door shut in five seconds, and I’m punching numbers shakily into the phone in eight. For some reason, hearing about her twisted past has only made me want to talk to her more. This girl may not be normal, she may not be “okay,” but she cares for me, and all I want to do is let her know how amazing I think she is.
The venom snorts. Always the superhero, Locke. Go ahead, try to face something this terrible. I can’t wait. Ignoring its voice is impossible, and I shudder. Blurting something out at the wrong time is not an option here. Don’t be toxic, Locke. Careful.
A droplet of sweat forms in the center of my forehead and begins to trickle annoyingly down the bridge of my nose. After two rings, it’s hanging on the tip of my nose, and I’m about to wipe it off when someone picks up the phone, at which point the droplet sails down and spatters onto my pants.
“There’s no excuse for you calling me so late, you know.”
Caller ID. I hope. “Well…actually, there is.”
“Oh, really? And that is?”
“How’ve you been?”
“Ha, yeah, that’s gonna work. Answer my fucking question, Locke, why didn’t you call me?”
As my mouth opens, the venom screeches in the back of my head, louder and louder until it’s all I can hear. Even considering her parents up has sent it into a psychotic tantrum. My throat feels closed up, and I have to clench my eyes as hard as I can just to concentrate. No, no, no, not now. Think of something, Locke, something good and reasonable, something that isn’t the truth.
“Look…Renée, you being Andrew’s sister, that’s a delicate issue for me. You know?”
“Nope. Keep going. How so?”
Fantastic. “Look, Renée, why didn’t you mention that your brother was Andrew Tomas?”
“Hmm, what about him?”
Oh boy. This isn’t easy. “Well, I mean, I don’t want to sound like a wuss or a jerk, but the kid threatened me with physical violence because I wanted to date you! And I—”
“Waitwaitwait. Stop. You want to date me? You never mentioned this.”
“Y’know, my mom actually brought this same thing up—”
“Oh, wow, you discussed me with your mom?” She chuckles. “This is some serious shit. I guess you really do want to date me.”
“Well, I only curled up with you in my lap and made out with you for about an hour.”
“I’ve done similar with boys who I’ve had no intention of dating.”
Suddenly my head is filled with a picture of me force-feeding these faceless boys glass. Glass mixed with wasps. I tell it to shut up. Venom talking. “So the idea never crossed your mind?”
There’s a pause before she says, “The thought did cross my mind, yes.”
“Well, yes. I really want to date you.”
“There it is, out in the open.”
“So.”
“Go on.”
“There’s…not much to go on about. I’d like to date you.”
“Well,” she says, sounding somewhere between annoyed and giddy, “if that’s the case, maybe you ought to ask me out?”
I remember my mom’s words and cringe. “Would it be okay if I dated you?”
“Wow. I don’t know.”
“WHAT?!”
“Well, that had so little confidence behind it. ‘Would it be okay’—I’m not sure I can date someone who—”
My mouth shakes, falters—
And then something new happens.
Renée’s comment acts as a challenge, a shove, and I can’t help but shove back. The venom fills me, screaming in my ears and blazing through my blood, and takes hold of the words in my mouth. There’s no poison, though, just the confidence and grandiosity the venom gives me, the godlike part of the change, as though I’m… tapping into the dark reservoir in me, taking what is needed, leaving the muck and the pain behind. It’s the venom and I speaking as one, communicating as a full being.
“Okay then, fine,” I say, fueled by this new sensation. “Renée, I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to be your boyfriend, and I want to be your boyfriend right fucking now. That cool?”
“You
The venom snorts. Always the superhero, Locke. Go ahead, try to face something this terrible. I can’t wait. Ignoring its voice is impossible, and I shudder. Blurting something out at the wrong time is not an option here. Don’t be toxic, Locke. Careful.
A droplet of sweat forms in the center of my forehead and begins to trickle annoyingly down the bridge of my nose. After two rings, it’s hanging on the tip of my nose, and I’m about to wipe it off when someone picks up the phone, at which point the droplet sails down and spatters onto my pants.
“There’s no excuse for you calling me so late, you know.”
Caller ID. I hope. “Well…actually, there is.”
“Oh, really? And that is?”
“How’ve you been?”
“Ha, yeah, that’s gonna work. Answer my fucking question, Locke, why didn’t you call me?”
As my mouth opens, the venom screeches in the back of my head, louder and louder until it’s all I can hear. Even considering her parents up has sent it into a psychotic tantrum. My throat feels closed up, and I have to clench my eyes as hard as I can just to concentrate. No, no, no, not now. Think of something, Locke, something good and reasonable, something that isn’t the truth.
“Look…Renée, you being Andrew’s sister, that’s a delicate issue for me. You know?”
“Nope. Keep going. How so?”
Fantastic. “Look, Renée, why didn’t you mention that your brother was Andrew Tomas?”
“Hmm, what about him?”
Oh boy. This isn’t easy. “Well, I mean, I don’t want to sound like a wuss or a jerk, but the kid threatened me with physical violence because I wanted to date you! And I—”
“Waitwaitwait. Stop. You want to date me? You never mentioned this.”
“Y’know, my mom actually brought this same thing up—”
“Oh, wow, you discussed me with your mom?” She chuckles. “This is some serious shit. I guess you really do want to date me.”
“Well, I only curled up with you in my lap and made out with you for about an hour.”
“I’ve done similar with boys who I’ve had no intention of dating.”
Suddenly my head is filled with a picture of me force-feeding these faceless boys glass. Glass mixed with wasps. I tell it to shut up. Venom talking. “So the idea never crossed your mind?”
There’s a pause before she says, “The thought did cross my mind, yes.”
“Well, yes. I really want to date you.”
“There it is, out in the open.”
“So.”
“Go on.”
“There’s…not much to go on about. I’d like to date you.”
“Well,” she says, sounding somewhere between annoyed and giddy, “if that’s the case, maybe you ought to ask me out?”
I remember my mom’s words and cringe. “Would it be okay if I dated you?”
“Wow. I don’t know.”
“WHAT?!”
“Well, that had so little confidence behind it. ‘Would it be okay’—I’m not sure I can date someone who—”
My mouth shakes, falters—
And then something new happens.
Renée’s comment acts as a challenge, a shove, and I can’t help but shove back. The venom fills me, screaming in my ears and blazing through my blood, and takes hold of the words in my mouth. There’s no poison, though, just the confidence and grandiosity the venom gives me, the godlike part of the change, as though I’m… tapping into the dark reservoir in me, taking what is needed, leaving the muck and the pain behind. It’s the venom and I speaking as one, communicating as a full being.
“Okay then, fine,” I say, fueled by this new sensation. “Renée, I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to be your boyfriend, and I want to be your boyfriend right fucking now. That cool?”
“You
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