Кейт Эллиот - The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2021

It rings, but she doesn’t move a muscle until the playground empties. Shaky, she climbs to her feet. Across the soccer field, Haley watches, her expression unreadable.

The stench of rot fills the tiger’s grove. Dead things, evil things. This is probably how the Devil smells, sulfur thick enough to shut your throat. Emmy stands quivering, her eyes on fire with tears. Shaking maggots from its fur, the tiger snarls. The glint of sharp yellow teeth sets Emmy’s heart thumping faster.

“Come on,” she whispers. “I got something for you.”

Kneeling in the mud, Emmy rips herself apart. Fingernails deep in her own flesh. Skin and muscle shredded like old jeans. Fury gushes out like battery acid, scorching Emmy in its wake. She’s a volcano, she’s a thunderstorm, she can’t even see straight.

Hot black anger smokes on the dirt, stinking like barbecued flesh. Bile pushes over her tongue, slicks the pile of heaving rage so that it gleams oily in the late afternoon light.

The tiger growls. But no matter how much it eats, there’s more to give. The other girls will never, ever let her live this down. The year’s ruined, the next one too. Forget Haley liking her.

And what’s going to happen to Jessica? Nothing, of course. Worse than nothing. She’s going to flounce through life with her okay grades and shiny hair and her pretty little smirk. Everyone’s going to love her because that’s just what happens sometimes, even though the sheer unfairness makes Emmy throw up.

A very long time later, she is empty. The tiger washes its paws, wincing, dainty. Emmy flops against its side. With a reeking tongue, the tiger licks her hair and face until her tears quit trickling through. Its stripes are widening; it’s almost black with orange stripes, not the other way around. Under her hands, its skin feels tight, like a water balloon filled too far.

Maybe if she keeps feeding the tiger, it’ll explode. Maybe if she stops, she will.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Sunshine!” Even at seven thirty in the morning, Mom’s makeup looks like a magazine. “I think you need an earlier bedtime. These bad moods are something else.”

Emmy grunts, propping her chin on one hand. Her untouched cereal decays to sogginess. “Can I stay home from school?”

“What? Why?”

“My tummy hurts.”

Mom’s disappointment cuts like Jessica’s sneers. “Are you fighting with the girls again?”

Inside, her heart hardens up. She shakes her head.

“Love your neighbor, kid.”

“I know. ”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

Because it sounds easy, when she’s cross-legged on the Sunday school carpet. Because no one else has this problem. Other people just decide to be friends, or to get over things, and then they do. No one gets stuck the way Emmy does. Maybe if she was good enough to love other people, other people would love her back.

But she can’t say all that. If she opens her mouth, all the fire and brimstone will flood out like vomit. And there’s no tiger to take it away, not here.

By the time she gets to school, her ribs are cracking under the pressure. The other girls cluster around the playground. Haley’s with them, talking to Jessica. That stings, but no one pays any attention to Emmy. She loiters by the trees along the back fence. Someone taps her shoulder.

“Hi,” Haley says.

Emmy swallows. “Hi.”

“Um.” Haley scuffs her shoe against the asphalt. “I wondered. If you wanted to hang out after school tomorrow? We could make forts in the park.”

“I—​I have Bible study.”

“Thursday?”

“Okay,” she says, head spinning. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Haley starts to head inside, but then she pauses. The dimple returns. “I’ll wear a dress.”

Once again, the tiger starves. Emmy can’t sit still. She can’t stop talking. For two nights, she scours her closet. No dresses, of course. That’s okay. From movies and Archie comics, she figures she needs a button-up shirt. She got one last Christmas, dark purple. It’ll do.

Before the big day, she takes an extra-long bath, scrubbing between her toes. The next morning she combs her hair one hundred times and swipes Mom’s mouthwash to gargle. “Don’t you look nice?” Mom says. “See what I said about early bedtimes?”

When she steals glances in the mirror, Emmy doesn’t see badness. She sees a girl who deserves a “happily ever after” as much as Jessica does.

“This is where you hang out?” Haley asks. Beneath the trees’ green tunnel, it’s earthy-cool. If Emmy squints right, she can almost pretend they’re in a real forest.

“Yeah.”

She’s not taking Haley near the tiger. Closer to the tennis courts, the path dips down beside the stream. The reeds haven’t choked it yet; last winter’s dead leaves meld into a mulchy smell that Emmy likes. They find a tree with branches sticking out low and straight, perfect for propping sticks against. While Emmy gathers dead wood, Haley sticks pine needles and clods of earth in the cracks.

Sometimes their fingers brush when they’re arranging sticks. Emmy wonders if Haley notices.

In the distance, twigs snap and leaves rustle. Emmy frowns, scanning the path. She hasn’t fed the tiger in two days—​is it hungry enough to leave the grove? She’s pretty sure it wouldn’t eat Haley, but she’s not ready for anyone else to see it yet.

“You okay?” Haley asks.

“Thought I heard something.”

“A dog, maybe? Hey, I think we’re done.” Haley scoots inside the fort and grins at Emmy. “Come inside!”

While Emmy takes a seat, Haley peers out the gap they left as a window. After a minute or two, she turns around. “Wanna play Truth or Dare? I’ll go first. Truth.”

“Have you ever . . . uh, cheated on a test?’

“No way!” Haley giggles. “Okay, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever had a crush on anyone?”

Emmy’s jaw keeps sticking. “Yeah.”

The fort isn’t very big, and somehow, Haley’s migrating closer. Their knees are almost touching. “Truth,” Haley says.

“Have you ever had a crush?” Emmy says.

Haley’s dimple deepens. “Yeah.”

There’s a long silence. Emmy clears her throat. “Dare.”

Haley glances out the window again. “I dare you . . .” She waits a long time. “I dare you to kiss me. On the cheek.”

Oh. Oh. Their knees bump. Blood rushes in Emmy’s temples. Wiping her hands on the hem of her fancy purple shirt, she takes a deep breath. Haley’s half turned, cheek presented and waiting. Fighting the butterflies in her stomach, Emmy inches forward. She tilts her head, and—​

“Oh my God! ”

The butterflies turn to knives.

“She was actually gonna do it!”

Emmy shoves herself backward. Just outside the fort stand Jessica and her minions, laughing and laughing. They clutch disposable cameras from Shoppers Drug Mart. As Emmy gapes, Jessica lifts her camera higher.

Click. The flash blurs through tears.

Haley’s laughing too, hard and mocking. The dimple’s never been deeper. “Oh my God. Jessica, it worked.”

Click.

Click click click click.

The fire goes so hot, it freezes. Sudden burning coldness drives like snow, burying Emmy whole. Distant buzzing fills her ears; otherwise, there’s nothing but blankness and ruin.

She stalks past the other girls without saying a word. When they follow her, she breaks into a run; it doesn’t take long to lose them in the bush. Silent, she staggers into the tiger’s grove.

It waits for her, yellow eyes calm, paws crossed. Emmy splits herself along the same seam as always, but her badness seeps out frigid and slow and translucent blue. When she lifts it, it burns like frostbite.