Boys & Things

“What are you talking about?” I ask her, sitting up. Kelly walks into my room just like she used to, her face set with determination just like it always used to be. For a moment, the nostalgia paralyzes me. But then I see that she’s wearing my dad’s old football jersey and the nostalgia is replaced with something closer to nausea. She sits down at my desk and boots my laptop. While it loads, she swivels in the chair. I get up off my floor and go stand behind her. “Are you going to say anything or did you just want to get your backstabbing cooties all over my stuff?”

Kelly glares at me. “You don’t get to be mad at me anymore, EJ,” she tells me.

“Like hell I don’t.”

“You’re going to need me after this,” she says. She sounds confident and sure, like this thing, whatever it is, is so horrible that there’s no way I can go on without her. But she’s wrong. I’ve been through hell already and I miss my brother more than words can say. I’m going through that without her. I can surely handle whatever petty drama she’s raving about.

Her fingers clack against the keyboard. She could always type way faster than I ever could. I prefer to peck while she uses that home row shit. Within seconds, thanks to my super-internet and her speedy typing, she’s logged on to Facebook. My Facebook, to be exact. I make a note to change my laptop password and all my other passwords. A word to the wise: never give out your passwords. You never know when you’re best friend is going to sleep with your dad.

Kelly moves back and motions towards the screen. I lean in close. “Holy shit,” I whisper.

My wall is covered in multiple posts that all claim that I’m some gay dog lover. And not the type of dog lover you should be proud of. There’s dozens of articles that people have sent me links to all saying how gross beastiality is. A few people even said they were going to come and take Henry so that he won’t have to suffer from some sick fetish. I scroll up and it gets even worse. Girls I’ve never even talked to are calling me slut and whore and cunt and every sort of bad name they could come up with.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask Kelly.

“Keep scrolling,” she says. I go up a little farther and there’s a post on my wall from Tate Armstrong. It’s in the middle of my hate. I lean even closer to make sure that my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

Everyone needs to lay off. Everything you guys are saying is bullshit. EJ is my girlfriend. She doesn’t make people gay and she doesn’t have animal fetishes. Anyone who wants to start shit with my girlfriend can answer to me.

“That mother fu—”

“EJ!” Kelly scolds. I take my phone and check my messages. There’s a bunch from numbers I don’t know. I look back at my computer screen and see that someone has posted my number for everyone to see. Call for a gay time. There’s a bunch of comments. One says hide yo’ dogs, hide yo’ gays. That one has a lot of likes. I go back to Tate’s post. There’s no likes but a few dozen comments all saying dislike in capital letters with lots of exclamation points. There’s more names. I press my lips together because Tate has no right. No right at all.

I slam my laptop close and stalk out of my room determined to hunt Tate down and beat him to death. Throw him in front of a bus. Lay his body on the train tracks. And then burn him to ashes. And when he’s good and buried, I’ll dance on top of his grave.

In the living room, Dad is watching TV. He mutes it when he sees me stomp out in a visible rage, Kelly close on my heels. “Oh, EJ, not this again,” he says. “When are you going to accept our relationship?”

“Shut up, Dad,” I snap. “I don’t even want to get in to how disgusting it is that you two are doing the horizontal tango. This isn’t about you for once so just stay the fuck out of it.” Dad blinks at me, surprised, but I don’t care. I’m livid. How low do you have to be to start rumors like that? If it was anyone else, they’d already have killed themselves by now. But this is me and I’d rather have revenge than take it out on myself. I guess that puts me in the same category as them but I don’t start shit. I just finish it. There’s a difference.

I open my front door and go outside. My foot slides around in something gooey. It looks like a broken egg. I bend down and stick my finger in it determining that yes, it is a broken egg. I sigh and look around but the eggs that leave streaks of shimmery chicken fetus are the only damage. I step outside farther and wipe my fingers off on my pants.

Standing in his yard, looking pissed beyond belief, is Cooper. He sees me and he walks over. I wait for him to scream at me but instead he grabs my shoulders and says, “Are you okay?” His brown eyes are warm and concerned, sort of like Frank’s but in the attractive boy way not the adorable puppy dog way.

I blink at him. “Uh, what?” I say dumbly.

“Are you okay?” Cooper genuinely looks concerned. “I saw someone drive up and egg your house a few minutes ago.” I wonder how I didn’t notice the sound. How nobody noticed the sound of hate being thrown at my house. I must have been too consumed with Kelly and with Facebook to notice that people weren’t just leaving mean things on my internet wall, they were leaving mean things on my real life wall, too. I push my hair back with hand and exhale. This isn’t because of the dog thing. It’s because of the Tate thing.

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Did you see who it was?”

Cooper shakes his head. His blonde hair looks gold in the slanted sunlight. “No, but it was a blue Prius. Definitely a girl driving it but no one I recognized.” This only confirms my suspicion that it’s Tate’s doing. I look at my house. He’s going to clean every inch of the egg off. With his tongue. None of this would have happened if Tate didn’t just keep out of my business. Rumors I can deal with. But this is going above and beyond. Those girls are acting as though Tate is their property and I’m the trespasser that needs to get shot.

Then Cooper does something totally random that stuns me more than the egging. He hugs me. While his mouth is next to my ear, he says, “I know you watch me play solitaire. It doesn’t bother me.” Then he pulls away, smiles, and goes back to his house leaving me completely speechless.

Kelly comes up beside me. “No,” she says. “No. If you start seeing Cooper then we aren’t going to be friends again.”

I shake off the weirdness of what just happened and look at her like she’s crazy. “We aren’t going to be friends again, Kelly,” I say.

She blinks at me. “What do you mean? You need me. Look at everything that’s happening! You need a friend, EJ, to be with you while you get churned through the rumor mill.” She reaches for my arm but I pull it away.

“You’re sleeping with my dad. There’s no way that I’m going to ever be your friend again. Ever.”

“But…”

“And I don’t need a friend.” I take a big breath. “I have a boyfriend.” And now I have to go kill said boyfriend, but I don’t say that part out loud. I just revel in Kelly’s dumbstruck look. Who cares if it’s a lie? Who cares if I’d rather see Tate’s head on a stick than date him? Kelly is no longer my friend. She doesn’t get a say anymore, she doesn’t get to know the secrets of my life. I smile at her and walk down my driveway.

I’m halfway to the street when Kelly yells, “You’re going to regret your decision, EJ Black! Tate Armstrong will break your heart just like he does to everyone else!” I don’t turn around to tell her that Tate can’t break my heart since it’s not even full. It hasn’t been full in a long, long time. Not since before Colin started running away. Not since before mom died. I don’t turn around to even let her know that I heard her. I’m a girl on a mission.

And that mission? Kill Tate Armstrong.