Page 26 of Electricity

W hen I got to Lacey’s place I circled around the back and texted her, giving her thirty seconds before I lightly rapped on the screen.

Her blinds rose and I could see her there as she opened the window, haloed by her bedroom’s light, and we stared at each other through the screen.

“Can I come in or what?”

We’d discovered the malleability of screens years ago, how easy both of ours were to shimmy out with screwdrivers, butterknives, nail files.

“Yeah,” she said, and I tried not to hear the reluctance in her voice, as she popped the bottom corner out.

I took it, unhinged the rest, and pulled it out, placing it carefully beside the window so I could replace it later. Her trailer was three feet off the ground, so this next part was the hardest. I tossed my backpack in first, then asked, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

I backed up a little bit and then flung myself at her window, using my arms and kicking off the exterior wall itself to yank myself up high enough for her to grab me and haul me in.

She lassoed her arms beneath my armpits and pulled and we fell in together, in a tumble of limbs.

Once upon time this part was the best part, when we lay on the ground together like shots were being fired, holding back giggles, making sure we hadn’t been louder than Ms. Harper’s CPAP machine, until we were sure we’d succeeded, flush with pulling one over on an Adult.

This time though, we were both counting our own heartbeats, touching but still, as white Persian kittens sitting on white clouds beamed down from posters overhead.

Eventually Lacey said, “We’re safe.”

“Cool.” We untangled ourselves, and I tried to find some non-crotch flashing way to sit on Lacey’s floor while she looked critically at me.

“That’s your studying outfit?”

“My mom dressed me.”

“She dress you for all your dates?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jessie?” She leaned across the floor. “Do you know how stupid what you just did was?”

“His parents were home, I knew I’d be safe.”

“You studied…at his house? With him?”

I gave up on modesty and fell back, my back against her bed. “Yeah. Lacey—trust me—I knew I’d be fine.” If I’d gotten Darius to believe I had electric powers, how much harder could it be to convince her?

“While you were there—did he use his phone?”

“What?”

“Did he?” she whispered louder.

I shook my head quickly. “No. Not that I saw. I kept an eye on him the whole night. I made sure I knew where his hands were, at all times.”

I hadn’t seen her since yesterday, but even in that short gap, something had changed. She wasn’t just sad anymore—her eyes—she looked terrified. I lowered my voice. “What happened?”

“This,” she said, pulling out her phone. She unlocked it and handed it over.

I took it and fell in.

U know you liked it.

Fifty pictures of animal butts.

U know you liked it.

A hundred pictures of animal butts.

U know you liked it.

I have proof.

The tide of butts relented, into dinners, shoes, horizons, bridges, cars, faces, three-chins, tongues out, laughing and ?—

Tell the cops u lied.

A picture of Lacey. Close up. Eyes closed, like she was Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. Her hair across her face like it was blown there, the background a soft-rippling red that I was sure was fabric but that looked like blood.

Or else.

I dropped the phone, coming to my senses just before I surged, power snapping between my fingers. The words were dancing in my mind, along with everything else I’d downloaded, all of her photos, everything from today on ZB, tainting anything wholesome?—

the photo of a sunset ?—

you liked it

a picture of a dinner out ? —

tell the cops you lied

like poison in a well.

“Jessie?” she asked, worried as she picked up her phone.

The real world of Lacey’s room slowly settled around me. “I’m here,” and I saw her eyes searching mine.

“Did Liam send that?”

The photo haunted me—and I could close my eyes and recall the timestamp of each text. “I don’t think so. We were doing homework. He wasn’t anywhere near his phone.”

“Okay.” She rocked back to kneeling. “I’m gonna call it off.”

“What?”

“The cops. They can’t make me testify. They don’t even want me to anyway.” She looked from her phone to me. “What if there are more? What if he has pictures of the whole thing?”

“If he does, then they can catch him.”

“But what if all the pictures are just of me, not him?”

My mind was racing. What if I’d kept holding onto her phone and I hadn’t sparked—would I’ve been able to somehow go through ZB and see who was posting the pictures on the other side? “Lacey—don’t give up.”

She shook her head, firm. “No. I just tell them nothing happened, and it ends tonight. He won’t post any more pictures, and I can go on and live my life.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she said. “I’m tired of butts, Jessie. I’m tired of all of this—of wondering who hates me, of being afraid, of my mom crying all the time like this happened to her not me—I need this to be over.”

Her intensity right then, her mind was made up so I backed down. “Okay. If you say so, okay.”

She nodded, encouraging herself. And then while I watched she messaged MysteriousAzzho1e back. I could feel her typing the letters out, I knew what she was saying without seeing the words.

Don’t post any more photos.

I’ll tell the cops to call it off.

It shot off into the ether, another green firefly, and we both waited, tense.

And another green firefly flew in at the speed of light. It pierced my back and Lacey’s hand until it burrowed into her phone and shared its message.

Where had it come from? How could I find out?

I knew what it said before Lacey read it aloud, too.

Good.

She sagged after reading it. “What a nightmare,” she whispered, to herself.

“You think it’s over?”

“It better be. I can’t take much more.” She ran her free hand through her hair.

“You ever have that dream where you’re running away from something all the time?

Like you’re in a desert, and then you’re in a house, and then you’re on the streets, but it doesn’t matter where you go, something’s always chasing you? ”

I nodded.

“I feel like I’ve been living that dream, ever since Friday. I’m mad, sad, and pissed off as hell—but mostly I’m exhausted. My mom is just—you don’t even know, Jessie.” She braced her head on her hands and her elbows on her knees. “I thought my old life sucked—now I dream of getting back to it.”

She was so angular, sitting the way she was, from the side. How many times had I been jealous of how thin she was, or how funny? Or of the fact that her mom seemed to care, even if her way of caring was caring waaaaaay too much?

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She looked over at me. “Are…we going to be okay?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

Things slid back into place like they were meant to. Me and Lacey, Lacey and me, side-by-side. Except for one thing missing….

“I hate to bring it up, but Sarah thinks you hate her?—”

Lacey groaned. “Oh God. I don’t. I just don’t want to talk to her yet.”

“I don’t blame you. But she’s freaking out a little.”

“How am I supposed to talk to her? ‘Hey, thanks for the party invite to the place where I got raped?’ I just can’t deal with that yet—or her—okay?”

“Yeah. Of course.” I said and went to my knees and gracelessly stood up. “I gotta get back—Allie’s alone, and I’m on thin ice. Are you coming to school tomorrow?”

Lacey stood too. “Maybe. Depends on my mom. She’s being her. You know how it is.”

I did. Ms. Harper was the kind of mom who’d rather buy all your Girl Scout cookies from you rather than risk you going door to door—which Lacey’s room and life thus far was largely a testament too, against Lacey’s heartfelt desires.

Ms. Harper must’ve been really shocked when the real world broke rudely in.

“Okay, well—” I stood in front of the window. I’d never managed getting out of here in a skirt before.

Lacey grabbed my hand before I tried. “She took an Ambien. It’s safe to use the front door.”

“Then why did I have to come in this way in the first place?” I looked from the window to her, and saw her with a tiny grin.

“Old time’s sake. Also I was still a little mad at you.”