4. Dangerous Gossip

As time-consuming as my new position as a med assistant is, the next few days pass by without much incident. Emily seems perfectly willing to take on the brunt of interactions with the football players, so I manage to more or less avoid Emeric entirely.

By the time Friday afternoon practice lets out, I feel better than ever about my decision to sign up with the sports med team. I even work up enough courage to ask Emily if she can let me know about my probationary status with the student med team ahead of time.

“It’s just, I’ve still been picking up shifts with my part time job, and if I can quit, I’d rather do that sooner than later,” I explain to her.

Emily looks up from her clipboard, startled. “Hmm? Oh! No, of course. I’m supposed to give them weekly reports about your probationary status, but it’ll mostly just be a formality. You were excellent with the boys’ physicals on Wednesday, and you did well with Jessica today.”

She walks over to the other side of the cramped office, saying, “Look, this is their data, which you’ll need to sort next week. It’s your last test, as far as I’m concerned. As long as you get a hang of the necessary technical skills, I can promise to keep you past your probationary month.”

I peer at the tables upon tables of numbers, and I must look doubtful, because Emily smiles to placate me. “I’ve glimpsed your transcript, Cecilia. You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s nothing more complicated than what you’re currently learning in Intermediate Medical Lab Sciences.”

“Oh, okay then.”

As I wander out of Emily’s office and round the corner, however, I hear: “Cecilia? Cecilia? Cissy!”

I whirl around. “Oh, hi, Grace. Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“Can you come by the change room real quick? Jess is freaking out that she’s not taping her ankle right, and we can’t find any of the older girls who can help.”

“Oh, uhh…” I glance at my phone. I’ll be late for my bus if I don’t start heading out soon.

“Do you need to be somewhere?”

I make a face. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got to be downtown by seven-thirty.” The restaurant closes extra late on weekends, and they’ve scheduled me for a half shift to help close up even after I told them I couldn’t do Fridays anymore.

Grace puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me from turning away. “Wait, but it’s not even—oh, you’re taking the bus.” She looks taken aback, as if she’s just encountered an utterly foreign concept. “I mean, I can just drive you there? We were headed that way anyways. What do you say? I don’t want to, like, bother the doc just for taping an ankle.”

I capitulate, following her around the corner to the cheer team’s change room. It’s larger and nicer than I expected, but I suppose our school does have a good reputation for their athletics program. It’s pretty much empty, though, just Jessica reclining on a bench and Amy doing her eyeliner at the mirror.

Helping Jessica re-tape her sprained ankle doesn’t take long, but Grace seems to be waiting for Amy to finish up as well. I check the time discreetly, noticing that we might end up slightly later than seven-thirty.

“Are you okay?”

I stop shifting my weight back and forth. “Yeah, sorry.” Then I make a sudden decision. “Actually, do you mind if I run to the restroom?”

“Go ahead. It’ll be another ten minutes at least.”

I bite my lips. “Uhh, which way…”

“Oh, just duck into the main locker room, the one with the showers?”

That’s not as helpful of an answer as Grace probably intended it to be, but I smile and thank her anyway, grabbing a cloth bundle from my book bag on my way out.

It won’t matter if I get to work a bit late if I change into my uniform ahead of time, but I also didn’t feel comfortable undressing in front of the other girls.

I manage to find the main locker room okay, just around the corner from the hallway that the cheer team’s change room opens onto. There’s a bunch of people inside, however (I think swim practice just let out), so instead I use the empty restroom right next door, the wheelchair-friendly one. It’s surprisingly big, with four individual stall units complete with toilets and private sinks.

As I change, I hear the main door open and shut, then the sound of staggering footsteps. Someone giggles quietly, and I go instantly on alert. I’ve had too many experiences with being pranked in the bathroom not to.

But then, I hear a soft moan, then a baritone murmur of, “Shh, someone might hear us.”

I blush, realising what’s happening: someone’s trying to use the private stalls of this restroom to hook up.

Another giggle, before: “I’m not on the cheer team, silly, so it doesn’t matter for me.”

I realise with a start that the voice belongs to Lily.

“Oh, sorry,” says the male voice at a more normal volume. “Force of habit,” he adds.

It’s Emeric, I’m sure of it.

The two of them kiss and stumble into the stall across from me, and I rush to finish changing. The whole time, I can’t help but imagine what the two of them might look like together: Emeric’s strong hands in Lily’s perfect auburn waves, his broad chest crowding her against the wall. The thought makes me feel sick.

I shake my head to clear it. It’s dumb, this fixation on him. I remember him on Tuesday night, surrounded by cheerleaders, flirting with them indiscriminately even as Tori seethed in the background. He didn’t kiss anyone that night—he didn’t even look like he enjoyed the attention, more like he was just resigned to it, like his flirting was just his normal way of talking.

For a while, I almost convinced myself that everyone else might just be mistaken. Sure, Emeric gets a lot of attention from girls, but he’s not really a player, is he? He barely even seemed interested in them!

But now… From the looks of it, he was with Claire until recently, then randomly kissed me—who was at the time a complete stranger—on Friday at the parade, but he also dated Tori just last weekend, and now he’s making out with Lily in the bathroom?

Part of me wants to storm out and interrupt them, but it makes no sense. Why should I care that they’re doing this? It’s not even against their rules! Emily said that the no-dating policy for the football players only applied to serious relationships, and obviously this isn’t it. And why should I care if Lily is willing to fool around with any football player who looks her way?

Just as I’m about to return to changing, a sudden song starts up, filling the restroom with an obnoxious blare. Before I can make out the lyrics, there’s a sudden thump.

“What the fuck?” Lily says, outraged.

Emeric doesn’t answer her, but the song cuts off. “Stop changing your ringtone,” he says, presumably to whoever just called him.

“Are you really going to just answer that right now?” Lily demands in complete disregard of the phone call.

There’s a pause, then a, “No,” but it’s not in response to Lily. “Do what you want, Bas,” Emeric continues angrily, “but leave me—”

The next bit is obscured by Lily trying and failing to yell at Emeric, which ends with her opening the stall door and storming away.

“—already rejected us! Only a dumb mutt like you would crawl to her to beg for—what? Yeah, the human left. Wait, were you trying to—you son of a—” Emeric cusses out whoever he’s talking to, eventually switching to a foreign language to continue a hostile-sounding exchange in a foreign language—not Spanish, but similar. French, maybe? Or Italian?

Instead of paying more attention than I have to, I quietly finish changing and slip out of the restroom before he hangs up his call.

By the time I see Lily in the cheer team change room (since apparently Grace and Amy have plans with her and another group of girls to go clubbing downtown tonight), I’ve already forgiven her for trying to hook up with an asshole like Emeric.

﹒﹒﹒

“Hey, table eighteen wants you,” Carson tells me.

I frown at him, assuming that he got me mixed up with Selena again. “That’s in your section, and I haven’t completed any requests outside my section tonight.”

“What? Oh, no, not for any problems with their orders; they only just arrived. I think they might know you? They asked for you by name. There’s six of them, so I’ll swap you for the next two groups that arrive?”

I glance nervously over at our boss. “I don’t think April would like that.”

“I already cleared it with her.”

With that excuse closed off, I can only accept. Adjusting my blouse and apron, I make my way towards table eighteen.

“See? I told you it’d be her,” Amy said to Tori. They’re here with Alexandra and three guys, one of whom I recognise from the football team—Sam, maybe? Or was it Seth?

I smile politely, then give them the welcome speech.

Amy starts chatting with me as Alexandra and Tori deliberate over drink choices. “Lily never mentioned you work here! Her and Grace are still at the Maze, by the way.”

I nod like I know exactly where the Maze is. “I don’t think I ever told her about working part time. I mostly just take half-shifts here and there as needed on school nights, but I come in for the whole evening on most Saturdays and Sundays.”

“But this place closes at like one in the morning on the weekends,” one of the boys says—the redhead. “Wouldn’t that mess with your sleep schedule for classes?”

Tori glances up with a knowing smile. “I bet it’s for the tips. Evenings tip better, right?”

What would someone who comes into The Caspian for a casual Friday night dinner know about tips? I wonder to myself, more than slightly spiteful. As much as Tori’s attitude grates on me, however, I do my best to stay civil. I give a noncommittal shrug and say, “It’s actually because I need to schedule around my volunteer work at the Avonbridge HSUS.”

“Wait,” says the boy wearing glasses, tapping his finger on the table, “you’re that Cecilia, aren’t you? From Wimborne Prep? My cousin—Marissa—graduated from there last year. Maybe you know her?”

I straighten, forcing my smile to stay on my face. “It was a big school,” I say. “I don’t think we ran in the same circles.”

Thankfully, the boy didn’t press any further, and I excuse myself once they finish giving their drink orders. My mood is soured, however, especially when I see the boy whispering to his friends when I return with their drinks, because I lied about Marissa—I know her very well.

She was one of my almost-friends back in junior year of high school, but then something happened, and she broke my arm. We didn’t talk much after that, and I made sure to never get that close to anyone ever again.

Marissa is probably the only person in this world, other than maybe my former guardian, who might know for sure how strange I am. I’d hoped that she never told anyone, but seeing the way that boy with the glasses is talking, I’m starting to suspect otherwise.

The table treats me a bit differently—not with hostility or suspicion, but with more care and less casual friendliness—for the rest of their stay, which ends less than half an hour before closing. They tip well, however, especially for college students, so I try to push the incident out of my mind as I finish up my shift.

It’s well past two in the morning by the time I change out of my work uniform and set out in search of my boss. I almost give up when I find her small office dark and empty, but I eventually follow the sound of muffled voices to find her having a stern conversation with a new dishwasher. She waves him away with obvious frustration as I approach, turning to smile tightly at me.

“Did you need something, Cecilia?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I might need to start taking fewer shifts soon. I’m okay for Tuesday and next weekend, but after that I’ll probably only be able to work one or two shifts a week.”

She scowls, and I wince. “It’s La Lune Bleue, isn’t it. I’m going to flay Sebas—”

“No,” I quickly say, “it’s not that.” I search quickly for a believable lie. “It’s my grades. Sophomore year is getting difficult, and I’ve got a big paper coming up. If I don’t do well on this, my scholarship is gonna—”

April waves my excuses away. “As long as it’s not him, I don’t care. It’s only for this next little while, you say?”

I wince again. “I hope so,” I lie.

She nods tiredly and waves me off after telling me to send her an email reminder of this conversation.

It’s chilly out, and I regret not bringing a jacket. What should be a nearly-full moon is hidden behind orange-tinged clouds. This town isn’t very big, but it’s on the edge of a much larger city, so light pollution is unavoidable even near the edges of the forest.

I can’t help but miss some of the foster homes I’d stayed at when I was younger. Some of them had been rural, and I loved taking nighttime walks lit by little else but moonlight.

“Cecilia, right?” someone asks, interrupting my reverie.

I startle, flinching back from the voice. Everything with me is suddenly on alert. It feels almost like when I’d first met Emeric, staring into the depths of his eyes, but this is much sharper of a reaction.

I take several rapid steps back, but the man who called my name follows until his face is illuminated by a streetlamp—it’s the redhead who’d been with the cheerleaders.

I forcibly calm myself down, pasting a smile onto my face. “Sorry,” I say. “You startled me.”

He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I just wanted to ask if you needed a ride. I had some errands to run in this area, and I saw you coming out of The Caspian all alone. Were you planning to take the night bus?”

I nod, still wary.

“Whereabouts do you live?” He jerks his head over to a nearby car, a modern-looking thing that’s all slick paint and liquid curves. “Come on.”

I open and close my mouth. This is very different from what happened with Emeric. With him, I’d felt like prey captured between the jaws of a very large predator, beyond both reason and escape. Right now, every single one of my senses are telling me to run, run, run.

In the end, I just shake my head. “It’s alright. I live very out of the way, and I’ve left my bike at the bus stop.”

“I can pick it up on our way to your home.” The redhead takes another step towards me.

I take another step back.

He continues advancing and I continue retreating, glancing anxiously around for an idea of how to escape. I should just run, but I don’t want to go to my bus stop, or he might figure out from the bus route the area where I live. There are people around, but most are drunk and paying very little attention to me.

“Please,” I say, “I can take care of myself just fine.”

He doesn’t even respond this time, just steps forward, lightning quick, and reaches out for my arm.

I try to turn and run, but my toe jams against a crack in the sidewalk and I pitch over off of the curb.

The guy rushes to my side, muttering under his breath, “If you’re a normie, then I’m—”

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 There’s a screech, and a motorcycle comes to a rumbling stop half a foot away from where I fell. The rider hops off and wrenches the guy off me.

“Hey, man, what the fuck? I was just trying to help—”

“What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything! She just—”

“He pushed me!” I blurted, pushing myself up from the ground. I take stock of my injuries. Sprained ankle, skinned knee, skinned palm—oh. Oh no.

There were two shards of glass jammed a good quarter-inch into the meat of my hand.

I try to discreetly dig them out as the biker—whose voice sounds eerily familiar—continues questioning the redhead who’d been trying to get me into his car.

“The lady says you pushed her.”

“What? No, I was just trying to—”

“If you don’t leave in the next five seconds, you’ll have to crawl away, understood? Five. Four. Three—”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I’m going.”

By the time the redhead backs off, I’ve managed to deal with my injuries enough to try to stand. The biker rushes to my side, helping me up.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I swallow, glaring at the redhead as he gets into his car and drives off. “Better now that he’s gone.”

The biker sniffs sharply. “No,” he says, reaching for my hand. “No, you’re injured. Let me—”

I pull away and look up into his eyes. “No,” I say, “it’s fine. I just—” I cut off, because it’s at this moment that I realise that I’m looking into Emeric’s blue-grey eyes.

Emeric has saved me, again.