Page 18 of What Rough Beast

“Pervert,” I say, bumping him with my hip.

“What? No, that’s not what I meant,” he says, eyes going wide. “You’re the pervert.”

“Dedicated pervert,” I correct him, adding a sly smile as I walk away that’s going to keep him awake tonight, wondering exactly what I meant.

That smile shudders, then disappears as I round the corner, headed to the office, hoping that the conversation behind me has taken the swerve into sex that I’d derailed it toward. Some of what Murph said was dead-on, some of it way off—I just didn’t want him finishing the story, regardless. Because right after Typhus Zedeker disappeared, my grandpa came wandering out of the woods, face twisted, mind broken, unable to speak.

Some of us know exactly what happened to Typhus Zedeker.

But the only one who wants to tell can’t talk anymore.

Fourteen

Ava

I spend fifth period in the bathroom, after changing into the clothes that Hailey Wagner unceremoniously threw at me when she came in.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I’d asked her.

“I’m not,” she’d said, then proved it by adding, “There’s no bra, but it’s not like you need one.”

I’m hanging out in a stall when the lunch bell rings, not sure I’m ready to be far from a toilet. I get comfortable on the floor and pull out my phone, flipping over to my Rock Bottom DMs and the message from averageamericanmale. I hadn’t answered him right away, since I had to explain to Widow why there was a fried squirrel on her desk. I stare at his message now, desperate for something to distract me. I don’t know how to respond to someone telling me I’m powerful when I’m hiding in a bathroom, so I just go with the truth.

burnedoutgirl: Bet you wouldn’t think so if you saw me right now

A green dot immediately pops up next to his avatar and an ellipsis appears.

averageamericanmale: Why? What’s wrong?

burnedoutgirl: Just on the bathroom floor crying

I wasn’t earlier, but now I am. I don’t know how it began, or when I started rocking back and forth, my tailbone scraping against grout, but that’s what’s happening.

averageamericanmale: What do you need?

I stare at the response; it’s so simple and perfect. He said he wasn’t good with words, but sometimes less is more. My parents have been asking me what I need because they want to fix things for me and don’t know how. Dr. Hildebrand has told me to think about what I want so that there’s a goal and a clear path forward. I hadn’t known how to answer either of those things until the truth slipped out of me, singed squirrel hair filling my nose as I told an empty room that I needed someone to listen to me. No one would before; I can’t expect this perfect stranger to buck the trend.

burnedoutgirl: I’m okay. Just need to get my shit together.