Teen Hyde (High School Horror Story #2)(36)

Lucky Strike sidled up to my side. His sunken eyes peered at me. “What’s the hottest piece of her?”

My head whipped in his direction. My expression disappeared from the viewpoint of the camera lens.

“Look at that ass,” said Brody, taking a pretend swing of a baseball bat through the air. He watched his follow-through like he could see a home run sailing overhead.

My neck swiveled now. I glanced over my shoulder. “Hey, where are we going, anyway?”

We were on a sidewalk. Unruly branches hung over the path. There were now more trees than lampposts and buildings. Untended lots speckled the area. We took a turn. There were rows of parked cars along the street with nobody in them. We were making our way farther from the main road. No signs of life up ahead.

“A party,” said Jock Strap Brody.

The camera caught my mouth forming into a soft o.

“See, most girls aren’t cool like you.” Circus Master was walking backward now to face me. “They can be so uptight. You’re not uptight, are you?”

I shook my head. Circus Master came to a stop, so the whole group did, too. I was looking around like I should understand where we were.

“Good, I didn’t think you were,” Circus Master continued, like I’d said it out loud.

“I wonder what she looks like underneath all that.” Lucky Strike pointed to my outfit.

Was it something I’d said? Were they making fun of me or was I in on the joke? The questions played easily on my face. The heady buzz I’d been enjoying at the bar popped and fizzled out.

“I just remembered, my friends will be waiting for me to get back,” I said, turning away from Circus Master, who blocked my path forward.

Jessup easily stepped between me and an escape. “Relax. You’re fine.”

Circus Master pushed his lip into a pout. “But you already told them you’d call them tomorrow. Remember?”

My body visibly stiffened. Jessup twirled me around to face Circus Master. He gave me a little shove in his direction and I stumbled forward. The cameraman backed up and the angle got wider. Circus Master stepped toward me. He gently put his hands on my waist. Then he slid one up to my shoulder and pulled the strap down on my tank top so that it dangled off. “Now, I thought you were cooler than other girls.” I stood frozen. “Right?” I nodded. His voice lowered. “You don’t want to be a bitch, do you?” I shook my head.

I actually lifted my arms as he slid my shirt over my head. I shivered in only my bra and skirt.

“Christ, I’m bored,” said Brody. “Can we hurry this up?”

Circus Master’s eyes flashed. Then he lifted his chin and he laughed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t being a gentleman. You first?”

“Wait.” My voice wasn’t a scream. It cracked and gave me away. I didn’t sound cool. I sounded frightened.

I tried to back up. Lucky Strike caught me by the shoulders. “You’re drunk,” he said. I stared down at his fingers. Then his arms wrapped around my chest and he was pressing me into him.

I wrenched my chin to the right, trying to twist my torso. But Circus Master latched on to my legs. I still wasn’t really fighting. Not exactly. Somewhere in my mind, I thought: If I fight, this all becomes real. I’ll know this is bad. So I bicycled my legs, but without much force.

“Relax, chill out,” Jessup said, shaking his long hair from his eyes. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. You want to be cool, right?”

From behind the camera there was a high-pitched squeal of laughter while on-screen I went limp. My skirt was off and my bare skin was glowing translucent in the nighttime air. Circus Master ushered Brody toward me. Step right up to the center ring, the main attraction.

I’d always worked hard to be the center of attention, but in that moment, I would have paid any amount of money in the world to switch places with another girl.

I didn’t need to finish playing the recording. I knew the naive girl that had first come out of that club had died there in that lot and no longer existed. That she’d been reincarnated as me. I ripped the memory card out of the computer and shoved it into my pocket. I hid the camcorder inside my hoodie and zipped it away.

Fresh humiliation rose to the surface of my skin like festering boils. I yanked the laptop cord from the wall. No one could see me like that. I had to hide it. Get rid of my link to the boys, get rid of that night in my life in general.

And if I couldn’t log in to delete the evidence from the inside, I’d just have to destroy the outside, too. I looked for a hammer. Something heavy that would shatter the traces of the girls broken by the video. Something to keep these boys from having the pleasure of rewatching our pain and to make way for theirs instead.

I was coming up empty-handed when I noticed the window looking out over a modest quadrangle down below. I fiddled with the locks on the pane and shimmied open the glass. Leaning into the fresh air, I stared down at the brick walkway. “That’ll do.”

I snatched up the laptop. The windowsill had a sharp ledge. I smashed the computer down over it. The hard casing dented. I brought it down again and again, impaling the sides. Power surged through my arms down to my fingertips and I felt like a heavymetal drummer. Destructive. Catastrophic.

It wasn’t a knife. And it wasn’t flesh and blood, but the sound of electronics cracking open and breaking apart was still satisfying.