Page 36 of Break You

I told myself I was okay, but I knew deep down that I wasn’t. I’d stayed up all night, researching the riddles the masked man had given me, figuring sleep wasn’t going to be an option anyway. Every time I closed my eyes I was haunted by images of the circle of masked figures.

Recalling each riddle, I was thankful for my memory skills, developed through waitressing since I was too young to be legal, but definitely old enough to know that I didn’t want to live off of the proceeds of my brother’s “job”. Legal or not, I’d had to work to survive, and a good fake ID—and an even better pushup bra—had taken care of the age issue. Since my very first waitressing gig, I’d always worked, more often than not, multiple jobs at the same time.

My masked friend had been right about one thing: I really was horrible with riddles, and even with the power of Google at my fingertips, the route to solving them had been extremely slow going and hadn’t yielded much fruit. I thought I’d worked out the second clue, but I wasn’t 100 percent sure. As a result, I decided to put the college’s state-of-the-art resources to good use, heading to the library to see if there was an actual physical book or ten that could help me check that one, and figure out the rest.

That was the business I’d alluded to when I met Xavier at the coffee shop. I wasn’t going to feel safe around campus, or anywhere, until I had more of an idea what the fuck was going on, who or what I was dealing with, and whether the previous night’s escapade was the beginning or the end of whatever “it” was. A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over me at the thought that there could be more to follow. I jammed my head between my knees, concentrating on trying to breathe slowly and steadily.

As soon as I felt vaguely human again, I was on my feet. I didn’t have time to waste throwing a pity party for myself, or dwelling on my misfortune. I never had. From a young age I’d learned to pick myself up and carry the fuck on, no matter what shit life rained down on me from a great height. And there had been a lot—way more than most people would have to endure in their whole lifetime, by the time I was barely in double digits. But I kept on keeping on, because it was either that or die.

I forced my feet along the sidewalks of the college’s historic campus still bending my brain, trying to work out the riddles. Whereas under pressure and fearing for my life with the masked man I’d thought that the solutions were objects, concepts or people, having maybe solved the second one, and realized it was a single letter, I was beginning to think again about the others on that basis.

“I’m specifically unknown, and variably fixed, use me with love, between or betwixt.”

I had a feeling that the answer was X. Unknown quantities, and variables in math were X. People used an X for a kiss as a sign of love. A mixed breed dog was something X something else, which was also kind of between and betwixt. If I was right about that, then maybe the other clues were letters also, but unusually for me, my electronic detective work hadn’t brought me any closer to solving the mystery.

As I rounded the corner near the library, I rolled my eyes internally. Just what I fucking needed. I tried to change direction in time to avoid a confrontation, but of course, had no such luck.

“Oh, look what the fucking cat dragged in. If it isn’t Xavier Cross’ pity project du jour.” Her voice was a sarcastic drawl. “You know this is what he does, right? He adopts waifs and strays to make himself feel like a better person—lame dogs, sick old men. You know he once even adopted an orphan from the projects when he was like nine years old? He’ll get bored of you, just like he has all the rest of them.”

“You off your meds again, Cherie? I have one class with Cross, where much to both of our annoyance we’re project partners. As soon as we turn in that piece of work, we’re done communicating. If he won’t fuck you anymore, it’s probably everything to do with the fact that he’s realized that your so-called brain has more holes in it than a wheel of Swiss, and nothing to do with me.” I turned at that point and headed off where I’d been trying to go when Cherie had spotted me, ignoring her feeble attempts at continued taunts as I walked away.

“What are you even doing here? Don’t you know libraries are for those of us who can read?” Her canary-like squawk cut through the semi-silence of the room.

Against my better judgement, I couldn’t let her have the last word. “Who are you trying to kid? We all know you come here because it has the most accessible bathrooms on the whole campus, so you can screw the man of the hour without the threat of being disturbed.” As she opened her stupid mouth to respond, I ducked into a nearby aisle just in time to see her apprehended by one of the librarians for yelling.

I collected some books that came up under my searches for riddles, myths, legends, and wordplay, and ensconced myself in a quiet corner to see what I could find. I looked up at what felt like just a little while later only to see that the world outside the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the building was dark. I dug for my phone in my bag and realized it was after five o’clock. Shit! I needed to hustle, or I’d be late for my shift at Rollergirl. I shoved everything into my bag haphazardly, and took off, with my mind full of the information I’d gleaned.

* * *

Later, halfway through my shift Kik pulled me aside and whispered frantically, “What the hell is wrong with you?” She looked around furtively as she spoke, as though afraid of being sprung, by whom, and about what, I wasn’t quite sure.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve had a face like a dropped chili dog, and been muttering away to yourself like someone’s mad, maiden aunt all night. It’s at the point where I overheard Max saying that you were late for your shift, and that now you’re here, he’s going to have to speak to you about your bedside manner. You’ll be running off customers if you carry on.”

“Fuck! Is it that obvious?”

“From the moon. So, what’s eating you?”

I considered lying and telling her I had PMS or some shit, but I changed my mind at the last minute. Not only did I not have the energy for more lies, but I also wanted to pick her brain.

“You’re smart. Maybe you can help me.”

“I’m not smarter than you.”

“I’m pretty sure you are, but either way, I know you know different things to me.”

Read... weird things.

“Okay, I’ll buy that for a dollar. What do you need?”

“Are you any good at riddles?”

“Ha! Are you joking? Words are not my thing. You know that. Math and science, yes. Making words sound pretty, no.”

Ugh. I’d kind of forgotten for a moment.

“Oh, yeah. Stupid of me.”

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