Teeth(46)

We walk to the marina together, and she puts her hand that isn’t holding the gun into mine. It doesn’t really feel right, but it does feel very good. Her hand is so warm.

I almost laugh, thinking about what my parents think Diana and I do together. The kiss was so chaste. Something’s over.

“Remember,” she says, “I’m not killing anyone.” She made the executive decision that she’s going to be the one to wield the gun. I don’t know.

“Of course. No killing anyone.”

“I’m only threatening.”

“Don’t shoot any fish, either. Teeth’ll freak out, and it’s really no good to have him freaking out right now.”

“Why would I shoot a fish?” She thinks about this for a minute. “Can I shoot one if it tries to rape me?”

I swallow. “Yeah. Yeah, shoot anything that tries to rape you, definitely.”

“But not the fishermen.”

“I mean, if they try to . . . ” I shake my head. “Don’t shoot the fishermen. We need the fish.”

“I know, Rudy.”

But her answer doesn’t stop the soreness in my stomach. Lightning strikes way off in the distance, over the sea. It’s so far away that we don’t hear the thunder, but I can taste the electricity, or I feel like I can. It tastes like the sour candy Mom used to hand out on Halloween. It tastes like cigarettes.

Diana says, “Are we going?” and points the way with her gun.

I hadn’t realized I’d stopped. “Right.” We walk, together, the rest of the way to the marina.

We crouch behind the rocks and peer around the corner.

No sign of the fishermen. Now I remember that I have no idea where they sleep. Fuck. I should have looked for pillows and blankets or hammocks or something last time I was here. And it’s too dark now to see much of anything, and it’s not like I’m about to go waving my flashlight around. I’m not turning it on until I’m in the cabin.

“I don’t know where the fishermen are,” I say.

Diana whispers, “Maybe they have houses.”

I shake my head. “We’re the only house this far over.” And I think I know who lives in every other house on the island. I wish Teeth were with us. He knows for sure where everyone lives.

“Where is he?” she asks.

I point toward the boat.

“Well,” she says. “Come on then.”

I feel like this is too easy. I guess the hard part will be keeping him safe after we get him free. No, I can’t think that far ahead right now. I need to focus. And then I’ll hide him under my bed or something, I don’t f*cking care. I’ll worry about that later.

I lead the way while she walks behind me, turning in half circles with the gun outstretched. She must have read a heist book, because she’s really good at this. I bet she could shoot to kill.

I climb into the boat and into the cabin. “Hey, champ, I’m back.” I switch on the flashlight and blink a few times, and then everything comes into focus.

His arms are tied up and behind his head, and a long spike holds the base of his tail to the floor. Most of the scales on the front of his tail are missing. There are just a few left, clinging to the bloody ulcers right above the tip of his tail. The hole at the top, the one that used to be so small that you could almost believe it was innocent, now goes almost all the way through him, and it’s weeping a million different shades of fluid. His whole body is bloated from swelling.

And I think, I’m too late.

I left him for too long.

His face is mostly bruises. I take out the gag.

I whisper, “Teeth?”

And he opens his eyes, squinting in the light, and gives me the world’s faintest smile. “Not anymore,” he says, with a small laugh. He opens his mouth wide.

All his teeth are filed down to almost nothing.



I start with the spike on his tail.

Diana is standing guard at the door, but I still get freaked out every time Teeth moans. “You’ve got to be quiet, kiddo,” I say. “You’ve got to be quiet. Do you know where they sleep?”

“No.” He breathes hard, the remains of his teeth mashing together. I hear the dangling flakes that cling to the stubs, thin like shale, clicking and breaking off, and it makes me feel sick.

He cries out as I edge the spike farther out. I consider putting the gag back in his mouth, but, just, no, so instead I keep one gentle hand on him while the other is pulling out the spike and pray it’s enough to keep him calm. He whimpers.

“Shhhh. I know.”

“It’s not fair, you know?”

“I know.”

“You’ve saved me way more times than I’ve saved you.”

Oh. “You tend to get yourself in more shit than I do.”

“Not a good friendship.”

“Well. We’re not exactly friends.” I give him a smile so he’ll know I’m kidding. This smile feels like the worst thing I’ve ever done.

But he grins. “Look at that big smile. Knew you were an *.”

I twist the spike out a little farther, and he groans. “I know,” I say.

He’s not grinning anymore. Every time I move the spike, he sobs again. He looks so dried up, but a few tears find their way out.