Technocracy: Marin/Ardo, Part 1

Marin was annoyed.

“And so she just stood there, like the stupid fat cow she is, and she wasn’t even moving,” said Kimberley.

“So, like, she didn’t even say anything?” said Becky.

“No, it was so dumb,” said Kimberley. “She just started crying. So of course I kept making fun of her. It was fun! She just crumpled.”

Lindsey snorted in laughter. “Good. Dumb bitch and her fat nerd friends made me late for Pre-Calc with their bullshit. Make her pay.”

“I made David Whitaker pay for interrupting me talking to Clyde the other day,” said Becky. “I got him hauled into the counselor because I said he groped my boob.” She grinned and showed her big white teeth. “Greasy little shit.”

“Hmm.”

Three pairs of eyes swiveled. Brown, green, and blue—but that blue was not the blue, not the blue, of the deep, powerful sapphire eyes they met.

“You have something to say, Mare-Bear?” said Becky.

“You did it too soon,” said Marin. “You know he’ll bother you again, right?”

“No, why would he?” said Becky.

“Because you didn’t make it keep going. You didn’t draw it out,” said Marin. Her sapphire blue eyes were half-lidded, as she lazily fixed her gaze on Becky. “You didn’t make him suffer, Bec. That’s the key.”

“He’s going to have to have regular sessions now, thanks to me.”

“Yeah, low-key stuff. Bullshit. He’ll blow it off and then just go home and vape. His mom probably won’t even hear about it. He’ll hide it from her.” Black eyebrows pursed as she furrowed her brow. “You should have drawn it out and made something stronger happen.”

“The little freshman knows about policing creeps?” snarled Lindsey.

“I know all about it. I’ve known since middle school.” She arched her eyebrows. “And, besides, I have plenty of practice. After all, my boobs are bigger than Bec’s, and have been for a while.”

Marin crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis. Becky’s eyes twitched, and betrayed her intimidation. The edges of Marin’s lips quirked upwards.

“Okay, early bloomer, what should I have done?”

“Led him on,” said Marin. “You should have goaded him into actually touching you. Made him think you wanted him to do it. Encouraged him to do it. Built him up. Made him think, against all odds, that you actually were into him. Build him up. Then crush him.” Marin tapped her fingertips together. “Smile at him, be friendly with him, get him into you. And then, you pick a random time when he gropes you, because you’ve gotten him trained to do it, and you throw a scene. Pitch a fit. Scream at him in the hallway. Make everyone think he’s, like, molested you or something. Because if you do that, not only have you gotten him in trouble, you would have built him up and now you’ve torn him down. He’ll hate himself forever, and avoid you for the rest of his life.”

Kimberley and Lindsey flickered their gazes at each other. Kimberley smiled ferally. “Mean. I like it.”

“I-I mean I could have done that,” said Becky, flinching, and Marin leaned forward as Becky leaned back, feeding off her weakness.

“But you didn’t,” said Lindsey. She grinned, showing big white teeth of her own. “You’re not as mean as Mare-Bear. Gosh, I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone to pick up the slack, knowing I’m going to be gone soon.” Lindsey was a senior. In fact, Lindsey and Kimberley were both seniors, while Becky was a sophomore. Marin was the youngest among them. The four of them, along with a few girls clinging nearby, were lounging outside during free period. There were other girls: fatter girls, uglier girls, girls that trembled and stuttered. They did not approach the place where Lindsey, Kimberley, Becky, and Marin stood and leaned. At the start of the school year, it had only been Lindsey, Kimberley, and Becky.

Marin tossed her long black hair over her shoulder. “I do my best.” She then put her hands inside the pockets of her big, heavy, mustard-yellow cashmere dress. It was very expensive; her mother had bought it for her.

“Oh, there’s your other little freshman friend.”

Marin fought the urge to smile. “Guess that means I’ve gotta go,” she said. “See you girls later.”

“What do you even see in her, Mare-Bear?” said Becky. “She’s a weirdo.”

“She’s been my friend since we were babies,” said Marin. “I’m not, like, completely heartless.”

“Well, your loyalty is charming,” said Lindsey, crossing her arms over her own chest, “but you do need to start keeping your image in mind. That girl’s poison. Look at her, she’s a freak.” Marin fought the urge to snarl. “She’s so pale! Pale is in right now but she’s too pale. And she’s always sitting by herself during free period, except when you go over there.”

“Well, I’ve gotta go,” said Marin. “Same free period tomorrow?”

“Come hang out with us at Wilkes Point tomorrow after school,” said Kimberley. “There’s gonna be beer and rum there, and Tyler and his friends are going to be there too.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Go tend to your little friend, Mare-Bear,” said Lindsey. “Just don’t forget: everyone’s always watching.”

Marin nodded, and smiled, and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned on her heel. Then she walked towards Saera. When she knew she was out of earshot of the three older girls, she scowled. “Bitches,” she muttered under her breath.

“Marin.”

“Saera!” said Marin, and her face immediately, joyfully contorted into a smile—a real smile, not the smirks and feral grins she’d employed in her time around the older girls.

“Hey,” said Saera, her silver eyes widening in a rare, open expression of joy. But then Saera looked over her shoulder, looked past Marin, and those eyes again grew narrow and cautious. “Hanging out with them again?”

Now it was Marin’s turn to be fearful, and cautious. “I just… I need to maintain my image, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good for me. It’s good for us. You know that if I’m popular you have an easier time of it, right?”

“I am not certain this is the best course of action,” said Saera. Her eyes narrowed further, and Marin knew some deep thought was coming. “You did become very popular in middle school. Around seventh grade. I remember.”

“Well, I mean,” said Marin, instinctively tossing her long black hair over her shoulder, “I’m pretty, I’m fun, I’m cute, and I am just the best. Can you blame anyone?”

“You did not have to say yes.”

“Hmm?” Marin’s sapphire eyes heard that note in Saera’s voice. The sharp note, that razor-edged note. She swiveled her gaze towards her oldest and best friend. “What do you mean?”

“When those sorts of girls…” Saera’s silver eyes darted back towards Kimberley and the rest. “The girls with lots of hair. The pretty girls. The ones who think they can do whatever they want, because they are pretty. When they noticed you. When they started to invite you to join them.” Saera tilted her head to the side. “You did not have to accept their invitations.”

“I…” Marin felt her hackles rise. It was a rare thing, when she was upset at Saera. But a faint, distant feeling of frustration billowed up in her chest. She fought it immediately. Saera was always right. “I just didn’t see what the problem was. There’s no problem, Saera.”

“I heard some of what they said to you.”

“Oh,” Marin’s sallow skin grew pale. “L-Look, I just said a lot of things back there. It doesn’t all matter. I don’t care. We lie to each other all the time.”

“That seems like a bad thing,” said Saera.

“That’s just how it works with those sorts of girls,” said Marin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because I’m not pretty and rich and popular, like you?”

Marin felt her heart go cold, like ice. Her dazzling sapphire blue eyes bulged. And for just a moment—for half a second—that cold in her chest was icy hot. “You don’t—” she almost said, almost snarled, almost bared her fangs and barked at her oldest and best friend.

But Saera did not flinch or react. Her face was so funny: it did not react to most things. Whether she was sad, or happy, or angry, or disgusted, or anything, Saera’s emotions did not stay long on her face.

And Marin felt a wet, damp misery spreading out of her heart, into her stomach, into her throat. And she was reminded all over again why she’d called the three older girls ‘bitch’ but why that was not a word she would ever, in all her life, use against her best friend.

Marin glanced to the side. And she did the one thing she always knew she could do with Saera: she was honest. “Yeah, pretty much,” she said, talking out of the side of her mouth. “Yeah, yes, I am popular and pretty. You know that.” She smiled, weakly and gently. “I mean, no point in denying that, right?”

“No,” said Saera.

“Hey, yo, you’re pretty too,” said Marin. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t.” She thought of Lindsey’s comment and grimaced. “You’re beautiful, don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not.”

Saera smiled in a small way. “I know,” she said. “But not like you.”

“So, really, I’m not trying to be a b-bitch,” said Marin. “When I say you wouldn’t understand, I mean it. It’s not the same. It’s different for me than for you.”

“I know. But does that mean you need to hang out with… them?”

“It…” Marin neglected to meet her friend’s gaze. “It does. I think.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I should like to,” said Saera. She leaned in, but did not touch. Saera did not touch. “I should like to understand. Help me to understand.”

The bell rang. Mercifully.

“Some other day, okay?” said Marin, smiling weakly at her, her face betraying the relief she felt. It was virtually impossible for Marin to hide her emotions. “Some other time, I promise.”

Saera, of course, hid her emotions exceptionally well. The hints of sorrow, of gentleness, of tenderness, were gone, and her face was as neutral as it had always been. “Okay,” she said. “Some other time.”

“Right,” said Marin. “See you in Homeroom.”

“Marin, I do expect that other time to come, eventually.”

“I-I,” Marin said, and blanched, and her black brows lowered. “It will come. I promise. I’ll tell you.”

“You would not lie to me, would you?” It was more accusation than question.

And Marin stopped dead, and bent her head, and smiled gently, because Saera could always break her, because they’d been friends since the beginning of everything. “No. I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Soon?”

“Yes,” said Marin. “Come on, let’s go! We’ve gotta get to Homeroom.”

“Fine,” said Saera, who began to hurry towards the entrance of the school, well behind Marin.

Ardo was boiling with wrath.

“I was drawing there, shithead,” he snarled, practically pulling back his lips and showing off his teeth. His ruby eyes did that thing they did: they flared and seemed to light up, glowing from within.

Tyler curled his lip. “We’re gonna hang out here now. You can move.”

“I don’t think I want to,” said Ardo, clenching his fists.

It had all started when Ardo had passed the wall. It was a wall of white brick, part of the waste processing facility used by the high school. Ardo had wandered out to its reach one day after school, after his aunts had texted him and told him they would be late picking him up. He had wandered there, and he had seen the great wall, with its stark, boiling white brick, that even in the late November chill exuded a kind of clean white heat. And he had seen it, and he had been struck by the feeling that the wall needed a drawing on it.

So for the past few days, when he could, he’d been coming to the wall with his chalk and drawing. Like much of his art, the thing he worked on now was abstract: jagged, cutting lines of blue, of red, of brown, of white. But it had become a rather large project: the lines and the colors were growing, swelling, beyond a simple day or two’s work. This had become something that he would need to spend a week on, at least. But that wasn’t such a big deal, since Ardo liked ruminating over projects. It was fun to hold an idea in his mind for a long period of time; he normally thought very fast, so the slowness of a long-term project was a pleasant contrast.

But now the two older boys, juniors, were leaning against the wall—leaning against his drawing. Tyler was blond with blue eyes. Zach, his friend, was dark-skinned with dark hair. The two of them glared at Ardo, and Ardo, for his part, glared right back. He bared his teeth and clenched his fists e’en tighter, and that glimmer again came into his ruby red eyes.

Tyler certainly noticed it. In Tyler’s own blue gaze there was the twitch, the shift, of uncertainty, of worry, and Ardo smiled savagely as he saw it. “Fuck off and go somewhere else,” he said. “Go smoke on the other side of the building.”

Zach scowled at Ardo and flicked his lighter, sending up a lonely bright tongue of flame. Ardo eyed this with some interest. He’d sometimes wanted to take up smoking. His aunts would have killed him, of course, and he’d learned years ago that they were too good at sniffing out details of his life for him to hide something like smoking from them. But it was still an interest he had. He’d always thought it looked cool. There was something in the aesthetics of it that fascinated him: the busyness of the hands, the glowing cinder of the cigarette, the thin, fairy-like wisps of smoke that came from its burning end. He’d even sometimes bought lighters for himself and just sat in the dark of his room at night, flicking the switches, sending pale orange flames up into the gloom.

But he’d just settle for burning inside, instead of outside. And now his heart raced and his chest blazed with heat.

“Listen, you little shit,” said Tyler. “We’ve been coming out here to smoke all the past year. We were coming out here before you even got here, freshman. It’s you who needs to move, not us.”

“I don’t see your name on this spot.”

“Like your name’s on it? Give me a break.”

“It is,” said Ardo, and his smile quirked in amusement. “Can’t you see? That’s my signature, there on the wall behind you.” The two boys turned and saw the artwork, sprawled across the white brick.

Zach squared up his shoulders and faced Ardo full on. He was taller than Ardo, but not by much; Ardo had had a growth spurt in the last few months, and these days was almost as tall as Terry, though Terry was currently doing some growing of his own. Zach crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe we don’t want to move.”

Ardo slid one foot backwards, poising his left, weaker leg in front and his right, stronger leg behind; and he bent his knees, just like Terry had taught him. “Move or I’ll make you move.”

Tyler now squared up, and the two boys looked, for a moment, like they might actually move to attack him. And Ardo felt no fear. Perhaps this was enough: the boys relaxed their tense bodies. “Whatever, fucker,” said Tyler. “We’ll be here again tomorrow, or maybe the next day. You’d better not be here then.” He turned to Zach. “Come on.”

They left. Zach bumped into Ardo, deliberately, as he passed him. But the two older boys did leave, and did not look back. Ardo turned to watch them go. He grinned fiercely at their departing forms. “Yeah, fuckers, try that again next time.” Then his smile grew softer, and gentler. He moved the rest of the way to the wall, and he pulled his backpack open. He got out his chalk and resumed drawing.

Marin was in a good mood.

For a change, she’d gotten a perfect score on her English quiz. English was a weak subject for her; she’d always been better at solving math problems than writing long answers about poems and short stories. But this was a 100% grade, and it made her very happy.

She was also having an extremely easy period. She was a day into it. In the year and a half since she’d been getting them, Marin’s periods had been easy in general: she never had any pain, and she usually only had very light cramping. But she hadn’t even had the slightest hint of cramps, and the beginning was usually when she felt them the worst. She also was feeling normal, mood-wise; she often got a bit grumpier than usual when it was happening, but there was no added grumpiness in her mood that she could detect. And this, on the contrary, made her incredibly pleased.

“Hmm,” she hummed contentedly, hiking her satchel up on her shoulder a bit as she made her way to Art class. They’d been working with pastels for the past week, and Marin was quite proud of what she’d been doing: it was a seascape, a beautiful light blue sky with sunshine beaming down onto a darker, navy blue sea that churned with white, foaming waves. She strongly hoped that her mother would frame it when she was done with it; Bellona had framed various school artworks of Marin’s over the years, and Marin was convinced this was her best one yet.

“I thought I said not to be there again.”

“Fuck you.”

Marin’s black eyebrows rose. She’d know that particular flavor of fuck anywhere. Her eyes followed her ears, and sure enough, there was Ardo, a few lockers away from the door to the Art classroom. He was backed against those lockers, and he was being confronted by two other boys Marin knew, though not nearly as well. Tyler and Zach—they were part of the pack that Lindsey, Becky, and Kimberley ran in, and of course Marin herself was part of that group as well. Marin actually thought Tyler was pretty cute; they were both cute, but she liked Tyler’s cheekbones better. She remembered choking down rum next to Tyler just a few days ago at Wilkes Point, trying not to vomit.

“Look, fag, we’ve been smoking at that spot since before your gay ass came to this school to begin with,” snarled Tyler. “It belongs to us. I don’t give a shit about whatever your gay art is doing there. Don’t go there again.”

“You’ve been getting on me for a week about it, but I keep showing up, and nothing keeps happening,” said Ardo.

“We’re waiting,” said Zach.

“Do you think I’m scared of you fuckers? Do you think you bug me?” Ardo leaned forward and his face took on that particular expression that Marin had seen so many times by now. His eyes widened and those ruby red irises seemed to sparkle and crackle. Even from a distance Marin felt the effect. Ardo could look genuinely frightening when he wished.

Tyler and Zach clearly felt it, as Marin saw their body language shift to the defensive. But Tyler responded to his fear by doubling down. He shoved his hand right onto Ardo’s shoulder, and there was a faint metallic bang as Ardo was pushed into the locker behind him. “You wanna see what happens when we finally get tired of your shit?”

“God you’re such a fucking coward,” snarled Ardo. “I’ve been in detention three days already for fighting but I’ve never seen your ass there. You’re all talk.”

Tyler’s grip on Ardo’s shoulder tightened—

“Oh, yo, hey, Tyler!”

All three boys swiveled their heads. Marin was waving at them, smiling with a big, fake smile.

Tyler grinned, and his hand left Ardo’s shoulder. “What’s up, Mare-Bear?”

“Just covering your ass, is what’s up,” said Marin. “Come on, you really gonna start a scene a few minutes before the bell?” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched her black eyebrow at him.

Ardo’s own black eyebrow shot upwards.

“Nah,” said Tyler. He pulled away from Ardo in a rush. “Nah, that would be dumb.” He turned to Ardo again. “Stay away from that wall, dumbass. You won’t get many more chances.”

“Whatever,” said Ardo.

“So, Mare-Bear,” said Tyler, immediately forgetting Ardo as he turned to her, “you’re coming to the party this Sunday, right?”

“Uh, I still have to ask my mom,” said Marin, twirling a long strand of her hair. “But I definitely want to come.”

“I want you to be there.”

“Oh!” cooed Marin, a bit surprised by how flattered she felt. But she fought the bubbly feeling in her chest. That wasn’t what she needed right now. “Well,” she said, smiling, beaming her sapphire blue eyes at Tyler. “I’ll make sure my mom says yes, then.”

“Cool.”

Two short, sharp chirps rose over the loudspeakers, causing the four teens to crane up their heads.

“Five minute bell,” said Marin. “Gotta be getting into class.”

“Are you in class with this dweeb?” asked Zach.

“Well, yes, against my best wishes,” said Marin. “But I have to do what I have to do.”

“Good luck, Mare-Bear,” said Tyler. His eyes twitched down to Ardo. “Don’t keep testing me, shithead.” And at that he abruptly turned, and stalked off down the hall, Zach close behind him. Zach gave one final glare over his shoulder as he left.

“Blech,” said Marin, sticking out her tongue.

“What the fuck was that, fatass?” asked Ardo.

“Um, excuse me?” said Marin, eyes bulging as she stared at Ardo. “I just saved you from getting your face caved in, that’s what that was.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me, fatass,” said Ardo, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dark orange pants.

And Marin felt a twist of a knife in her chest, and she realized that this was how Saera sometimes made her feel. “Ardo!”

The sharpness of her voice made him raise his head, and really look at her.

“Ardo, you’re my friend,” said Marin. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, okay? You’re such an annoying little shit so much of the time,” Marin gritted her teeth, “but I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay? And those guys are trouble. I know. I hang out with them.”

Ardo smiled, a small smile but a warm one. “Look, fatass, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t tangle with those guys. I’m serious. They could hurt you all on their own, but they can also get other people to hurt you, too.”

“I already have Terry worried about me, I don’t need you worried about me, too.”

And Marin’s face twisted in anger. “I could tell you to fuck off. I could destroy our entire friendship, I could destroy the friendship between all four of us, okay?” Ardo’s red eyes widened. Marin huffed a frustrated breath. “But I don’t want to. Because I do like you. You know that, right? I do like having you as a friend.”

Ardo stared at her with a blank, empty face for a few moments. He shook his head. “Look, I can handle this. I’m serious. I…” his shoulders rolled with a sudden, deep, chuckling laugh. “Thanks for worrying about me, fatass. I’m grateful. Really. It’s nice of you.” He waved a hand in front of her face. “But I can handle this, I promise.”

“You always say that, but how true is it?” said Marin. “You know it’s not just me. Terry tells me things about you. He’s worried about you, too.”

“Great, that’s two of you.”

“Don’t get hurt, okay?” Marin’s blue eyes sparkled. “You’re such a little shit. But you’re a good little shit.” She gave a deep laugh of her own. “Be careful. Please.”

A triple bell rung above their heads.

“Welp, time to get to work!” said Ardo, clapping his brown hands together. “Your painting’s almost done, right?”

“Yep,” said Marin, walking side by side with him as they entered the Art class room. “Just need to finish a few of the waves. How’s yours going? That forest fire?”

“I’m actually really pleased,” said Ardo. “I normally hate drawing real life stuff, but this has been going really well. I got this great mix of warm colors for the flames.”

“I’ve seen it a few times when I’ve looked your way. It’s neat.”

“Yeah, and I’m just about ready to start on the really fine details.”

Ardo was smug.

His lips curled and his bright white teeth were flashing as he approached the waste treatment building. It was, of course, because of what he couldn’t see. Tyler and Zach were nowhere to be found. Ardo clenched his fists. Victory.

He’d known they would back down. He knew, he’d learned, that the boys bigger and older and stronger than him were usually not braver than him. There had been a few exceptions. Ardo had bled a few times as punishment for underestimating the bravery of older boys. But as a general rule, anyone who messed with him was a coward, deep down. And when push came to shove Ardo was not a coward. Ardo was brave to the point of stupidity. Ardo would rather die in battle than back down. In the deep past of the black ages Ardo would have died on the battlefield with a bloodied ax in his hand. Ardo was many things, and one of them was brave. And he knew that this bravery, this lack of cowardice, was enough to win the day all on its own. Most of the time.

Moving to the drawing, Ardo opened up his backpack. There was a high, swooping arc to the abstract shape he was creating, and he was trying to decide what color to add to it next. Maybe some green—

“There you are.”

Ardo’s black brows lowered. He turned. “What’s up?”

Terry stood there with his hands on his hips. He was wearing brown jeans and a white henley, along with his usual green field jacket. He had a look on his face that made Ardo’s hackles instantly rise.

“What?” Ardo asked.

“You’re lucky you’re not getting jumped right now.”

“They’re not here, are they? I won.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Zach and Tyler are somewhere else today, but I bet they’ll be back.”

“If they come back I’ll deal with them.”

“How? By getting your ass beat?”

“I can handle them!” Ado smiled. “Your lessons are gonna make sure of that.”

“Just because I’m teaching you to fight a little doesn’t mean I want you to go around looking for fights,” said Terry. “Marin told me about what’s going on.”

“Great,” Ardo rolled his eyes.

“She’s worried about you. She knows that crowd pretty well. I’d say that if anyone knows what they’re capable of, it’s her. Maybe you should listen to her.”

“She’s not my mom.”

Now it was Terry’s turn to roll his eyes. “You know of all the four of us, you and Marin like each other the least. So if she’s actually going out of her way to look out for you, maybe you should be grateful. And maybe that should make you realize that this is an actual big deal, and not a joke.”

Ardo rolled his eyes yet again. “You sound worried.”

“I am worried,” said Terry. “I’m your friend. I ought to worry about you, right?”

“I—”

“I do worry about you!”

Ardo’s red eyes widened.

“We all do. I mean, duh. You get in more trouble than the rest of us put together,” said Terry. “Are you surprised that we worry about you?”

“I…” Ardo clutched his green chalk that much tighter. “You all…” He sighed in a loud breath. “Do you all really worry about me?”

“Yes. I do, and so does Saera, and so does Marin.”

“Fatass worries too, huh?”

“She cares about you more than you’d think. She’s talked about this with me.”

Ardo rolled his shoulders with chuckles, with deep belly laughs, and he turned, and began to mark up the rolling edge of his drawing with his green chalk. “Don’t you think that’s kind of fucking weird?”

“Hmm?”

“We’ve all only known each other a couple of months. Why should we care about each other so much?” Ardo chalked up the drawing, coloring it in. “Doesn’t that seem a little strange?”

“A…” Terry curled back the fingers of his outstretched hand. “A little, I guess. It is weird. Yeah, it is weird, that we kind of suddenly care about each other. But—” Terry drew in a sharp, quick breath, and Ardo paused his drawing, and turned. “It doesn’t suck, does it?”

“Hmm?” hummed Ardo.

“It doesn’t suck. It’s not bad, is it? That we all care about each other? Even if it’s strange, and sudden, and feels a little weird?” Terry put his hands on his hips again. “Isn’t it nice to have people who care about you?”

Ardo’s mouth quirked upward at its edges.

“I guess,” he said.

“I like it. It makes me happy. I like that you care about me. I like that Marin cares about me. I like that Saera cares about me. If it is weird… then so what? I’m not going to turn it down.”

“Even if fatass is annoying…”

“You like her. I know you do. I can tell. I know she’s your friend by now.”

“A little.”

“More than a little.”

“But I don’t need her, or you, or even Saera,” said Ardo, turning. “I can handle this. Don’t worry about me, Terry. I’ll be fine.”

Terry crossed his arms over his chest. “Just don’t get your ass beat.”

“You’re not my dad.”

“You don’t have a dad.”

“Yeah, but that’s better than you, right?” And then Ardo’s black eyebrows shot upwards and his ruby red eyes bulged, and he swung around hard to face Terry, and terror was on his face. “Dude, man, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that! I’m sorry!”

Terry had not reacted. “It’s fine, man,” said Terry. “I don’t mind.”

“Look, shit, I’m so sorry!” Ardo was on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t have said that!”

Terry saw that his face was about to contort. That his heart was about to break. And Terry’s own heart cracked at the sight. “No,” he said. “You shouldn’t have. But I know you’re sorry.” Terry chuckled. “You always do dumb shit, Ardo. But I know you’re always sorry. You’re easy to forgive, because you’re always so sorry.”

Ardo glanced off towards the concrete sidewalk that bordered the waste treatment facility. “I guess I should just stop doing dumb shit, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Terry. “That’d be a good long-term goal.”

Ardo wrapped his arms around himself and belted a few mirthless laughs. “I worry that I wouldn’t learn to do that. Even if I had a thousand years.”

“You could start by fixing how you’re handling Tyler and Zach.”

“I’m just fine, Terry,” said Ardo. “Leave me alone.”

“Okay.” Terry turned to go. But he paused, and glanced over his shoulder. “Please be careful.”

Ardo did not respond. He picked up his chalk, and began to color again. Yes, this was a fine spot for some green.

Marin was pensive.

She sat, and was silent, as Kimberley, Becky, and Lindsey traded cigarettes. Marin did not smoke, and had mentioned that she had no interest in starting, a thing the other three were willing to respect.

But their talk now rose and hung about them, like the smoke that wafted from their cigarettes, and Marin was pensive as she heard it, because it tripped her deepest and most primal instincts.

“Yeah Tyler wants us all to be out by the sewage plant in about twenty minutes. He says he wants to show us something.”

It made the icy claws crawl up Marin’s spine. But she did not let it show. She had grown adept at hiding things, when she was around Kimberley and her crew. Fake smiles. Fake laughs. Fake tears. So many of her emotions around them were false.

“That sounds like fun,” said Marin. “Is it some move he learned in wrestling?”

“No, little freshman,” said Lindsey. “You need to learn. When the boys have things to show us it means somebody’s shit is getting wrecked.”

“A-Ah,” said Marin.

“You sure you don’t want a cig, Mare-Bear? You look tense. It would calm you down.”

“No… that’s fine.”

Marin clutched her arms around her torso, trying, hoping to ignore the terrible feeling in her stomach and in her back.

“Anyway,” said Becky, “we should start heading over there. I don’t want to rush, I want us to be able to take our time.”

“Yeah,” said Lindsey. “Yeah, yeah, cool. Let’s go.”

With that they left the broad white concrete wall against which they had propped themselves, and set out across the grounds of the school. It was after school, as usual, and, as usual since November had started, Marin had been asking her mother if she could stay later, to hang out with people. Sometimes this meant spending extra time with Saera, which she enjoyed very much. But quite often it meant putting in time with the three popular girls into whose ranks she had inserted herself. These hours she did not enjoy. Indeed, she grimaced, and looked at them as an unpleasant job, one she nonetheless had to perform.

Why?

It was Saera’s voice.

Marin grimaced. Saera did not appreciate how important it was for Marin to be popular. Marin helped Saera not be singled out, couldn’t Saera see that? Marin helped them all, not just Saera but also Terry and—

“Ardo,” whispered Marin. They had arrived at the sewage treatment plant. Marin could see Ardo’s beautiful chalk drawing, with its lines of red, of green, of blue, of brown, arcing up and down the white brick wall. But in front of the wall stood Tyler, Zach, and several other boys. There were buckets around them.

“Heeey there, Tyler,” said Lindsey, smiling sweetly at him.

“Hey there, Linds,” said Tyler. He spared her only a short glance, then looked to her left and down. He smiled. “Hey there, Mare-Bear.”

“Well, hey there,” said Marin, putting on a fake sultriness and twirling her long black hair. “What brings you boys all the way out here?”

“We’re gonna teach a dweeb a lesson,” said one of the other boys, a blond with dark brown eyes.

“O-Oh,” and just for a moment, Marin’s perfect fake persona cracked.

But no boy or girl there noticed it. “Okay, you all get behind the corner there,” said Tyler. “He’ll be here any minute.”

“Tee-hee!” said Becky, trying a little too hard. She led the way towards the corner of the sewage treatment plant, Kimberley and Lindsey hot on her heels, Marin bringing up the rear a bit slowly. Her stomach was roiling like the sea.

Up above it was a blue and clear November day,

As the north wind blew a little, sending hints of chill.

The four girls peeked around the corner.

“Please don’t come,” whispered Marin. Nobody heard her.

“There he is!” said Kimberley, delight in her tone. Marin felt like she was being strangled. She looked, and sure enough, there was Ardo, making for the sewage treatment plant, walking across the empty fields with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

At first his head was down, chin-length black hair shrouding his gaze. But when he was about halfway there his head rose, and Marin saw the distant glint of his ruby red eyes. He stopped, one hand on his backpack strap.

“Turn around and go away,” whispered Marin. “Please.” Again, she was not heard.

But Ardo did no such thing. Instead, his fists clenched, and he actually started walking faster, crossing the distance at greater pace. In no time, he was on bare concrete, and he came firmly to a stop in front of Tyler and the other boys.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” he said. Marin cringed.

“We told you too many times, you little shit,” said Tyler. “This spot belongs to us. You didn’t listen. Now it’s pain time.”

“You’re gonna beat me up? You’ll all get suspended or worse.”

“Haven’t you noticed, shithead?” Tyler’s finger circled around. “No security cameras out here. The magnets they use to run the treatment plant fuck with them, so they don’t work out here. Nobody’s gonna see us. And I’ve got multiple people ready to lie and give us all an alibi.”

Ardo twitched. His bravado faltered, just for a minute, and Marin hoped beyond all hope that he would turn and run.

But he didn’t. Marin saw his eyes flash bright from her spot. He flung his backpack off his shoulders, braced himself with bent knees, and put up his fists. “Fuck every last one of you!”

Two of the boys came at him. One swung his fist, but Ardo punched him in the gut and drove his knee into his gut as well, sending him staggering back. The other boy reached around to grab him from behind, but Ardo stomped on his ankle and the boy hissed in pain and loosened his grip. Ardo jabbed his elbow backwards, sending the other boy back. Ardo turned and poised—

And Tyler swung out a fist that caught Ardo clean in the cheek. Ardo staggered back. Zach grabbed the shorter boy by the shoulders and flung him to the ground. Then all five boys came in. They kicked him, driving their feet into his torso and legs and arms. Ardo curled up into a ball, instincts overtaking his urge to fight.

Kimberley, Becky, and Lindsey grinned ferally at the beating. Marin gritted her teeth. It looked for all the world that she was grinning too, at least until you got close. And the other three were too excited by the savagery to notice.

“Get his chalk!” said one of the boys. They ripped open Ardo’s backpack and dumped his beautiful colored chalks onto the ground. Tyler stepped on one hard, smashing it to powder. The other boys quickly followed suit, crushing Ardo’s chalk beneath their feet.

“Y-You,” Ardo tried desperately to haul himself to his feet. “You fuckers, you fuckers—”

Tyler came over and punted his foot into Ardo’s chest. Ardo went rolling, tumbling in the dirt with blood flecking the corners of his mouth.

When all the chalk was dust, Tyler went to one of the buckets that still lay where the boys had originally stood. There were five of them, and each boy picked up one. Tyler laughed, and went to Ardo’s chalk drawing and flung the bucket with all his might. Water went shooting out of the bucket, splashing against the drawing and making it badly run. The other boys did the same, until Ardo’s drawing was nothing but colors running in rivulets and puddles down to the ground.

“Yes!” said Lindsey. Marin hitched a breath, bile in her throat.

Their fun done, the boys slung their buckets over their shoulders. Laughing, Tyler said, “Come on, let’s get going. We’ve actually gotta show up at Ralph’s house at some point to make it more believable. Come on, girls!”

“Coming!” said Becky, eagerly jumping forward. Lindsey chuckled, and went after.

Kimberley started to move, but stopped, and glanced over her shoulder. “You coming, Mare-Bear?”

“O-oh!” said Marin. She quickly smoothed over her features and settled her voice, hating herself for it. “Nah, my mom wants me home early today. Special dinner tonight.”

“Okay, hun,” said Kimberley. “Same time tomorrow, in front of the school?”

“You know it,” said Marin, grinning. She would have loved to take a knife and slit Kimberley’s throat.

“Well, tata,” said Kimberely, hurrying to join her fellow girls.

When Tyler, at the front of the group, got to Ardo lying there on the ground, he nudged him with his foot. Ardo’s red eyes glanced upwards. “Don’t fucking get in our way again, you dweeb. Or else.” And with that, Tyler walked away, all his gang and all their hang-on girls following in his all-encompassing wake.

Marin waited as they left. She waited, until she was sure they were long gone, until they were barely visible in the far distance of the fields. Ardo had hauled himself to his hands and knees by this point. Marin pushed her head against the wall. “Oh, God,” she whispered. Her voice had an empty sound. “Oh, God, oh, God.” She was shaking, trembling, quivering. She only weakly hauled herself to her feet. She glanced around the corner of the sewage treatment plant. Ardo was still there. “Ardo!” she cried out. She moved briskly, daintily stepping around the ruined dustpiles that had once been chalk. “Ardo,” she said. She drew in close. He was not reacting. Marin’s spine was icy. “Ardo…” she said softly, drawing in much closer. “Ardo, I am so, so sorry. I… I didn’t want you to come. I didn’t—”

She reached a hand out and touched his shoulder.

Ardo’s brown arm immediately shot out and flung her hand off.

“Fuck you!”

Marin recoiled back like she’d been struck. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I didn’t know what they were going to do! I didn’t even—”

“I knew you were there!”

“Yes,” said Marin. Her sapphire blue eyes pricked with tears. “Yes, y-yeah, I’m so sorry.” She whirled to the stomped-on chalk and immediately whirled back to Ardo. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry about your chalk! I-I’ll ask my mom, she can get you a new set! You can just tell me the brand—”

“You can’t just use your rich mom to make up for all the shitty things you do!”

“I…” tears ran down her cheeks, but suddenly she was angry. “You knew not to come here! I was trying to warn you! I told you to stay away! I told you what they were like!”

“You just stood there and didn’t do anything, Marin.”

That caused a sharp, quiet breath to draw swiftly through Marin’s mouth. She clutched her fists tightly to her chest. “I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t! I couldn’t let—”

“You couldn’t let your crowd of cunts and dicks see you stick up for me?”

Marin was rendered speechless by this. She stood there, tears leaking from her eyes.

Ardo slowly, painfully raised himself to his feet. He walked, without too much of a limp, to his backpack. He did not even attempt to salvage any of his ruined chalk. Instead, he just put all his books and papers and digital equipment back inside; fortunately, these had suffered little damage. Then he zipped his backpack up, and he slung it onto his back, after which he took a moment to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Ardo, I’m so sorry.”

Ardo glanced over his shoulder. His red eye was bright, and glinted. “How sorry are you really, fatass? Sorry enough to ever do anything important with that group of shitheads you hang out with? To ever just tell them to fuck off, because they’re not really your friends anyway?” Ardo’s eye narrowed. “No, you’re not that sorry. You’ll never be. Because hanging out with them is useful for you, it’s good for you, and that’s all that matters to you. You are the only one who matters to you. You don’t really give a shit about the rest of us.” With that, he turned away, and began to trudge back across the fields, towards the school.

Marin hitched once, and she was bawling. Tears streamed from her eyes as she sobbed aggressively, heaving and hiccuping as sobs wracked her frame. She cried so hard she toppled forward, and now it was Marin who was there, on her hands and knees, crying her eyes and lungs out as the colorful piles of Ardo’s chalk surrounded her.