The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot
NINE
“Fuck her!” My voice echoes in the empty alley, bouncing off the brick and punching me in the gut. I bare my teeth and hurl the trash bag inside the bin, kicking the metal dumpster as the lid falls. “Fuck. Her!”
It’s been incredibly slow at the smoothie shop, leaving me too much time to think about last night. To think about Lily’s arched back, open mouth, completely lost in pleasure. Her body moved to a tempo only she could hear, but fuck me if I didn’t try to find it. She had me on a leash, forcing me to watch all the things I wanted to do to her myself.
I couldn’t stop staring. As much as I wanted to claw my fucking eyeballs out, I couldn’t stop. It felt like I was a passenger in my own body, banging against the door, trying to get out, but no matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t look away.
In retrospect, I bet that was her exact intention—make me pay for leaving our staring contest at the game. But really, what did she expect after what she’d done?
Handcuffing me to a bed, making me out to be some perverted sicko.
Even now, her end game is unclear. This new Lily is uncharted territory, and I’m at a loss of how to navigate around her. The only apparent thing is that she wants my attention and sealed lips.
She wants control.
Something neither of us had as kids. Something I damn sure still don’t have.
Whatever her fucked-up reason, I’m done being a pawn in this dumb ass game of hers. My hand twitches at my side, eager to text William and tell him to pay me a visit. It would be so easy to revert back to the Spencer that got everything he wanted with just a smile. Then I could show Lily how the game is really played.
Hold fast, hold steady.
My mother’s soft voice appears from nowhere, settling into my raging blood, cooling it instantly. It’s a gentle reminder that getting caught up in this game will just cost more of my time. And that’s something I don’t have.
Lily will soon get bored, just like most juvenile bullies, and things will go back to normal. I only need to wait it out.
I trudge back inside to Remy. Only about an hour left, and I can go home, crawl in bed, and pretend like that shit didn’t happen. Well, I can try, at least, while staying as far away from my window as possible. Maybe see if my mom is down to watch a movie.
Remy leans against the opposite side of the counter, tracing a line in her book as she reads. I’ve thought about telling her what happened, but she’d more than likely give me an earful I don’t need. Tell me it’s my fault for even letting her fool me—that I should have known better, which I should have.
Irritation swirls in my sternum, and I scrub my hands over my face, huffing through my nose. I take off my glasses for the third time to clean them. The cooling effect of my mother’s mantra wears off as images of Lily flit through my head.
Every muscle I have tightens, knotting up as I replay Lily’s orgasm. She was biting into her bottom lip as if it felt good, but her eyebrows were pinched as if she was in pain. Like something was ripping her in two. I held my breath with her, watching her unravel at the seams. She was so fucking beautiful in that moment. And as much as I hate to admit it, I was starving, and I enjoyed eating up everything she gave me. Even craved more after the fact.
I loathe how she can make me want her.
Fuck. Her.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose, repeating my new motto. When I peer down my nose at Remy, I realize she’s still tracing the same line. Like she’s reading it, but her mind is somewhere else entirely, forcing her to reread it. “You good over there?”
I’m hopeful she can occupy my thoughts for the rest of our shift. Hell, I’ll even listen to her drone on about her romance story if I have to—anything to feel something other than the conflict curling in my blood.
“Let’s go to the Halloween party this weekend.”
“What?” My face contorts. “Since when do you want to go out?”
I’ve only known Remy the past few months, but sharing the majority of our classes, as well as working with each other, has given me a pretty good look at her habits. She’s an introvert through and through. A good girl, wrapped in a book, cuddled on the couch night after night. She prefers the fictional characters to her classmates and daydreams about them more than she’ll admit.
Her face blooms pink, and she twists a loose hair back into her low ponytail. “I just want to enjoy senior year a little bit. Is that such a crime, Spencer?”
I scoff, misplaced frustration seeping from my pores before I can stop it. “It is when you’re doing it for someone else and not yourself. Be real, Remy. Who’s the guy? Are they worth losing yourself over?” Because no one is worth losing who you are.
Stop.
She opens and clamps her mouth shut twice, her eyebrows knitting together so tight they almost touch. “Okay, you inept jerk. I’m not changing for anybody. I just want to have some fun. What crawled up your butt and died?”
I can’t stop the irritation from boiling over in my stomach. Why does everyone feel the need to change? And not only that, but lie about it, when it can’t be any more obvious?
“Remy, I’ve known you long enough and seen the shit in your closet to know better than to believe the lie you’re pushing. What’s next? Dye your hair blonde? Start wearing heels to school?”
You’re being a fucking asshole. Stop.
But I can’t. The words ooze from my mouth like a toxin, ready to claim any victim in the vicinity. Then I remember a brief moment at school when Blaze said something to her as he passed by. I didn’t think enough of it to ask, but now, things are making more sense. “Let me guess. Blaze? Is that who it is?”
Her sad eyes widen, confirming my accusation and a wave of anger I’ve never felt before surges through, consuming me in its power. Blaze. He’s Lily’s right hand—has been since eighth grade, I hear. He’s probably the reason Lily is the way she is. And now he wants to take Remy away too?
Fuck that.
“He doesn’t like you. Whatever shit he’s spitting, it’s because he wants to dive in your pussy and claim another notch on his belt. Not because he actually wants something with you. Are you really that stupid?”
Remy’s eyes shine under a wall of tears, and I immediately deflate. She rips the apron off her waist and throws it at me, twisting on her heels. “Close up by yourself tonight. And when you’re ready to apologize for projecting your anger, you know where to find me.”
I stumble around the corner, her name caught in my throat. A panic ensues, trapping me from saying what I need to.
Fuck.
I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.
Don’t leave me too.
The door slams behind her, halting my pursuit, leaving me with the void of her absence. It wraps around me, whispering just what I am.
A fucking dick.
I HAVE to ring the bell twice with my foot before I hear a rustling behind the door. Steadying the pile of books in my arms, I peer to the side when Remy opens it. It’s noon on a Sunday, but from the looks of it, I woke her up. Her dark hair is in disarray, matted to one side and flat on the other. Bags highlight both eyes she is currently rubbing, adjusting to the outside light.
Pajamas hang loosely on her tiny frame, and I breathe easy for the first time since last night before our fight.
There’s my Remy.
She finally takes in the massive pile I’m balancing and gasps. “You bought everything on my to-be-read list? That’s like two dozen books!”
“Twenty-eight,” I correct.
“Oh, my gosh, Spencer. I would have accepted just a verbal apology.”
I twist my hips, pretending I’m going to walk off. “So you don’t want them?”
Her hands jerk out, grabbing half the stack before I even have a chance to move a muscle. “I didn’t say that. Come in.”
A smile takes up my entire face, relief washing over me.
Trailing behind her, I notice the house is darker than usual. The entryway curtains are drawn, drowning the bright foyer in shadows. The open kitchen and living room are the same.
She reads my face and juts her chin out toward the back of the living room. “My dad’s home. Don’t worry. He can sleep through a freight train, but not light.”
I nod, and follow her up the stairs, still consciously making an effort to keep my steps quiet. We enter her pink room, and she immediately starts sorting the books on her bed, humming to herself as she reads the backs. She bounces on her heels, and for a second, I wish I could pilfer some of that happiness. Bottle it up and take it with me.
“Not going to brush your teeth first?” I joke, falling into my usual place on the bubblegum futon.
Remy turns, narrowing her eyes. Lifting my hands in surrender, I chuckle. I’m just glad she’s receptive. I lean forward on my knees, tilting my head, and leveling my voice. “I really am sorry about last night.”
She rotates back to her book, grabbing a few and placing them on the shelf. “I know. And whenever you’re ready to tell me what happened—what really happened, I’m here.”
I sigh, nodding as I rest my head back, relaxing for the first time in what feels like forever.
Remy finishes sorting a few minutes later and goes to grab us popcorn. She puts on Sleepy Hollow and curls up next to me, a happy glow radiating from her body. Little does she know it, but in the few months since I’ve met her, she’s saved me.
It wouldn’t hurt to return the favor. “So this Halloween party. You really wanna go?”
She nods, hugging a pillow to her chest. Her eyes peer up at me from her long lashes, and she smiles.
“Are you going to dress, you know slu—” The pillow she was holding connects with my face. “Alright, alright, we’ll go.”
She giggles, snatching the pillow and falling back into it. “I mean, even though you basically have to at this point, thank you, Spencer.”
I grin, leaning into the futon. Even though my entire life is upside down, and danger literally lives in my backyard, I’m content. I feel at peace. I just hope it carries over tomorrow.
THE NEXT DAY, Lily doesn’t show up to class, even though, according to Remy, she was at school.
It doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s the perfect break. I’m not sure I’d be able to be in the same room with her after all the shit that’s happened over the past few weeks.
But when she doesn’t come the next day, annoyance pricks at my skin. I know I can do the project on my own; hell, I prefer it. But it’s inconsiderate of her, especially since she supposedly needs the grade.
Wednesday comes and passes, and still, she doesn’t come. I find myself getting irritable at the slightest inconvenience. Why am I letting her get under my skin? It shouldn’t even matter.
This is ridiculous.It’s Thursday, and I’m damn near done with the research part. I have a lot of things to draw out and label, but I need to start collecting data. Tomorrow I meet with the head custodian after school, and after that, I have to start the actual experiment.
I guess I may have to ask Remy after all.
Friday. Five days. It makes sense now. She’s pulling the same shit I did last week. How fucking childish. Even so, I find it in me to tamper down the anger brewing under my skin and make it through the day. She can’t not come forever after all.
When the dismissal bell rings, the campus clears out pretty fast. I assume everyone left to get ready for the game tonight or pregame. Maybe both. That is one part of Idaho I miss. William and I, drunk, out in a field with a flock of other people. There was no light pollution, so the stars scattered across the black sky were incredibly bright. We didn’t have a care in the world.
In those rare moments, I didn’t have to think. I could just surrender to the intoxicating bliss and beauty of the world. And for two seconds, it didn’t feel like it was out to crush me.
I pass by an open window on my way to the second floor. The field is full of football players running drills and the band marking seats. I avert my eyes when I see the cheerleaders emerging from the locker room. No point in making my day worse by accidentally seeing her.
After walking all the way to the back, near the access elevator, I find the custodial manager’s office and knock on the door. After a few moments, an older woman opens it. Her chestnut hair lays back in a tight bun, and though her amber eyes are sunken slightly, they have a familiarity I place in a matter of seconds.
“Mrs. Conley?”
I remember meeting her once, by pure accident. It was sixth-grade summer, a couple of years after her dad bolted, and we basically lived in the treehouse when I came to visit. We had run out of popcorn, and I went back inside to get some. I almost pissed myself when I saw her poking around the pantry because I thought someone had broken into the kitchen, until she turned around, a warm smile on her face. She introduced herself, and we briefly talked while I waited on the microwave to finish our snack. The last thing I recall was how sad I was walking back outside. How I had just talked to Lily’s mom longer than Lily probably had her whole life. Even worse was she was really fucking nice.
“Spencer! Look at you! Oh, dios mío, look at how much you’ve grown.” Lily’s mother swings her brittle arms around my neck, and I haphazardly hug her back, surprised she even remembers me. “Mi hija didn’t tell me you were back.”
That statement confused me. Why would she? Not because Lily and I are estranged, but because Lily never talked to her mom. Then it hits me. I bet the woman doesn’t even realize I know that. It strikes a feeling of pity for Lily that I quickly blow out. Fuck her.
Releasing her, I run a hand through my hair, and stop to massage the base of my neck. I shift on my feet not sure what to say, and instead ask what I’m really curious about. “I didn’t know you worked here. I would have come and said hi before.”
She waves a brittle hand around. “Honestly, querido, I try to keep it a secret just as much as Liliana. Only working while the kids are gone, staying to myself. This life,” she pauses, and I’m surprised by her forwardness. She shakes her head as if recollecting her thoughts, a brown tendril falling from her bun. Looking at her now, it’s crazy how much she looks like the Liliana I knew…
“Anyway, you wanted to see me about a room?”
