Dangerous Boys

  We ate at the formal dining table, Ethan and I on opposite sides of the table, Oliver seated between us, at the head. I was still on edge, hyper-aware of every word and movement Oliver made, but this time, my heartbeat was racing from anticipation, not fear, as I forced myself to try and figure him out.

  What was he playing at?

  ‘So why are you still single?’ I asked Oliver, a teasing note in my voice. ‘Weren’t those Yale girls throwing themselves at your feet?’

  He grinned, his eyes bright. ‘Constantly. I couldn’t walk around campus without tripping all over them.’

  ‘Sounds like a safety hazard. You should come with warning signs,’ I replied, my voice arch. There, I wanted to tell him, I could keep up.

  He grinned. ‘It was a liability, certainly. I drove the staff mad.’

  ‘Olly doesn’t do girlfriends.’ Ethan spoke up, his mouth full. ‘He keeps dating these amazing girls and then it’s all over. Who was that one I met freshman year? Lucy?’

  ‘Lucinda,’ Oliver corrected him.

  ‘She was the best,’ Ethan told me. ‘Pretty, smart, the sweetest girl, totally in love with him. And he turns around and dumps her in, like, five minutes flat.’

  ‘What was wrong with her?’ I watched Oliver, his unruffled confidence as he reached to help himself to more garlic bread.

  ‘I got bored.’ Oliver sounded unconcerned. ‘Most people bore me. Haven’t you noticed, the world is made up of spectacularly uninteresting people.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ I laughed, still playing casual, but he fixed me with a penetrating stare.

  ‘No? You don’t think so too?’ he challenged, ‘You don’t spend your life, day in and day out, dealing with tedious small-talk and mindless bullshit, about last night’s reality TV, or what that slut of a pop star wore this time around. Mediocre people leading mediocre lives, acting like it’s the only option until you’d rather just blow your brains out than pretend it matters any more?’

  There was silence. Ethan gave an awkward laugh. ‘Way to be creepy, bro.’

  I laughed along, but inside, I felt a chill. Of course I’d thought that, it rattled in my head louder every day. Even with Ethan, I found myself biting my tongue, having the same conversations about nothing, or worse still, not wanting to talk at all.

  ‘Why settle?’ Oliver asked, as if hearing the truth behind my silence. ‘Why waste my time on someone who doesn’t intrigue me, or challenge me? People are so . . . limited. What’s wrong with wanting more than that?’

  I blinked. ‘I don’t know,’ I said quietly, looking down. ‘Maybe more doesn’t exist.’

  ‘You really think that?’ Oliver pressed. ‘Or is that just what you tell yourself, as an excuse for putting up with so much less? Playing it safe,’ he added, his voice mocking. ‘Following the rules like a good little girl.’

  ‘Hey, dude.’ Ethan spoke up, but I didn’t want him defending me, not this time.

  ‘Don’t,’ I told him, before turning back to Oliver. I drew myself up, glaring at him. ‘Where do you get off, acting like everyone is beneath you?’ I demanded, ‘Just because you don’t want something, doesn’t mean that it’s “less”. Maybe they’re not the boring ones, maybe you’re the one with the problem instead. You’re the one who can’t keep up a real relationship, after all.’

  ‘Chloe!’ This time it was Ethan objecting to me. He frowned at me. ‘You don’t have to get personal.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Oliver smiled, and I realized with a sinking heart that I’d done it again: let him wind me up, press all my buttons so I couldn’t help but lash out. ‘Maybe she’s right,’ he added, ‘Maybe I should just try and find a nice girl like Chloe. You seem happy together, after all.’ He looked at me, taunting. ‘The perfect match.’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ I said firmly, reaching for Ethan across the table. ‘Very happy.’ I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles, my gaze never leaving Oliver’s.

  Don’t mess with me, I tried to tell him silently. I wouldn’t be dancing at the end of his strings any more, I wasn’t so weak as that.

  Oliver just smiled knowingly. ‘You’re right, there’s nobody quite like her. What do you say, baby brother?’ he said lightly. ‘I could fight you for her.’

  Ethan laughed. ‘Over my dead body.’

  I watch, still paralysed, as the boys grapple on the bare concrete ground. The empty house around us makes it feel staged, like scenery waiting for the cameras to start rolling, but this isn’t pretend, playful wrestling, it’s elbows and teeth and vicious angry hands, choking for air. Pure fury. Murder in their eyes.

  ‘Stop it!’ I cry. But they don’t even pause for breath. It’s like I’m not even here. ‘Stop it, both of you, please!’

  I finally break out of my shock and grip the knife tighter. The handle fits in my palm so smoothly, it could have been made for me: a steady weight, the sharp edge of the blade. I scramble to my feet and stand there, shaking, as they grab and hit. Oliver’s face is bloodied, Ethan lets out a low grunt as he slams his elbow into Oliver’s ribs.

  ‘Stop!’ I scream at the top of my lungs. There’s nothing I can do, no way to break their fury. Except . . .

  I hold one arm out, pull the shirt-sleeve back, hold the blade to my skin. ‘Stop, or I’ll hurt myself!’

  Ethan surfaces from his violent haze. He sees me and his face goes slack. ‘Chloe! What are you doing?’

  ‘Let him go.’ My voice shakes, but my hand is steady. I press down, feeling the sharp bite of metal. A thin thread of blood appears, trailing down my wrist. I press harder. ‘I mean it, let him go. Both of you, get back.’

  Ethan scrambles up right away, his hands out, his face a mask of fear. ‘Be careful,’ he begs me, ‘you don’t know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Oh, she does.’ Oliver rolls over and spits a mouthful of blood on the ground. He takes a breath, laboured, then heaves himself to his feet. ‘Bravo.’ He grins at me through the red, a gruesome smile. ‘Well played.’

  ‘This isn’t a game!’ I yell, fear mingling with anger, hot in my veins.

  Oliver looks at me curiously. ‘Of course it is, sweetheart. And you’ve got the trump card. So, what are you going to do now?’

  I swallow. ‘We’re leaving,’ I say, gripping on to the hope with everything I have. ‘You and me, Ethan,’ I say, fixing my gaze on him. I lower my voice, soothing, pleading. ‘We just walk out of here and it’s over. Nobody has to get hurt.’

  ‘You and me?’ Ethan blinks, looking desperate. He has hope too, I realize. He just wants this to be over as well.

  ‘Yes, of course. You and me,’ I promise him, managing a smile. ‘Everything will be OK.’

  I lower the knife, trembling, and start to edge across the room. Ethan takes a breath and then his body relaxes. I reach him and take his hand. ‘We’ll be OK,’ I promise him again. ‘Everything will be OK.’

  I send a look back to Oliver, warning him. Let this go. Ethan is calming now, but his temper is still a hair-trigger, we’re not out of danger yet.

  I gently tug on Ethan’s hand. ‘Let’s go home,’ I tell him softly. ‘It’s late. We can just crash out and sleep tonight.’

  His eyes flicker over mine, searching. I hold his gaze, barely breathing. I’m close, so close to getting out of here, and I know, Ethan wants to believe me.

  He always did.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ I add softly, reaching up with a shaking hand to touch a cut on his neck. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up. It’ll all be better in the morning.’

  Ethan nods, a jerk of his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, broken. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I soothe him again. ‘I know, it all just got out of hand. We’ll be OK.’

  I take a step towards the door, and then another, still holding my breath. There’s a beat, and then Ethan follows me, holding my hand tight.

  It’s over.

  Blood pounds in my ears, I’m dizzy with relief.

>   I reach the door, already thinking fast, ahead to what’s to come. If I just get Ethan home, he’ll calm down. Back in his house, away from Oliver, I can talk him down. The fight has drained from him, I can see it in his eyes. It was a moment of madness, but it’s over now.

  I’m safe. We’re all safe now.

  ‘Not so fast, baby brother.’ Oliver’s voice comes.

  I spin in time to see him wielding a length of copper pipe. It cracks against Ethan’s back. He goes down, sprawling on the ground.

  Oliver stands over him, blood dripping from his mouth, a furious glint in his eyes.

  ‘We’re not done yet.’

  Oliver was sitting on the Reznick front porch with a shotgun.

  I stopped, halfway to the house.

  ‘No need to be scared, this isn’t for you.’ Oliver looked up. He finished polishing the barrel and held it up, checking the frame. ‘I’ve got bigger prey in mind.’

  I exhaled, closing the final distance to the steps. Snow had been falling all week until a blanket of white covered the town, but their path was shovelled clean. Ethan’s work, I knew. ‘I thought you were off in Aspen. Or, Miami.’ I shrugged, as if I wasn’t tracking his every move.

  ‘What? And miss baby brother’s birthday?’ Oliver smiled. ‘Never.’ He paused, meeting my eyes with a teasing smile. ‘How have you been? Read any good books recently?’

  I flushed.

  The text messages had started the day after the infamous dinner. An unknown number, a single line:

  Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is. – Camus

  I knew immediately it was Oliver, so I didn’t reply, but that night I stopped by the library under the pretext of collecting more romance novels for Mom. I found the slim volume tucked in the classic literature section, the pages dog-eared and yellowed with age. I checked it out, feeling like a thief, and read it cover to cover, late into the night.

  The next day, it was a quote from Nietzsche. Then Bret Easton Ellis. Each time, I refused to respond, but still, I tracked down the books, wondering what Oliver was trying to tell me – if he was trying to tell me anything at all. I read each page, searching for the meaning, and although I didn’t see him for weeks, it felt as if he was there in the room with me every night.

  Watching me.

  And now he knew it too – he’d known I would run right off to follow his notes.

  ‘Nothing much.’ I feigned casualness, still trying my hardest to beat him in this twisted, curious game. ‘Why, you have any recommendations?’

  Oliver smirked. ‘Ethan!’ he bellowed. ‘The light of your life is here!’

  Ethan came out, dressed in warm winter wear: boots, a turtleneck sweater, a thick jacket, and more. ‘Hey!’ He lit up at the sight of me, sweeping me off the top step and into a hug. ‘I thought you were working!’

  ‘I took the afternoon off sick.’ I kissed him, my lips cold against his. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’

  ‘You did, this is awesome.’ Ethan beamed. ‘Now you can come too!’

  ‘Come where?’

  ‘Hunting.’ Oliver replied. He stood up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder. In his navy wool coat, he looked like a Revolutionary War soldier, deadly and uncomfortably dashing. ‘The eternal struggle: man against beast. Or, woman,’ he added with a smirk.

  I shook my head. ‘It’s OK, you guys go ahead. I can meet you after to celebrate.’

  ‘No, you have to come,’ Ethan protested. ‘I promise, it’ll be fun.’

  ‘I would just be in the way.’ I shot a glance at Oliver, but he was wrapping a dark red scarf around his neck and checking his bag for ammunition.

  ‘But you’re already out here. Please?’ Ethan asked, taking my hands. He made a puppy-dog face at me, all wide eyes and hopeful innocence. ‘It’ll be a blast, I promise.’

  ‘Quite literally,’ Oliver spoke up.

  ‘It’s my birthday, right?’ Ethan added. ‘That means you have to do what I say.’

  ‘Is that how it works?’ I joked, my mind racing. I met Oliver’s eyes over Ethan’s shoulder and, despite myself, my pulse kicked. I knew I should leave, that I should keep my distance, but something inside me was restless. Work had been dragging for weeks now, and the classes at Rossmore were barely a relief – exchanging one fluorescent-lit room for another, one set of paperwork for textbooks and class assignments. Now that winter had arrived, my life seemed coloured with grey, the colour of melting snow, dirtied and worn.

  The Reznick brothers were the only flash of life and colour I had now. This, if nothing else, wouldn’t be dull.

  Besides, part of me was dying to know: what would Oliver do next?

  ‘Fine,’ I told Ethan, dragging my eyes back. ‘But I’m not really dressed for the woods.’

  ‘You can borrow Mom’s boots,’ Ethan grinned, kissing me on the cheek. ‘We’ve got a ton of jackets hanging around. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He led me inside.

  ‘Don’t take too long!’ Oliver’s voice echoed after us. ‘We don’t want to waste daylight.’

  We set out into the woods bordering the back of their property. Ethan and Oliver had shotguns and hunting packs, but my hands were free, a bag with an extra sweater and thermos of hot coffee slung over my back. The snow crunched underfoot, the trees were bare around us and the sky an icy blue above as we followed a barely-visible trail deeper away from civilization.

  ‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ I asked, looking around for signs of the route. I was used to running in the woods but, with the snow, everything looked different. ‘It’s been snowing pretty hard.’

  ‘Relax,’ Ethan reassured me, reaching to take my hand. We fell behind Oliver. ‘You can’t get lost out here.’

  ‘We’ll loop up by the lake,’ Oliver announced, checking a map on his phone. ‘The guy at the store said they’ve seen plenty of bucks up there this week.’

  ‘Great,’ Ethan agreed. I looked over.

  ‘You didn’t say you hunted.’

  ‘Not much, usually I just go out with Dad or Olly,’ he explained. ‘He’s the real hunter. You should see the trophies he’s got, it’s like a gift.’

  Oliver turned. ‘Speaking of gifts, why don’t you show Chloe your new toy?’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ Ethan opened his bag and pulled out a large hunting knife, sheathed in a leather case. ‘Look what Olly got me.’ He slid the cover off, showing me the blade, eight or nine inches long. ‘Isn’t it great? I can use it for stuff at work too, we’re always unloading materials and dealing with all that plastic wrap.’

  ‘Great,’ I echoed quietly. The blade glinted in the sun, silver and sharp, and before I even thought about it, I found myself reaching for the knife. I sliced an arc through the air, feeling the weight of it in my hand, and how the hilt curved against my palm.

  ‘You like it.’

  I looked up. Oliver was watching me. ‘Oh, yeah, it’s great,’ I said, handing it back. ‘I left my gift in the car,’ I told Ethan quickly. ‘I’ll give it to you later.’

  ‘You didn’t need to get me anything,’ Ethan grinned.

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Aww, you’re too sweet.’ Ethan tugged me closer, kissing me on the lips. I kissed him back, my mind alert and acutely aware of Oliver, only a few paces away. The knowledge made me guilty, but there was a thrill there too. The risk. A challenge.

  ‘Enough of you lovebirds,’ Oliver’s voice came, but I kept hold of Ethan’s jacket, kissing him longer before finally breaking away.

  Oliver’s gaze was on me, amused. ‘This way.’ He nodded to a fork in the trail. ‘And keep it down, unless you want to broadcast our arrival to the entire herd. Deer may be stupid animals, but they are at least smart enough to run away when danger comes their way.’

  His eyes lingered on me, and I wondered if that was a message. Was he danger? Was I supposed to run?

  I wasn’t afraid.

  ‘Lead on,’ I told him, striding ahead into the snowy wilderness. Oli
ver chuckled, and kept walking.

  Oliver followed some tracks out to a spot by the lake, then had us settle in behind a scree of brush and trees. He watched the water through military-style binoculars, while I snuggled up to Ethan and passed the coffee and snacks.

  ‘So now we just sit around, waiting?’ I asked.

  Oliver chuckled, his eyes still fixed out on the scene. ‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you: good things come to those who wait.’

  ‘Good things like pneumonia and chillblains?’ I shivered.

  ‘Hey, you cold?’ Ethan immediately unwrapped his scarf and looped it around my neck.

  ‘I’m good.’ I smiled at him. ‘It’s nice to be out, I’ve been trapped behind that desk all week, fielding calls.’

  ‘Better than laying cement,’ Ethan countered, laughing.

  ‘True.’

  ‘Hey, did they ever charge that driver?’ Oliver spoke up. ‘The one who killed your friend.’

  My heart clenched at the mention of Crystal. I’d gone to the funeral, a useless gesture, but I needed to be there, to see them lower the box into the cold ground, adorned with a single white rose.

  ‘Not yet.’ I managed to reply. ‘There’s a whole load of legal back and forth. Blake’s parents got this big-shot lawyer in, talking about police incompetence and tainted evidence.’

  ‘The Haverford sheriff’s department? I’d never believe it.’ Oliver’s tone was light.

  ‘They never even arrested him.’ I said bitterly.

  ‘So he’ll get away with it?’ Oliver turned.

  I shrugged, even as my blood itched with the injustice. ‘I don’t know. Sheriff Weber says the guilt will stay with him forever.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not justice,’ Oliver said, as if reading my mind.

  I swallowed back the sharpness rising in my chest. ‘I know. But, what can you do? Some people just get away with it. Wrecking lives and then moving on. They never miss a beat.’

  ‘It’s OK, babe, we don’t have to talk about it.’ Ethan hugged an arm around me and I caught the warning look he sent to Oliver. ‘I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.’