Pandora
“Indie movie night, next Thursday evening at eight,” I repeat, to make sure I’ve got the info right.
Carly peers over my shoulder as I type the event into my calendar. “It’s over at the Geller building. They’ve got a screening space.”
I stop in the middle of the tunnels to read the nearby sign, which says the Geller building is in the direction we just came from.
I’ve figured out how to get from my dorms to my classes and the caf, but anywhere else? I’m going to need a map.
“Who else is going?” I ask. “You invited Samantha, right?”
Carly nods. “Of course I did. Although, I haven’t seen her much lately. Is she doing okay?”
Is she doing okay?
How am I supposed to know? I have no idea what okay even means.
Case in point, I can hear mocking whispers in the tunnels, and not about Keegan.
A few days in, and the entire school is still talking about it. I’m over the moon with how well that went off.
So why the fuck am I hearing whispers? Why was I getting the impression that there were eyes in my dorm room? Why do I think monsters have been scratching at my walls?
Something to worry about later.
Carly frowns and stares down one side tunnel. “Isn’t that…?”
I follow her gaze, then quickly jump to the side before Samantha can barrel straight into me.
“Whoa! What’s the rush?” I ask, grabbing Samantha by the arm.
She yelps when I touch her, her eyes going wide and darting in my direction. There’s briefly sheer animal fear in them before she recognizes me and relaxes slightly. “Don’t grab me like that,” she hisses, trying to jerk her arm away from me.
I hold on to her. If she wants to use some of the martial arts moves I’ve shown her to dislodge me, she’s welcome to try.
But when I look closer, I notice that her eyes are red.
My grip tightens as anger rushes through me.
“What happened?” I demand.
“Nothing! Let go of me,” she snaps. “Carly, tell her to let go.”
Carly purses her lips and puts her hand on my wrist. “Let up a bit, Pandora? But you should talk to us, Samantha.”
I do not let up, because I’m pretty sure the moment I let go, Samantha is going to rush off.
“It’s nothing,” Samantha insists. She twists her arm in one of the ways I’d shown her, trying to break free of my grasp, but I anticipated it and move with her to keep her from succeeding. “It’s just people being stupid.”
“People being stupid is my specialty,” I say with a wide grin. I tug on Samantha’s arm to pull her closer to me. “Tell your besties all about it, and we can soothe the hurt and-or help you get back at them.”
Carly immediately shakes her head. “We aren’t getting back at anyone, Pandora.”
“No, we are not,” Samantha says. “It wasn’t anything worth talking about.” She wants to tell me, though. I can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to tell someone.
Maybe she really isn’t doing okay.
“Okay. Carly and I were on our way to the coffee shop. Let’s get coffee and you can tell your bitch bestie and your nice bestie all your woes.” I start dragging Samantha down the tunnels toward the coffee shop.
“You aren’t the…” Carly says, hurrying to keep up with us. “Seriously, Pandora, don’t talk about yourself like that.”
I laugh, even as warmth spreads in my chest. “I meant I was the nice one, Carly.”
Samantha lets me pull her along, even though she’s obviously unhappy about it.
Too bad. She needs to talk about these things.
Samantha is quiet as we walk, but another glance at her face shows that her eyes are still red. Something made her cry.
Someone made her cry.
It’s thankfully the right time of day for there to be free tables at the coffee shop, and I practically shove Samantha into a seat in the back corner.
“Grab coffees for all of us, please,” I ask Carly.
She sighs, but she obediently goes to the screens to put in our order.
Once she’s gone, I sit down next to Samantha and crowd her. “Okay, spill. What happened?” I ask in a low voice.
She shakes her head, but she must realize that I’m not going to let it go until she tells me. “People are just saying things,” she mumbles. “People I thought were friends.”
Don’t I know that feeling.
Anger is heating up my blood. It’s a nice sensation, honestly. I need to be angry more.
Especially on other people’s behalf. It’s better than being angry for myself.
“Which people?” I ask. “What did they say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. She’s trying to evade my questions, but I’m far more stubborn than she is. I watch her, and she finally sighs and says, “Just someone from church.”
“I see, I see.” I rest my chin on my hand to observe her. She did end up going to the church near the townhouse, the one that claimed to be inclusive and welcoming, over the holiday. When she’d returned, she’d seemed to feel better.
I don’t think the church group here at Dyschord is anything like that one.
“Is it the same assholes who were calling you a slut for… all the things?” I still remember the derision they’d shown when I’d tried to figure out where Samantha was.
Didn’t she run off with Zayden? Spreading her legs for him like a common—
Of course, they hadn’t had nice things to say about me either. Somehow, even they had seen the videos being passed around.
I should have stabbed them and really given them a reason to hate me.
Samantha fiddles with the cross necklace she always wears, smoothing her fingers over the metal. “If I answer that, you’re going to try to insist on getting back at them for it,” she tells me. “And I don’t want that, Pandora. I just want to be left alone.”
Carly comes back then with the tray of drinks.
“Don’t do anything excessive, Pandora,” Carly warns, even though she wasn’t here for most of the conversation.
I take my drink and sip it slowly. It’s a nice sweet coffee drink that’s probably more sugar than coffee.
“I’ve never done anything excessive in my life,” I state. “But sometimes people get what they deserve.”
Carly bites her lip. She must know that I was the one to send out the Keegan videos, but she hasn’t said anything about it.
Samantha had sat in our kitchen and watched the video over and over that evening, to the point where I started getting sick of the song.
“They haven’t done anything that bad,” she says after a moment. “It’s only words. If I was stronger, it wouldn’t even bother me.”
“That’s not how it works,” Carly answers gently. “Words can sometimes be worse.” She glances down at her coffee. “My dad… I mean, he never beat me. He was worse with Reese.”
Reese—she means Reaper, her brother. He’d sent me a text with a laughing emoji right after I’d sent out the vid of Keegan, so I assume he approved.
“But it was never the fists that made either of us cry. It was the words.” Carly shakes her head. “I don’t even think it was that bad? I mean, I didn’t think it was, but I’ve been talking to a counselor, and she wanted to cry when I told her, so I don’t know.”
Fuck. Now I want to murder her father.
Reaper would probably be on board. I need to figure out who their dad is and if there would be any major repercussions, but I’m sure I could swing it.
There are so many people on my hit-list right now.
Shit-list.
No, wait, I did mean hit-list.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha tells Carly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “My brother was always the golden child. I was the one who had to work harder, do better, get more done. Be more devout.” Her smile twists into something ugly, only briefly. “Never mind.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say. “Obviously I don’t know what it’s like, but I can say that it sucks. You shouldn’t have to be more anything.”
“He’s a man,” Samantha says, shrugging. “They just get away with more. That’s how it is.”
“Nope!” I resist the urge to raise my voice.
It’s a near thing. “Men aren’t inherently more prone to assholery than women.
If they’re dicks, we need to take them to task.
” I scoot closer to her. “Carly and I are here for you, Samantha. You don’t deserve to be trampled over or made to feel like shit. ”
Samantha sighs. “Yeah.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, how did your holidays go, Carly?” she asks.
Carly freezes up, then lets out an awkward laugh. “Oh. Uh, Reese and I drove home. I spent the days with my mom, he was with his mom and our dad. Dad did want to see me for a few hours. I guess it was fine? He gave me a dress for Christmas. But it was the wrong style. Also the wrong size.”
That sounds like a much worse gift than a gun and the crippling fear that I’m losing my mind.
Not actually crippling. A mild discomfort.
And I’m over it by now.
Samantha seems to realize she misstepped. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice soft. “You just said… and I…” She looks away from us. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Carly says just as softly.
“Next year, you should join the Pavone Family Christmas!” I declare. “There’s plenty of space in the house, and Mama will be delighted to know I have friends who understand emotional regulation.” I pat Samantha on the back. “Tell her how great my family is.”
She gives me a look, but then she offers a tentative smile. “It was chaotic, but it was nice. Everyone was very nice to me. I appreciate you taking me there, but I really would’ve been fine on campus by myself.”
By herself, where the Bouchard goonies might have cornered her? Yeah, right. I know Blaze said he’s positive his dad won’t make a move on her, but I’m not going to count on that.
Also, I’m pretty sure she would have been sad and depressed all on her own.
Speaking of.
“So, now that you’re in a somewhat better mood…” I lean closer to her. “Spill. Who was being nasty to you?”
Samantha sighs. “Her name is Katarina. She’s nobody, though. Just someone being cruel for the sake of being cruel.”
“Samantha!” Carly hisses, glancing in my direction.
Too late.
“Katarina.” I pull out my phone so I can go to the student roster. “She’s in your church group? What did she say?”
Samantha seems to realize her mistake, because she backpedals. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “Pandora, it was not that big of a deal. Just a few words. I’ve heard worse.” Her lips purse. “I’ve said worse.”