. "Like a heroin junkie," she clarified. Even the shape and outline of her figure, things she had thought would always be part of her, had been erased by months of hunger. She couldn't even recognize her own fingernails. Everything that she had thought had formed a facet of herself, a piece of Diana Ladris, had taken mere months to crumble away. All that was left of the sharp-tongued dark-eyed beauty was this ugly skeleton with red-rimmed eyes that had seen too much. She felt like crying again, the umpteenth time since coming to the island.
Who was she?
She didn't know how much longer she could do this. Was she going to spend the rest of her miserable, pathetic life reliving Coates? Reliving the death of a girl named Diana? Reliving the very moment she had bitten into Panda's cooked arm, and feeling the wave of shame at her body's response? She wouldn't. I'll die if I do, she thought. It'll kill me.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, interrupting her dark thoughts.
"What is it Bug?" Diana called. Caine did not knock, and Penny wouldn't be walking anytime soon.
"Can I come in?" he asked through the door. Probably pretending he hadn't heard.
"What do you want?"
"Can I come in?" he persisted. Definitely pretending.
Diana sighed, got up and pulled her robe tighter, and padded to the door, feet silent in the thick plush carpeting.
"Can I –"
"What, Bug?" She half-pulled, half-threw the door open in exasperation, and instantly regretted it when she saw the satisfaction on Bug's face. He cackled and said, "Jesus, Diana, relax. Are you on your period or what?" Diana gritted her teeth but let it go.
"Bug. I'm not going to ask you again. Either tell me what you came here to say, or get the hell out." She considered adding "of my room", but felt that 5 days wasn't long enough to take ownership of anything. She still felt like a visitor here.
"It's Caine. He wants you."
Diana waited.
"In the kitchen? He says he wants you in the kitchen."
She said nothing.
"Hello? Like, now."
Diana closed the door in Bug's face and dressed quickly in Jennifer Brattle's clothes. But she took her time on the walk down to the kitchen. If Caine wanted to send Bug to her instead of coming to her directly, well, then, he could afford to wait a little.
As she walked, Diana noticed that almost all the lights in the house were on. There was a huge flatscreen TV on in one room with a video game paused. Bug's room. But down the hall in another room in this endless mansion, another TV was on, paused on a movie. And in yet another empty room, for seemingly no reason, a fan ceiling was rotating lazily, every light on and emitting a soft golden glow.
Diana realised that if they wanted to keep the generator on for as long as possible, they had to stop wasting all this energy. Even though Caine could levitate the fuel from the crashed boat, the supply wasn't indefinite, and Diana did not like the idea of sleeping in a room where she could not see Bug's invisible distortion entering and leaving. Or of feeding Penny in the dark. She should speak to Caine about the power supply, but what would he care? The only power that Caine cared about was not the kind that generators produced.
When she entered the kitchen, Caine was sitting at the island counter on a high stool with his head laid on his arms. From here, like this, it was almost like he was just a boy with his head down in class. Like maybe he was in Algebra or something, just sleeping in class.
Diana remembered those pre-FAYZ days with acute detail. She remembered her first time seeing Caine when she moved down from Santa Monica, noticing Caine noticing her. She recalled perfectly how at first she thought he was a normal, handsome boy, clumsy with Diana but obviously taken with her, yet confident and charming around others. She remembered how easy it was to make him want her, throwing a glance or smile his way every so often, brushing his hand while reaching to get something. She remembered the things she made him do for her, and then later, the things she did to stay with him.
She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and Caine shot up, his back straight, the illusion shattered. He frowned.
"What took you so long?"
Diana kept quiet and simply shrugged, still lost in memories.
"Okay, well, I was getting hungry – do you wanna eat?" Caine waited for her to answer, hoping she would take the hint and start making something for dinner, maybe one of those readymade mac and cheeses they'd seen in the oh-so-well-stocked walk-in pantry. But still nothing from her. He didn't know what was making Diana so sulky these days. Hadn't they done it? They were here! On the island! Surrounded by food and luxury and running water, they had everything they could ever want, but it was like it was never enough for her.
"Diana?" he prompted.
"Yeah," she finally said. "Yeah, OK." And she sat herself down on a stool one down from Caine.
"… see question five point two?"
"… no idea what to do, I just guessed …"
"… asleep, swear to God, I was so tired …"
Diana Ladris walked out of class 5A with her bag swinging over one shoulder, listening to the chatter of her classmates around her. Helen Abello ran to catch up with her.
"Hey, Diana! What did you think of the test?"
"It was OK," she replied automatically. She would never admit it, but Calculus was one of her favourite classes. She was cautious never to achieve top marks though, so no one could accuse her of being a nerd. Diana liked to remain safe in the middling area of her class – definitely above average, but well below being called an outstanding student. It was a good place for a girl like her.
"Really? I left out at least four questions, it was so bad. That's, like, twelve marks gone. And," she said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I know for a fact that Melissa was crying during the test. Mr Mathews literally had to give her the box of tissues from his desk – I mean, what a weirdo, right?"
Diana laughed cruelly. "Melissa Clark won't even get within breathing distance of a high school diploma. Her GPA is probably in the negatives. Anyway, everyone knows she's been crying this week because she has to get an abortion. Tragic, right?"
Helen flipped her short brown hair and laughed uncomfortably – Helen didn't know she knew, but Diana was aware that she'd had her own abortion last April.
As they walked down the rather grandiose staircase to the dining hall, Helen drifted slowly away. Recently, Diana had started sitting with Caine and his crew, while Helen remained with the group of girls that had been together since fifth grade. Diana was disdainful of them – Lisa was a desperate hanger-on, Ashlea was so dumb it boggled the mind, and Caitlynn didn't even seem to have a personality of her own, instead absorbing that of those around her. Still, she supposed, they were pretty normal by Coates standards. Especially now.
Diana got her tray from the lunch lady and went to sit at Caine's table. Only Drake, a boy in her English and History classes, was there. He was eating the lasagne with vigour, a chewed-up apple core on the side of his tray.
"Hey, Drake."
"Hey," he muttered, not looking at her.
Drake Merwin had been a sort of enigma to Diana ever since she'd arrived at Coates. He was always on the fringe, surrounded by an air of menace, but their paths had never crossed until she found herself in the sphere of Caine and his cronies. She found him highly interesting, and so she took every opportunity she could to study the strange boy. Diana sat down and watched him eat, noticing how he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, not even for a second. He would look down at his food, up at the ceiling, at the people at the next table, but never once at Diana.
It intrigued her.
"Hungry?" she pushed, testing the waters. He made a noncommittal noise and scooped another forkful of lasagne into his mouth.
She decided to go all in. "How's it taste though, any good? I'm usually not such a fan of the lasagne myself."
Drake looked her dead in the eyes and said, "Shut up, Diana, I'm eating." And proceeded to shovel another forkful into his mouth.
Diana burst out laughing, half shocked, half delighted by the reaction she had provoked. The sound of her laughter was lost in the babble of the huge dining hall, but Drake narrowed his eyes.
Caine arrived at the table, visibly fuming, and slammed his tray down, his glass of juice slopping over onto the table. Diana's own tray bounced up from the force. His own or the power? she wondered.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Drake here is a comedian."
"What?" Caine looked suspiciously at Drake, who had moved on to attack his jelly and custard. Caine let it go quickly – he didn't have to worry about Drake like that, he knew how much he disliked Diana.
They continued eating in silence, Caine growing angrier by the minute, Drake oblivious, and Diana watching it all with an air of detachment. Whatever it was that was bugging Caine, she wasn't going to be the one to ask. She wondered vaguely where Benno and Freddie were, toying with the food in front of her.
But when Caine knocked the remainder of his orange juice onto Drake's tray – accident or mistake, Diana couldn't tell – Drake finally turned his head from the table where the senior girls sat.
"What the hell?" And then, registering the look on Caine's face, "Oh. Dude, what happened?"
"Bitch teacher. She told me off for talking to Frederico and Benno. They've got lines to do now, but me, I've got a fucking detention to do. On Friday," he fumed.
Drake sat up a little straighter. "Yeah, it's that new teacher, right? The little blonde one? Stuck up bitch." After a second, he added enthusiastically, "Hey, add her to the list!"
Diana leaned in close and cut in. "Are you an idiot, Drake? Do you want to say that any louder? Why don't you put in a morning announcement so the whole school can add a name to the list? Moron."
Drake flared angrily but said nothing in Caine's presence. Diana raised an eyebrow, just a little, just enough to let him know that she knew he wouldn't dare. She watched his jaw working, fascinated by the sudden violence of the boy's emotions, and smiled a tiny, smug smile, enraging him further.
Caine noticed nothing. "Yeah. Yeah, add her to the list. Who else is on there?"
"Do I look like a Post-It to you?"
"Haha, Diana. Very funny. Who's on it?"
Diana sighed and made a big show of remembering, counting them off on her fingers. "Mr Simons and Melissa Clark for me. The new teacher for you. And Dekka, Mrs Bailey, Lisa and the new girl in English for Drake. He doesn't ask for a lot, does he?" Diana had noted the trend of all of Drake's targets, past and present, being female. A worrying thought.
Caine frowned. "That's way too many, Drake, people will start noticing. I'm pretty sure the nurse already thinks something is up. Besides, Mrs Bailey? Does she even teach you?"
"She confiscated my phone."
Diana said mockingly, "Oh poor baby, she confiscated your phone? You go to a boarding school, who on earth are you texting during school?"
Caine wasn't listening, absorbed in his own thoughts, so Diana pushed further.
"Is it your mom? Do you want your mom to come pick you up, huh, Drake? Don't you like it here?"
"Diana, shut up, you –"
The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and Drake threw his chair out and stormed off, physically pushing people out of his way.
"Don't, Diana."
"What? I was just –"
"Don't. I get that you two don't like each other and I get that he's an unstable psychopath, but I need him. He's useful."
They stood and continued talking on the way to History. "Useful? Caine, what do you even need him for? You're the one with the power, you're the four-bar. People are already scared of you, he's unnecessary."
"Yes, but people are scared of him too, and I can't do everything without someone else to help me. Someone to do the dirty work, to make people give me what I want so I don't get involved too deep. Benno and Freddie, they're game for this, but when it comes straight down to it, who are you more afraid of, Diana?"
And when she didn't reply, he said, "Yeah, I thought so. So, Drake stays."
"For now," she said.
"For now," he allowed.
They reached History just as the bell rang, signalling the beginning of the lesson. As she walked to her desk and sat herself down, Diana noticed that Drake's seat was empty. Probably off killing small animals to let off steam, she thought to herself, or booked for another counselling session (of which she herself had endured her fair share). She saw Caine register Drake's empty seat, and a little furrow form between his brows. Yes, Caine, excellent henchman qualities – except for the fact that he's a certified fucking psychopath, she thought, rolling her eyes. She unpacked her books from her satchel and opened them to the correct pages, laid her stationery out in front of her, leaned back and crossed her ankles. The History teacher, Mr Letcher, walked in and greeted them, and as usual there was no response. He sighed and began the lesson.
Diana turned her head and looked out the window that pointed towards the east, towards Perdido Beach. From the lofty heights of Coates, you could easily see the little beach town hugging the coast, the expanse of the sea. Somewhere down there, the mainstream kids were sitting in their mainstream school, talking about mainstream things. Diana pretended, like all the Coates kids, that the townies were inferior, pitiable even, but secretly she envied them. Absentmindedly fingering the collar of her blazer, she wondered what it would be like to be normal – to go to the mall on weekends, sleep over at a friend's, worry about homework and boys and clothes. Perdido Beach to her seemed like a beacon of normalcy, everything she wanted but could not have. Nstead she was stuck here, at Coates, with a boy who could move matter with a thought and another one who despised her and probably wanted her dead.
She looked over at Caine. It was the first five minutes of the class but his head was already on his arms, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He looked deceptively innocent asleep. She knew why he was so tired – the past week, she, Caine, Benno, Drake and Freddie had been sneaking out at night to meet and discuss their plans, although to Diana that mostly meant sitting and watching the boys flex their egos. They never really achieved much, but Diana kept going. It seemed like the smarter move.
The door burst open and Drake walked in, heading for his seat behind Caine. Mr Letcher turned to admonish the latecomer, but upon seeing who he was dealing with, turned quickly to face ther smartboard. Diana turned in her seat to smile widely at Drake, but his head, too, was already on his desk. She sighed and, having no suitable distractions, turned her attention to the signing of the Peace Treaty.