Megan Abbott - The Fever

People she barely knew but who knew she was friends with Lise.

Kim C says she heard Lise was on Pill was she

Why did everything have to be about sex, she wondered. Didn’t it make a lot more sense that it was something else? Like in sixth grade when Kim Court ate the frozen Drumstick and Mrs. Rosen had to inject her with the EpiPen in front of everyone. After, everyone called her EpiGirl or, worse, Nutz Girl, and since then no one could eat nuts anywhere at all.

Have u heard of toxik shok? tampax can kill u

Then came crazy thoughts, like what if, trying to help Lise dislodge that crooked tampon a few days before, she’d done something wrong? What if it was her fault?

She kept thinking about what Gabby had said: Am I a bad friend?

That morning, Deenie hadn’t even met Lise at her locker. She hadn’t wanted to see her. Her head still muggy with thoughts of the night before, of Sean Lurie, she wasn’t ready to tell. And Lise would see her, and would just know .

Tugging off her tights and jeans, she took a long bath, pushing her hand down on her pelvis until it burned.

She still felt funny down there, like things weren’t right.

When you thought about your body, about how much of it you couldn’t even see, it was no wonder it could all go wrong. All those tender nerves, sudden pulses. Who knew.

Right now, she couldn’t even picture Sean Lurie’s face.

She remembered, though, the oven grit under his fingernails, the grunt from his mouth, the rough shudder, jerking her back and forth beneath him so she thought something had gone wrong. And then the soft sigh, like everything was good at last.

It made her head hurt, and she put it all away in a high corner of her thoughts, where she wouldn’t have to look at it for a while.

After the bath, she sprawled on her bed and opened her history book and read about ancient Egypt.

Mr. Mendel had told them that Cleopatra may have been a virgin when she smuggled herself in a hemp sack to meet Julius Caesar. Giving herself to him was pivotal to her rise to power.

The book explained how Cleopatra first enticed Mark Antony by dropping one of her pearl earrings into a wine goblet. As it dissolved, she swallowed while he watched.

Deenie read the passage three times, trying to imagine it. She wasn’t sure why it was sexy, but it was. She could picture the pearly rind on the queen’s lips.

In class, Skye said she’d read something online about how Cleopatra used diaphragms made of wool and honey, and a paste of salt, mouse droppings, honey, and resin for a morning-after pill, both of which seemed maybe worse than being pregnant.

Deenie wondered how it all came to pass, the virgin–turned–seductress–turned–sorceress of her own body.

She thought for a second about the snap of the condom Sean Lurie had used and she covered her face with her book, squeezing her eyes tight until she forced it out of her head.

By ten o’clock, she’d read all forty of the assigned pages, plus ten extra.

At some point, she could hear Eli in his room, his phone and computer making their noises, Eli clearing his throat.

Once, a few weeks ago, she’d heard a girl’s voice in there and wondered if it was porn on the computer until she could tell it wasn’t. She heard the voice say Eli’s name. E-liiii.

She’d turned her music as loud as she could, held her hands to her ears, even sang to herself, eyes clamped shut. She hoped he heard her fling off her Ked so hard it hit the wall. She hoped he remembered she was here.

Tonight, though, the house was hushed. She was so glad for it she didn’t even feel bad about not calling her mom back. And when her dad knocked good night and said he loved her, she made sure he heard her reply.

“Me too. Thanks, Dad.”

At midnight, she felt her phone throb under her hand.

The picture of Gabby from when she had that magenta streak in her hair.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, girl,” Gabby said, a slur to her voice. “I just fell asleep. I dreamed it was tomorrow and she was back. Lise. She was laughing at us.”

“Laughing at us?” Deenie said. She wondered if Gabby was still sleeping. She sounded funny, like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It was a dream,” Gabby said. “When I woke up, I thought maybe something happened. Maybe she called you.”

Deenie paused, wondering how Gabby could ever think that. But Gabby hadn’t been to the hospital. Hadn’t seen Lise, seen her mom. Hadn’t heard all that talk about the heart, Lise’s heart. Deenie pictured it now, like a bruised plum in her mom’s hand.

“No,” Deenie said, carefully. “I don’t think it’s going to be that quick.”

“I know,” Gabby said, her voice sludgy and strange. “Listen, I’ll see you tomorrow, Deenie.”

“Okay,” Deenie said. She wanted to say something more, but she couldn’t guess what it would be. Then she remembered something. “Gabby, what was the rumor?”

There was a pause and for a second she thought Gabby had fallen asleep.

“What?” she finally said.

“This morning, before everything, you said you heard something about me.”

“I did?” she said, voice faraway. “I don’t remember that at all.”

Wednesday

When he woke up, Eli thought for a second that he was on the ice. Felt his feet in his skates, legs pushing down, grinding the blades hard. His chest cold and full. This happened sometimes.

It was still dark when he left the house for practice. It always was, and he never minded.

He rode his bike through the town, swooping under the traffic lights, counting the number of times the red signals would blink and no one would be there to stop.

It took him a long time to remember everything that happened the day before.

Morning practice felt like part of the dream and he woke up after, in the locker-room shower, his legs loosening and the heat gusting around him, his body finally stopping and his mind slowly rousing. Remembering all the things he’d forgotten.

“Principal Crowder’s having a very bad time,” Mrs. Harris whispered to Tom as he strolled through the administration office. “He can’t get any information on Lise Daniels, and parents keep calling.”

“Well,” he said, reaching for his mail, “I’m sure Crowder’s state of mind isn’t a big concern for Lise’s mom.”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Harris said. “But it would help us to know. To calm everyone down. When something happens in front of students…”

Tom nodded. He was looking at an interoffice memo: Spring Will Spring (Soon!): A Morning Concert. All Faculty Expected to Attend.

“So this is still happening today?” he asked. A picture came to him of Lise, rosebud lips perched on her silver flute, at the last recital, at every recital since fifth grade. She used to practice on a plastic water bottle. You pretend like you’re spitting a watermelon seed , he once heard her tell Deenie, and they both giggled. All the talk of tonguing and fingering and the two girls laughing without even knowing why. These days, they didn’t laugh about any of that—a thought that made Tom nervous to ponder.

“Of course,” Mrs. Harris said. Everything with her was Of course and Of course not . “They’ve been practicing for weeks.”

Tom looked at the concert flyer, the graphic of the drunken music note swimming through flower petals.

Driving Deenie to school that morning, he’d felt the exhaustion on her, and a watchfulness. The waiting—which felt like it could end in a second or never, like waiting for all things out of your hands—seemed so weighty on her, her body so tiny next to him, her shoulders sunken.