When we were finished, Graham pulled a can of spray paint out of his pocket. The click-click-click as he shook it traveled the corridor. The crickets chattered in response. His arm cut a sharp line in the dark and we heard what sounded like air escaping a balloon. I remembered him telling Viv that we wouldn’t be breaking the law. Funny—I was usually better at detecting his bullshit. He stepped back to admire his masterpiece.
“Har’s dad is going to have to scrub that off,” Viv hissed.
Graham shook his head, but it was Harry who spoke. “They’ll just paint over it. Easy fix.”
As we dashed away, I turned and grinned at the IV like a bloody wound carved into the door Bedford and the other school admins would arrive to. No one would connect the graffiti to us, kids who never showed up to class hungover, never reeked of pot, and never got sent to the counselor’s office. We were as good as invisible.
And I thought each of us wanted to remain unseen.
• • •
“Your sip.” Graham passed me the bottle. There was a sea of tiny white candles in the barn, the flames turning the honey wooden planks of the walls to melted toffee. We sat in a circle on the floor with our backs north, south, east, and west. When Graham suggested the formation, I recognized it. The four sets of birds were buried around the rock this way.
We placed the idol at the center of our circle; she looked lit from within, soft, serene, an all-knowing fairy godmother. I took a nip of the booze, hissed like a cat at its fire, and passed it to Graham. He took a long sip, holding my eyes, and said, “What? I want to be in the right state of mind.”
Viv’s laugh was cut off by a hiccup. “Same, same,” she said. “Liquid courage.” She retreated to her place as Graham relinquished the bottle. “Who wants first?” she asked, perched on her folded legs. “Remember the rules? Never lie. Never tell. Always love each other.” She leveled a slender finger around our knot. “As friends forever. We tell secrets, something no one knows.”
Graham said, “What about chronicling it? We record ourselves talking about the rebellions or whatever else, and we’ll cut the footage together at the end of this year.” He was rolling up his sleeves, as if all this thinking was actual physical labor.
“Or save the recordings to a shared folder on our cells so all the videos are in the same place,” Harry said, pausing from chewing on the side of his thumb.
Graham tipped his head. “But we have to agree: No one watches it until graduation.”
A nod circulated. Viv placed a hand over her heart.
“In two Saturdays there’s a blood moon and the Order has ceremonial rites,” she said. There was a conviction behind those words, ceremonial rites. Her peasant blouse pooled at her waist and twin braids made a dark tiara on her head. “And everyone has to hold the idol when they’re sharing. The Mistress of Rebellion and Secrets will burn your hands if you lie.” Her eyes widened, showing their wild, glossy whites.
For a moment there was only the air winnowing through the gap of the sliding door.
“Now for scandalizing one another,” Graham said in a deep, melodramatic voice. His legs were kicked out in relaxed confidence. He wasn’t wearing glasses or squinting, so contacts. This wouldn’t be weird for a normal person, but Graham always said he wasn’t going to stick a finger in his eyeballs just so Conner would stop calling him Dr. Spectasaurus. Graham raised a brow. “You want first, Pendleton?”
I gave an uncertain smile, reached for the Mistress of Rebellion and Secrets, and sat with her between my crossed legs. “Here goes,” I said, and then I plunged in, scrunching my eyes closed. “I only got an A in Geometry because I programmed proofs into the calculator I used during tests. I cheated.”
I opened one lid at a time. Harry’s smile showed his square front teeth. Graham scowled and asked, “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, it was going to ruin my GPA and I just could not remember—”
“No,” Graham said, “I am saying that you have got to be kidding if you think that’s the kind of secret that’s going to make us closer.”
Viv crawled forward to give me this incredulous glare, the flame of a candle illuming one side of her face. “Izzie, grow a pair of boobs and try again.”
I took a breath, tightening my grip on the idol. An uglier secret waited behind this easy-to-share confession. Disfigured and deeply rooted. Saying the next words felt like scraping them free. “My parents fight.” The idol’s smile urged me on. “It’s worse than it used to be. Not just yelling. Mom throws picture frames. Dad stomps on the glass. Mom screams she wants a divorce. They swear at each other, name call. I turn music on so no one outside will hear. Dad leaves, sometimes for the night. When he comes back they close themselves in their office, then they act like they have amnesia. Like I didn’t sweep up the glass or hear what they said. They expect us to eat dinner. Be normal.” Viv had crawled back over to be close. I continued in a guilty whisper, “I wish they would get a divorce. I’d rather have two houses than one filled with shouting.”
Viv’s hand fit into mine. Harry’s warm eyes and Graham’s troubled frown steadied me. Resigned, I’d listened to fights or tried to escape them by hiding in my closet or telling myself that grown-ups squabble like violent toddlers all the time. The fights, beyond my control, made me feel trapped and spinning.
“I didn’t know they still freaked out on each other,” Viv said. Graham’s eyes went puzzled beyond her head. She squeezed my hand. “My turn.” I gave her the idol and she crawled back to her spot. “Boys always talk about jerking off.” She was gazing into the face of the idol, one corner of her mouth in dimple. “But girls do it too.” She glanced up, sooty lashes framing her round, innocent eyes. “I figured out how to get off when I was thirteen.”
My cheeks flamed. Viv’s lips made a perfect O. She couldn’t conceal that she was surprised at herself. Harry became engrossed in picking at his thumb’s cuticle. Graham’s mouth was ajar. He joked about it all the time. I rolled my eyes or ignored him. Viv talking about it made me feel stripped naked, and that made me disappointed, because why should I feel differently about Graham and Viv talking about the same topic?
Graham gave a shake to his head, snapped out of it, and said, “Good on you. Me now.” He waved for the idol; Viv traded it for the bottle. Shadows were rushing through his eyes and he had color under the blond freckles of his cheeks. “I’ve been in love twice.” He wore his smuggling-cookies smile. “Once with Viv and once with Izzie.” He snatched the bottle back from Viv and took a long, dramatic drag, eyes ceilingward. Viv chewed her bottom lip, staring at the same unexceptional spot in the rafters.
How hadn’t I noticed that it was a sauna until that moment? I pulled my sweater over my head and left my hair disheveled against my face.
“I’m not in love with either of you presently,” Graham said. “Was that clear?” Our eyes met; his looked hurt.
I flashed a reassuring smile. “A hundred percent.”
The silence stretched on until Harry saved us.
“My mom’s parents haven’t talked to her since she married my dad,” he admitted.