I'd forgotten how much Gary's personality filled a fucking room. I don't mean that in any sort of weird, romantic way or anything. I mean that he made a room shrink with the size of his ego and bullshit. That even a small room like the one I'd been visiting him in for the past month got even smaller when he was in it. That it fucking struggled to keep his whole personality in it at once.
A box in an asylum was even more claustrophobic when he was around, and I'd snuck in there for reasons other than visiting him.
Without Gary, an asylum cell stretched and grew. It didn't take all that many steps to pace from once side of the room to the other, but each of those steps felt like I was trying to walk the whole of New Coventry all of a sudden. If I spoke, I'd place money on my voice echoing now. Against the floor, against the walls, against the fucking sheets. Because now that Gary was missing from the room, there was too much space. It irritated me that he filled a room the way that he did, that he shaped a room around himself so fucking much. That now that he wasn't there, I could notice every fucking crack in the wall.
Gary Smith wasn't there. He was gone, he'd left, he'd been…
…released.
Gary Smith had been released from Happy Volts, and for some reason, no one had thought to tell me about it.
I mean, I wasn't a family member or anything, and I couldn't go up to the desk and say 'yeah, I'm currently fucking Gary Smith most nights of the week, you mind if you let me in on his every movement? Yeah, thanks.' I couldn't put a tracking thing on him like a tagged animal—something that I'd seen on one of Petey's Animal Planet watching nights.
But, I mean, I'd think…Crabblesnitch should have been alerted. Ms. Danvers. Petey. I should have been told, since he had a hard-on for…
…Okay, shitty, shitty pun. The point remained the same. If the guy who clearly was obsessed with me was let out of a mental hospital, shouldn't someone have told me? Shouldn't there have been a note in my mailbox, shouldn't I have been sent to Crabblesnitch's and informed?
No, apparently not. Apparently, not even Gary thought to let me know about something like that. And it didn't escape me that he'd probably known for weeks. That Gary may have known the entire time I'd been visiting him. That maybe he'd just been playing with my head before he got let loose on the world, all over again.
Not to queer out about this or anything, but I felt weird as hell. Fucked over. It was that disgusting feeling of being used, that feeling that I'd forgotten about when it came to Gary.
This was mainly my fault. I let myself get comfortable with Gary, with him being in a box. As if he couldn't talk his way out of it in the same way he talked his way out of everything in his life. Petey had warned me, I'd warned myself…
… Hell, from the beginning, Gary let me know he didn't give a fuck. So why had I fallen for all of that bullshit?
I knew he hadn't escaped, and that he'd been released. A quick sneak into the nurse's station had told me that much. The charts said that he'd been released in the morning.
I wonder what it had been like. Did he have to send an apology to the school? Did his parents show up to take him home?
Not like I knew shit about his parents. I didn't know anything about Gary Smith aside from the fact that he hated me, and that turned him on. Which should have been enough to tell me that I couldn't trust him. I'd even told myself that a million times over, but after awhile, I guess I'd forgotten what that meant.
I sat in his room for an hour, noticing how the bed was made. Neatly, but not with his usual military precision. I'd only noticed it for long enough to make fun of him. Gary clearly had to be bored, if that's what he was doing with his time.
I remembered saying that. His response had been to shove me off the bed, yank off the sheets, and show me how he could do it in record time.
He'd known then that he was going to be released, the little shit.
Slowly, I remembered what hating Gary felt like, and it took all my self-control not to punch the wall. Aside from hurting myself, I would have gotten the attention of the orderlies. And while that would have been the icing on the cake, in terms of how the evening was going, avoiding getting busted still made sense.
Bullworth was having a quiet night. A few prefects strolled the grounds. I settled down on the stairs outside of the boy's dorm, and threw a nod their way as they walked past. Crabblesnitch had essentially told them to give me a free pass, as long as I wasn't getting into trouble, and it was one of those nights that I was happy about that.
I really wished that I could sit there and drink, but even Crabblesnitch drew the line at that. All I had was a can of Beam Cola, and that didn't do shit except keep me up even longer than I needed to be.
Sitting there, I felt my stomach drop even lower than it already was. Who knew Gary wasn't in Volts anymore besides me? I really didn't want to be the one to share that piece of information with Petey. I felt retarded. Petey had told me to be careful, and I hadn't listened. I'd gotten comfortable with seeing Gary. With sleep with the sick bastard, and the whole time, he'd known he would be leaving any day now.
What could I do? I wasn't even supposed to know that he wasn't in Happy Volts anymore, so I couldn't pitch a fit without having to explain myself. And I was not in the mood to explain myself right now. To anyone. Not even to Petey—and if anyone deserved an explanation, it would be him.
I should have listened to the shrimp. I could have saved myself a lot of trouble.
I was about to go inside and get some sleep when I saw Beatrice. I groaned. I didn't need her delusional ramblings about a romantic connection between the two of us, not at four in the morning. Especially not at four in the morning on one of the worst days of my life in recent memory.
She came over to me before I had a chance to get inside, holding her diary to her chest like it was something holy. If she didn't want it taken, she probably should have stopped taking it out of her room. As it stood, I wanted to take the thing and throw it off the pier.
If it wasn't for the fact that I was squarely against hitting girls, I would have wanted to throw it in her face.
"Hey, Beatrice." I couldn't even pretend to sound okay with life. I sounded exhausted, and I felt ridiculous. "Shouldn't you be sleeping or something?"
Beatrice stood at the bottom of the steps, looking excited as hell over something. I didn't want to even start thinking what there was to be excited about at four in the morning. "I saw you come in, and I wanted to talk to you. It's a matter of the utmost importance."
I sighed. "I'm not going to look for your class notes right now, Beatrice, I'm really not in the-"
"It's not about school work," she assured me. "But it is still something that is very, very important, and can inot/i wait until tomorrow." She paused. "Later today." She shook her head. "We have to talk about it right now."
I finished my Beam Cola and put the can down on the steps beside me. I glanced up at her. I wished, not for the first time, that not every girl in the damned school towered over me. Even stringy, awkward Beatrice stood above me, and it was uncomfortable as hell. Especially since I was already on edge, due to dumbfuck Gary Smith's disappearance.
"Okay. What's so important?" Unless she'd actually found the cure for cancer, today, I doubted I'd care all that much.
She sniffled, using one arm to wipe her nose. She always knew exactly what to do to make me want to barf in a bag. "It's about the Halloween Party this weekend. On Saturday." Like I didn't know when the party was. And I didn't see how this was at all important. "And I need an escort."
She was shitting me. She had to be shitting me. "And?"
"And you're going to take me." She was too damned sure of that for her own good.
I raised an eyebrow at her. I wasn't even thinking about the damned party right now. The party was the last thing on my mind, and here she was, acting like it was a life or death situation. And even if I cared about it, which I didn't, Beatrice was forgetting something important. "I'm going with Zoë."
Beatrice shook her head. "Oh, no…I mean, I can see how you could think that, I mean, that you and Zoë were going to be there together, but I have it on good authority that you'd much rather go with me instead."
I stood up, ready to turn and go back inside. "Why would you think that?"
I had my hand on the doorknob before she squeaked out her answer. "Because if you don't, I'll tell everyone where you go every night!"
What had I done to deserve any of this insanity? Right, I'd gotten a blowjob. Karma balanced itself out, right? I turned to face her, clenching the strap to my backpack tightly. I stared at her, at her look of complete smug satisfaction and pride, and I considered going back on my 'not hitting girls' rule. Instead, I walked down the steps to stand directly in front of her, and said the only thing I could.
"Say that again?"
She looked visibly shaken at the fact that I hadn't caved immediately, but I wanted to know exactly what she thought she knew before I flipped out over it. She took a deep breath before standing straighter. "If you don't go with me to the Halloween dance, I will be forced to tell everyone about how you go to Happy Volts every night, and, and…how you're having an illicit affair with Gary Smith."
I stared up into her eyes, ignoring the fact that I had to look at her cold sores on the way to her eyes. "And where the hell did you hear something like that, huh?"
Beatrice's hands damn near spasmed, she was holding her diary so tightly. "I have it on good authority-"
"Yeah, you said that," I dismissed. "What authority?"
Her eyes shot back and forth nervously. "If you could follow me, I would be happy to show you proof…"
Who the hell talked like that besides Beatrice? No one I knew. I grabbed her arm and dragged her behind the boys' dorm. She gasped, but I could care less about the shock factor right now. I dropped my bag on the ground and crossed my arms. "Okay, what's this fucking 'proof' that I'm doing something with Gary?"
"I overheard you and Peter Kowalski talking about Gary Smith while you were in the costume shop. Talking about explicit details." I must have twitched or paled or puked, because she looked like I gave something away in my reaction. "Very explicit. Quite--"
"—assuming you heard something, and I'm not saying you did," but she did, fucking hell, I'd forgotten she was in the store, fuck me fuck me fuck me, "Why would anyone believe any of this?"
She smiled proudly. I hated when she did that. "Because…I've got evidence, in Gary Smith's own handwriting, that you've been visiting him on a regular basis."
"No you don't."
"Yes I do!" She countered. "When I went to make up my psychological evaluation--"
"—how'd that go for you?" I interjected dryly.
She ignored me and continued, "—I overheard Peter Kowalski leaving a visit with Gary Smith." People had first and last names. She should have learned the difference a long time ago. And, also, when the fuck did Petey visit Gary? And why didn't he tell me? "And Peter Kowalski threw away a note that Gary Smith had intended to be delivered to you. I am currently in possession of said note, and if you do not escort me to the dance, I will make copies of it and hand it out to all of our fellow Bullworthians." She nodded, satisfied with this plan.
There was a note? Gary didn't write things down. If things were written down, he could be held to them. So I called her on it. "Bullshit."
"No! I'm quite serious. I could show you his signature," She started pulling something out of her diary. Of course she kept it in her diary. If only the security of that thing was as guaranteed as her virginity.
"No, no need," I assured her. As much as I wanted to doubt her, I didn't think that Beatrice was that devious and clever to think of something this ridiculous on her own. "So, what, I take you to this stupid dance, and you give me this note? How do I know you won't screw me over afterwards?"
She bristled at that. "You have my word!"
"The word of a blackmailer. Right."
"I swear! I double swear!" Beatrice looked fucking offended. Like I'd doubted her honor or something, when she was the one that was trying to fuck me over. "I will hand the note over at the dance. I will bring it with me, in a little purse attached to my costume…" Beatrice smiled shyly. "I'm going as Helen of Troy."
Bile rose as I remembered that costume. Great. Fucking great. Zoë was going as Robin Hood, at least. "And I get to see proof that you have it before we get to the dance."
She nodded excitedly. "Of course."
I willed myself to stop glaring at her. What choice did I have? Last thing I wanted was to have everyone find out that I was screwing around with Gary right after he'd been released. And I wanted to know what the hell she thought she was keeping from me.
Granted, the note probably said 'Ha, you dumb motherfucker, I got your ass', but I still needed to see it.
"Fine, okay, whatever," I spat out. "I'll go to the stupid event with you." She seemed delighted. How wonderful for her. "And then you give me the note, right?"
She nodded again. "Deal." I grimaced as I thought about my life for the rest of the week. Talking to Zoë, dealing with this Gary mess, talking to Petey…fuck. She squeezed her diary like it was a teddy bear. "Oh! This'll be so much fun, Jimmy! It'll be the best night ever!"
Was she fucking delusional? She was clearly just as insane as Gary. Maybe she should have been drugged up on his meds or something. "Yeah, of course, whatever. I've got to get some sleep."
"Night, Jimmy!" she trilled, turning on her heels to practically bounce back to the girls' dorm.
I stared at her before going back inside to my room.
Bitch.
TBC
