Page 4 of The Circus

TEDDY

“Please tellme again why the fuck we’re taking gym our senior year?” Cash grumbles shortly after lunch, tossing aside his khakis to pull on his ugly mesh shorts. Snorting, I shake my head and tug on my short sleeve shirt, sniffing at the collar as I do. I can’t remember the last time I took it home to give it a wash, but at least I don’t have major body odor like our other male counterparts.

Brant, naked as the day he was born, runs around the locker room, using his towel as a whip, his laughter boisterous as he snaps it at his best friend. I wonder when he will tell everyone he’s gay. My guess is never, considering who his parents are.

“Because we failed freshman year and made a vow to retake it senior year for an easy credit.”

Cash slams his locker shut and gives me a shocked look while I tie my tennis shoes. “Who’s fucking idea was that?”

I smirk.

“Yours, dipshit, so stop complaining.”

His grin flourishes, and he juts his thumb over his shoulder toward Brant. “He must’ve failed, too.”

Meandering out the back doors to the track and field, I answer his sarcasm with my own.

“Nah, Brant just takes gym every year so he doesn’t have to look more idiotic than he is. Brain versus brawn and all that.”

“Sadly, his best idea was planting that coke on us.”

We break out into a warm-up jog around the auburn-hued track, the day uncharacteristically sunny and humid, the boughs of heavy evergreens sweeping the freshly manicured landscaping. Behind us, perched high on a hill, the massive stone façade of Seattle Prep glares down at all of the students, its gothic architecture stunning, the gray foreboding building ancient and filled with secrets. The long glass windows glint in the rare sun, and sweat pools between my shoulder blades after only half a lap.

The students who have completed their warm-up gather in the center of the track where the grass is worn down to nubs. A few are stretching, some of the less athletic ones panting and red-cheeked. The only thing I do to keep myself in shape is stalk and murder people. Takes a lot more strength than one might think, or believe me capable of. I’m often teased for being tall and gaunt, having yet to fill out, but I’ve no doubt I could easily take on any of these assholes and win without even breaking a sweat.

Cash and I make our way over to the group, waiting for instruction from our two gym teachers. One, a young man fresh out of college, the new assistant coach for our lacrosse team, and the other, a wizened woman in her sixties who has worked here since the dawn of time. Her sour glance at all of us makes my stomach twist. She enjoys torturing her students as much as I enjoy lunging for the kill, but she’s safe from the voices in my head. As much of a hard ass as she is, she’s never been unkind to me, treating all of her students the same.

“This will be your last trail run of the year, kids. Partner up. The team to make it back to me first will earn extra credit if they need it, and they won’t have to dress down for gym the rest of the week.”

“Fuck yeah,” Cash hisses beside me, holding his hand low, palm open. I slap it, fighting my grin. It’s not like we will win because we’re fast and in shape, but because we will figure out a way to cheat just to piss off Brant. Everyone pairs off quickly, a group of bubbly girls flirting with said bully and his jock friends.

“Miss Peterson, Eden doesn’t have a partner,” Ashley points out. “Probably because everyone knows how slow she is.”

The entire class collectively laughs, and even the new teacher fights to hide his grin. Fucker. I grit my teeth in annoyance, eyes finding Eden. She stands silently in the small crowd, skinny arms crossed, pale legs like twin sticks jutting out of her too-big shorts. Her shoes are barely clinging to life, old ratty Converse high tops.

Miss Peterson glances around the group of girls, searching for any other singleton and finding none. My body tenses, turning toward the freakish girl, and Cash punches my arm. “Stop it, asshole.”

Our teacher’s eyes land on me, and she nods her head in our direction.

“Eden, join Cash and Teddy today, dear.”

Her eyes widen, and in the sunlight, they’re the color of pale twin amethysts, round like a doll’s in her porcelain face. The voices in my head perk up, and warmth flares through my chest. Blood would paint her skin so beautifully.

“Fucking hell,” Cash mutters while I fight a grin.

“Get going!” Miss Peterson barks, ignoring everyone’s shock. Brant and his pal Aiden jog by us, checking our shoulders as they go.

“It’s perfect!” he calls, turning to jog backwards and grin at us. “A freak for the freaks to share!”

Cash, utterly annoyed, huffs and jogs off, leaving Eden and me alone with the teachers. She doesn’t bother to even look my way, just sets her jaw and takes off into the woods, the trees swallowing her phantom-like form whole.

When I follow, the voices can’t help but to paint a gruesome image in my brain, the kind where only one of us returns from the forest, her blood cooling against my skin.

We catchup to Cash quickly, because of all the things he is, a runner isn’t one of them. Eden remains silent, her pace light footed but nowhere near athletic. Stuck at the back of the pack, I don’t mind; that prize was intangible for us, anyways. Brant is probably already back and asking if he can go again.

“Gettin’ slow, Johnson,” I pant, my eyes stuck on Eden’s long braid, a few tendrils of hair snaking loose as it bounces against her bony shoulders.

“Fuck…off…” he growls, jealous that our time is being tampered with by Eden. For four years, it’s been him and I and no one else. I suppose we’ve grown protective over one another in that sense, not keen to share when sharing would only bring us misery. But Eden…Eden has had no one throughout high school, and a sting of pity zaps through me. Pushing myself to jog faster, I catch up to the two, her sandwiched safely between us on the wide, dirt path, sunlight filtering in through the canopy above and painting the ferns a golden hue. The warm air is tinged with the scent of rot and dirt.

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