Alexandra“Lex”Gorgon
THE WIND WHISTLED THROUGH THE WINDING PATHWAYS OF ACHERON UNIVERSITY’S CAMPUS, WHIPPING THE DISCARDED ORANGE and brownleaves over the cobblestones and against old brickand stone buildings Myloafers skidded slightlyonthe wet ground,andIlostmybalance,theheavyloadofbooksinmyhandslippingfrommygrip.Theylandedwithasplatinapuddle, mudflyinguptodarkenmywhite,soddensocks.
“Dammit,”Igroaned,squattingcarefullyinmyshortplaidskirttoretrievethem.
“Here,letme,”asmoothbaritonespokefromaboveme,andamomentlater,Professor Morganwasbesideme,reaching formybooks
Iblinkedtherainoutofmyeyesandofferedhimasmallsmileofthanks.Intruth,Iwasinarushandthemanmoststudents calledProfessor McDreamyhadabsolutelynoeffectonme Rationally,Iknew his wavydarkhair andsquarejaw dustedin
saltandpepperstubblewereattractive.Thehandsthatcompetentlycollectedmytextswerestrongandtanned,eveninOctober fromthetimehespentsailinghiswell-knownboatPoseidon.
ButI’dneverfallenforhislooksorhisreputedcharm Itseemedvaguelydistastefulthathehostedhisfavoritestudentson board Poseidon attheendofeverysemesterforadinnerparty,andthathisofficehourswerealwaysfilledwiththeprettiest girlsfromhisclasses
Hewasharmlessinthewaynarcissistswereharmless.Itwaseasytoseethroughtheglamorifyouknewhimforwhathe was
“Ihaven’tseenyouinmyofficehoursyetthissemester,Alexandra,”hesaidwithaclickofhistonguetorebukeme.“After threeweeksofclass,Iexpectedtoseeyouthere.”
“I’mwellversedintheclassics,”IpromisedhimwithaweaksmilebecauseIwantedtolingeroutintherainlikeIwanted aholeinthehead.“I’vebeengettingAsallsemester.Iwon’tslackoffnow.”
“Mmm,”heagreed,hiseyestrackingovermyfaceashecollectedmylastbookandaddedittohispile WhenIreachedfor them,heheldfirm.“Youknow,I’dlovetodiscussyouressayonHomer’shomoeroticundertonesin The Iliad overteainmy officesometime I’mnotsureifyou’reaware,”hesaidinawaythatmeanthewascertainI did,“butI’mtheleadingauthority onHomer.”
“InNorthAmerica,definitely,”Icorrectedandagreedsimultaneously,notingthewayhisgranitejawflexedinirritation.“I enjoySirScottLinley’sworkfromEnglandaswell”
“Yes,well,abitderivative,”heharrumphed.
“WhenitcomestowriterslikeHomerandShakespeare,it’salmostimpossiblenottobe,”Iallowed,reachingformystack ofbooksagain.
Myfingersbrushedhis,andasparkshotupmyarms.Heseemedtofeelittoo,eyeswideningthennarrowing,darkeningto anavysoblackitwastheseabeneathanightskywithoutstars.
Heleanedjustabitcloser,voiceslightlyhoarseashewhispered,“Iadmireyou,Alexandra.Awomanwithyourorigins usuallydoesn’tthrivesowellhereatAcheron”
Asshole,IthoughteventhoughIsmiledhumblyathimasItuggedmybooksoutofhisgraspandstraightened.“‘Thereisno substitute for hard work,’” I quoted Thomas Edison, ignoringProfessor Morgan’s gaze as it trailed up mytights-clad legs, lingeringattheshorthemofmyplaidskirt.“Formywholelife,IwantedtoattendAcheronUniversity.”
It was one of the top universities inNorthAmerica and one of the oldest. For a girl who grew up inrural Virginia to doomsdayprepperparentswhodidn’tbelieveineducation,itrepresentedbothescapeandenlightenment. AndIwashere.
Startingmyfourthyearofmydualdegreeinphilosophyandtheclassics
Livingmylifelongdream.
Thistime,whenIsmiledatProfessorMorgan,itwasgenuinewithgratitude “I’veneverwantedanythingelse” He grinned backatme, shared passionalightinhis expression. Itmade himhandsome enoughfor me to notice. “Come, have tea withme.Myassistantis graduatingafter this year,andIneeda replacement.Someone withyour drive wouldbe a perfectfit”
Excitement trilled throughme. I was onlyminoringinthe Classics, but anassistantship withone of the most renowned professorsatAcheroncouldonlyhelpmeinthefuture “I’dbehonoredtobeconsidered,”Itoldhim.
Acrackof thunder rumbled across the sky, followed quicklybya brilliant white flash Seconds later, the light rainfall transitionedtoknife-pointbullets.ProfessorMorganshotmeagrin,thentuggedmyhandandstartedtorundownthepathtohis office.
Bemusedbyhisboyishnessandhatingtherain,Isprintedafterhim
WewerelaughingbythetimewereachedHippiosHallandpushedintothewarminterior.Ourshoesleftlargepuddleson theredcarpetliningthedarkwoodhallaswetrudgeddownthecorridortohisoffice
Iwastoopreoccupiedbywringingoutmyheavy,drenchedhair,stillchuckling,tonotethe snick ofthedoorlockingbehind us
“Takeaseat,please.I’llgetthewateron.Youmustbefreezing.”
Ifollowedhisgazetomychest,nipplesdaggerpointsbeneaththeclingingwetfabric.Itwasabiologicalresponsetothe cold,buthiswordssentaniggleofshamewormingthroughme AsifIshouldbeashamedhenoticedorhaddoneitpurposely toenticehim.
I opened mymouthto retort, but he was alreadyfacingaway, preoccupied withthe electric kettle beside his desk My mother had always called me combative and quickto offend. Breathe, she would tell me, pressinga hand to her ownheart. Breathe and be still.Ipressedaclammyhandtomysternumandbreatheddeepfollowingtheechoofheradvice.
Itwouldn’tdotoruinmychanceswithProfessorMorgan,notwhenIwantedtobeaprofessormyselfoneday.
“So tell me what drew you to writing about the homoerotic relationship between Patroclus and Achilles?” he started
benignly,apleasantsmileonhisfaceashetookaseatbehindhiswoodendeskandsteepledhisfingers.“Letmeguess,you read The Song of Achilles?”
Istartledovermyownlaughter “I’msurprisedyouknowaboutthatbook” Heshrugged.“Somegirlshavewrittenaboutit,butnonesointelligentlyasyou.Theyrefertothenovelmorethantheactual textofHomer’s Iliad ”
IsettledthestackofbooksinmylapasIsatdownacrossfromhim.Myold,falling-apartcopyof The Iliad wasontop,its covercracked,thepagespepperedheavilywithmyblue-inkedannotations
“IreaditforthefirsttimewhenIwaseleven,”Iexplained,thumbingthethin,damppages.“Alocalteachertookpityonme andgavemeaccesstoherlibrarybecausemyparentswouldn’tletmegetalibrarycard.IwasdrawntoitassoonasIsawthe secondarytitle‘TheWrathofAchilles’”Ishrugged,butaself-mockingsmiletwistedmylips “Anger hasalwaysresonated withmebest.”
ProfessorMorganlaughed “Whatdoesayoung,beautifulgirlhavetobesoangryabout?”
Condescending men, least of all,Ithought,butIkeptthewordslockedupbehindmybreastbone. Instead,Ilaughedlightly “You’dbesurprised Anyway,IwasfirstdrawntothetopicbecauseI’mgay”
Thewordstrippedoffmytonguelightly,skipping.I’dpracticedsayingtheminthemirror sinceIwassixandaneighbor toldmethatmenlovingmenandwomenlovingwomenwasasin.Ididn’tknow itwasn’t“normal”towanttokissPenelope Hurstonthelipsandholdherhandlikemymotherandfatherdiduntilthatmoment
Still,evenwithmyeaseofdelivery,ProfessorMorganseemedflummoxed.No,morethanthat,heseemedalmostoffended. “Notreally?”
“Quite,”Iconfirmedwithanarchedbrow.
His scrutinysharpened, a pentip tracingthe edges ofmyface and the bodybeneathmywetclothes like a cartographer mappingnewlands.Andwhathefound,hedidn’tlike.
“Well,girlsgothroughthesephasesinuniversity.It’sperfectlynormal,”heallowedwithamagnanimoussmile.
“Thankyou,”Isaid,thesarcasmthick “Ifeelmuchbetteraboutitnow”
His grinwidenedas thekettlegaveasharpcry.Hepushedoutofthechair toprepareour tea,givingmeamuch-needed momenttocollectmyself Thatalltoofamiliarfeelingpushedatmychestfromtheinside,acagedcreaturefuriouswithinits cage.
Tell him he’s a homophobic, misogynistic prick,itsgrowlingvoicedemanded. IignoreditasIhadforyears.
“ItwasclevertoincludeAchilles’enchantmentwithTroilusinyourargument,”hecontinuedcasuallyasifthetopicofmy sexualityhadn’tcomeup
“WhywouldAphroditepickamaleobjectofaffectiontotrickAchilleswithifhewashetero?”Iagreed,excitementflaring insidemeagainasIstartedtosinkmyteethintothetopicathand “HomosexualityinancientGreecewasn’tshameful Infact,it wasoftenpracticedbymalewarriors,whoareoftensymbolizedasthedefinitionofmasculinity.Ihonestlybelieveit’sonlyin moderntimesthattheideaofAchillesasagaymanrankledandwasobscured.”
“Interesting,asIsaid”ProfessorMorganflashedmethatthousand-wattsmileasheturnedtohandmealarge,crackedmug of tea. Jasmine wafted from the curling steam, and the heat of his fingers wound around mine as he pressed it into my possession Itwasanunnecessarymovebutonethatspokeofintimacy
Here, my darling, warm yourself with the tea I made for you.
Only,therewasnointimacybetweenus
Ipulledmyhandsawayquicklywithabriefsmiletoeasethesting.
ProfessorMorgandidn’tseemtonotice.Heleanedagainstthefrontofthedesk,hiscalfpressedtominebeforeImovedit, socloseIcouldsmell theoceanbrineofhiscologne Thewholelong,broadlengthofhisbodywasondisplayinthispose, likeamannequininawindowbestpositionedforadmiration.
Iduckedmyhead,hairslidingbetweenuslikeacurtainasIblewonmytea
“IwouldarguethatthefirsttextsmentioningAchillesandPatroclussaynothingofasexualbondbetweenthemandthatit wasonlylaterwhenpederastywaspracticed,asyousaid,thattheyweregivenahomosexualbias”
AndthiswaswhyIlikedhim,despitehispeacocking.Hehadasharpmindbeneathhisgoodlooks,andIenjoyedlistening tohisthoughtsunwindoutofhiseloquentmouth.
“Maybe you’re right about the sexual undertones but not the romantic ones There is a difference, and inthis case, it’s important.ThealmostberserkerragethatovercomesAchillesatPatroclus’sdeath,thewayhemournshisdeadbodyalonefor hours,andkeepsalockofhair,atypicaltokenofaffectionbetweenlovedones?Theseareallactsofamaninlove Whether ornottheyeverconsummatedthatlovedoesn’tmatter,”Iargued,passionsaturatingeveryword.Mytorsocantedforward,my lipsnumbfrommovingsofastoverthewords.
“Ah,” he said, soft, almost wonderous. “That’s something I hadn’t thought of. That’s worth thinking about.” Professor Morgansmiledatmethen,anditwasthefirstsmileIlikedallevening.Asmileofkinshipbetweentheminds.
Lookingbacknow,itwasthemomentthatcondemnedmetowhathappenednext.
“Pridegoethbeforedestruction,andahaughtyspiritbeforeafall.”
––Proverbs16:18 Lex
IT WAS HALLOWEEN.
TherewasapartyatasororityhousethatGracewastryingtodragmeto,butbeforethat,IhadameetingwithProfessor MorganatHippios Hall.Icould have ducked out.Itwas aneveningto party, notone to spendcurled up inthe chair across fromMorgan, sippingjasmine tea and talkingincessantlyaboutthe Greekclassics. Inthe weeks since I’d firstdropped my booksinthemud,theprofessorandIhaddevelopedakindoffriendship.Heseemedtorespectmylackofdesiretoflirtand fumbleasmenandwomendo,andinstead,hefocusedonconnectingwithmymind.Wemetfor teainhisofficebiweeklyto discussHomer,thenHerodotus,Aristotle,andPlato Hewrotenotesonscatteredpapersonhisdeskwhileweconversed,like mypointshadworth,andhewantedtocashtheminlaterinreferencetohisownwork.Itwasanhonortofeelsovaluedformy mindwhenmyparentshadonlyevercondemnedmeforseekingtoimproveit Iwasseduced,inaway,bytheweightheplaced onmyopinion,andIfoundmyselfrelatingtotheothergirlstitteringaroundhiminclassandinthehalls.NotbecauseIfound himhandsomethewaytheydidbutbecauseIrespectedhimandfeltherespectedmetoo.Itwas aheadything.Adangerous thing.
WhenIlookedatthosegirls,Isnickeredundermybreathwithscornfulpride.
Look at them, Ithoughtunfairly, bees to honey.
They don’t know him the way I do Andmaybetheydidn’t,butwhatasillythingpridewas.
Whataprecursortodownfall
IpromisedGraceIwouldmeetheratthepartylaterandtrampedmywayacrossthecrunchingautumnleavestomeetmy favoriteprofessorfortea Inkeepingwithtradition,Iwaswearingacostume,thoughGracehadturneduphernoseatmewhen I’dstompedoutofthebathroomwearingit.
“Really?”she’dasked.
Myhairwasdoneinthickbarrelcurlsandbraids,theendsclosedoffwithgoldencoilsshapedlikesnakes Myarmorwas onlyfauxgrayleather,acorsetandpleatedskirtliketheancientGreekswore,andgladiatorsandalsthatlacedupmycalves.I heldacheapshieldandlanceI’dboughtonline,andafakeowlwasgluedtomyshoulderstrap Athena,theGreekGoddessofWarandWisdom.
She had always resonated withme best, a female deitywithtypicallymasculine attributes She was without consort, a virgin, and bornfullyformed fromher father’s head. Iloved her sexlessness and valued her for it. She was all rational, all head,whenmostwomenweredepictedasruledbytheirheartsandguts.
“It’skindofmorescarythansexy,”mybestfriendandkindoffostersisterhadsaid,bitingherlip “Good,”I’dtoldher.
Sherolledhereyes
Regardlessoffeelingsexyornot,IfeltstrongandrightasIpassedtheothercostume-cladstudentsinthecommons.Amida seaofsexynurses,Targaryens,and Star Wars characters,Ifeltuniquelyme. “Alexandra.”
IturnedtoseePresidentMinaPallaswavingatmefromaconvergingpathwaysoIwaitedforhertoapproach.Whenshe did,sheleanedclosetogivemeahug
Moststudentswouldn’thavehuggedthePresidentofAcheronU,butIwasfairlyuncommon.MinawasthereasonI’dbeen acceptedtotheuniversityatall,andIowedhereverything
“Ilovethecostume,”shesaid,beautifulfacecreasedwithlaughter.Shewasmiddle-aged,butyou’dhardlyknowtolookat her.Softblondhairfelltohershoulders,highlightingthecream-tonedsmoothnessofhercheeksandthebrightnessofherblue eyes.Shewasclassicallyelegantandrefined,everythingI’dalwaysadmired. Shewasmyhero.
ThefirstfemalepresidentofAcheronever andoneofthemostacclaimedacademicsinthecountry
“Thankyou,”Isaid,tryingtoignoretheheatinmycheeks.“Itakeitfacultymembersdon’tseefittodressup.” Herlaughterwassomelodious,Iswayedslightlytowardher “Notexactlyprofessional,no.Still,it’salwaysfuntoseethestudentsenjoyingsomuch.IfIremembercorrectly,youwere Cleopatralastyear?”
“Ican’tbelieveyou’drememberthat”
Minasqueezedmybicep,afamiliarmovethatmademychestlightupliketheFourthofJuly.“Oh,Ialwayskeepaneyeon ourbrighteststudents ProfessorMorganwastellingmejusttheotherdaythathewantstoofferyouhisassistantship” Euphoriaclappedthroughmelikelightning.“Areyouserious?”
Another amused chuckle “I never joke about academics I’mproud of you, Alexandra When we first met, I thought I sensedakindredspirit,butoverthepastthreeyears,you’veprovenyourworthagainandagain.Myscholarshipcouldn’thave gonetoamoredeservingwoman.”
Faced withher praise, Ifeltmomentarilysickwithjoy Itoverloaded mysystemuntil Iwas dizzy, nauseated byrolling wavesofhappinessmovingthroughme.
“Thankyou,”Isaidbreathlessly,feelingmorelikeafangirlthanIeverhadinmylife I’dneverhadanyonetomakeproud ofme, notwhenmyparents’idea ofa good daughter would have stayed home inthe mountains ofVirginia tendingto their homestead “I’mhonoredyouthinkso”
“Yes,well,keepupthegoodwork.”Shemovedherhandfrommybiceptoelbowanddowntomyhand,whichsheheldfor a moment before releasing. It sent sparkles of lust and idolized worship spiraling through my bloodstream. “Have a good evening”
“Youtoo,”Icalledoutafteramomentofdumbmutenesswhenshehadalreadycontinuedonherpath.
Sheshotasmileoverhershoulder,theweakautumnlightbreakingthroughthecloudcovertoshineoverherblondhead I shiveredalittle,standingtherelookingafterher.Thesurrealnatureofhavingadreamcometrueneverfailedtodazeme,andI tookamomenttoletitsettlearoundmelikeamantle,heavyandwarmovermyshoulders.
HernamewasthefirstthingIspokewhenIpracticallyskippedintoProfessorMorgan’soffice,thewordstumblingoffmy tongue as Iexplainedhow Ibumpedintothe president.He laughedatmyenthusiasm,walkingaroundthe desktooffer me a
congratulatoryhug.
Idroppedmyshieldandlancetoreturntheembrace,stillchatteringwithenthusiasm,sohappyIclungamomentlongerthan Iwouldhave
“Canyoubelieveit?”Idemanded,releasinghimeventhoughhedidn’treleasemefully,hishandsfallingtotheindentation beneathmyribsabovethecurveofmyhips “MinaPallastoldmeshedidn’tknowanyonemoredeservingofherscholarship” Ipulledawayfromhimtospininacircle,skirtflaring,beforefallingintothechairIusuallyoccupied.“IthinkIcouldfloat awayonmyhappiness”
Morganchuckled,watchingmewithasoftsmile,eyeswarmandbright.“Itmakesmehappytoseeyousohappy.You’re usuallyarathersubduedgirl.”
“True,”Iagreedeasily “‘ThoughIamofteninthedepthsofmisery,thereisstillcalmness,pureharmony,andmusicinside me.’”IquotedVanGoghwithasmile.“Ifeeljoy.Itjusttakesalottobringitoutofme.”
“Whatafascinatinggirlyouare,”hepraised,reachingforwardtosqueezemyknee “Ifindmyselfabitobsessedwithwhat mightcomeoutofyourlovelymouthnext.”
Itwas a vaguelysexualized comment, butIbelieved itwas comingfroma good place, so Ibeamed athim “Well, your guessisprobablyasgoodasmine.IfindIlackafiltermostofthetime.”
“I’venoticed,”hesaiddrolly,squeezingmykneeoncemorebeforemovingtohislittlestationtuckedbetweenhisrowsand rowsofbooks “Tea?”
“Oh,yes,please.”
“It’sHalloween Whatdoyousayweaddadropofwhiskeyforgoodluckandwarmth?”heaskedoverhisshoulder,his expressionbrokenupwithaffection.
Itfeltsounaccountably good tohavethepraiseoffirstMinaPallasandthenDylanMorgan.Itwateredthatfallowfieldin mysoulwheremymotherandfather’saffectionshouldhavegerminatedasachildandsproutedintorichharvests.
“Whynot?”Ishruggedandreachedacrossthedeskforthenotepadcoveredinhisdarkscrawlonhisdesk.Hewasn’tshy aboutsharinghisworkwithme,andIlovedtoreadtheinnerworkingsofhisbrain “You’vemadeprogressonyourbook!”
“Ihave,”heagreed.“Talkingitoutwithyouandsomeofmycolleagueshasbrokenthatdamnedwriter’sblock.”
“I’mastonishedIwasanyhelp”Thengiddyandunfamiliarwiththisleveloflightnessinmysoul,Ileveledhimwithasly grin.“ThoughPresidentPallasmighthavementionedyouwerethinkingaboutmeforyourassistantshipnextsemester?”
His laughter was richand straightfromthe belly. He was more relaxed around me now. There was no more posingand posturing,oratleast,notasmuch.Helaughedeasilyanddidn’tmindsharinghisdoubtsandweaknesses.Seeingsuchaproud, powerfulfigurebetotallyhumanwasoddlyhumblingandintoxicating.
Whenhehandedmemycustomarymugoftea,crackednear thehandleandchippedattherim,Iaccepteditwithasmile eventhoughmycheekshurt,unusedtotheexpression.
“Sheshouldn’thavesaidanything”Hisvoicewasmocksincere,buttherewerecreasesbesidehiseyesashelookeddown atme.“IwantedtobetheonetotellyouthatImademydecision.”
“And?”
“And Iwouldliketoformallyofferthejobtoyou,Lex”
Myhandtrembledwiththeefforttobeprofessionalandnotflingmyselfintohisarms.Instead,Iliftedmyshakingcupto cheerswithhis “AndIhumblyaccept”
Weclinkedglassesanddrankthespikedteainunison.Itburnedgoingdown,anacridtasteburiedbeneaththealcohol.
“Ithinkit’stimeforanewtinofjasmine,”Itoldhim,mynosescrunchedwithdistaste Hechuckled,watchingmeashesippedfromhisownmug.“Ibrewedittoobitter.I’msorry.Butdrink,youcan’tbewarm inthatgetupaftercrossingcampus.”
“Ican’tstaylong IpromisedmyfriendIwouldmeetherataparty” Hegrinned.“Youdon’tseemveryenthused.You’rewhat,twenty?Mostkidsareheretoparty,notstudy.”
“I’mnot”
“No,”heagreed,lookingmeoveragain.“No,you’renot.You’drathercurlupherewithme,wouldn’tyou?”
“I’dratherbemostplacesthanataparty,”Iadmittedwithagrimacebeforetakinganothersipofteaanddoingjustashe said,curlingmylegsupinthechair.“ButIdoenjoyourchats.It’snotoftenIgettospeakwithsomeonewithsomanyofthe sameinterests.”
“Boysyouragedon’tlikeSocrates?”heteased “Ormostgirls,”Iremindedhimwithaflatlook.
EventhoughheknewIwasalesbian,hestrugglednottorefertomeinrelationtomen
I bet you ’ re popular with the boys in class.
I see the way men on campus look at you
Agirl like you probably has to keep them away with a bat. Your father must own a shotgun.
Itwasirritating,andIneverlethimgetawaywithitwithoutreiteratingmypreferenceforfemaleromanticcompany.Butit wasn’tenoughtototallyputmeoff,especiallywhenalotofpeopleseemedtostrugglewithwomenlikingwomen.Especially if we only liked women Bisexual women were often unfairly sexualized and objectified by men, but at least they were “understandable”inthemalemind.Understandableandstillfuckableifthemoodstruckthem.
Pigs,thelotofthem
Morganfrownedatme,crossinghisarms.“Really,Lex.Youcan’tpossiblybesayingyouaren’tinterestedinmenatall?”
Imatchedhisexpression,straighteninginmychair “Ican,andIam Menholdnointerestformeromanticallyorsexually Honestly,youaretheonlymanI’minterestedin,evenplatonically.Ilovewomen.”
“Clearly, youhave some daddyissues,” he said inthat smugwayacademics were all capable of, like miningtexts for meaninghadgiventhemlicensetomineother’smindsinthesamefashion
Ibristled, anger sparkinglow inmygut, warmingme better thanthe bitter tea. “Do I? IthinkIhave parental issues. My father and mymotherdidn’tbelieveineducation,andIwasbornwiththisthirstforitIcouldn’tevenbegintoquenchatour farminthemountains.Weownedfourbooks,andtwoofthoseweredifferentversionsoftheBible.Theydidn’tgetme,sothey didn’tlikeme AfterIranawayfromhomeforthefourthtime,theydidn’tbotherlookingforme
“Anddoyouknowwhotookmein,Professor?AwomannamedAgathaGorgonwiththreedaughtersofherown.Theytook meintotheirhomeandmademeoneofthem.Theytaughtmewhatnurturefeltlikeandhoweasyitshouldbetobelovedand accepted Agatha gave me a mother’s love for the firsttime inmylife, and she gave me three incredible sisters Whenshe foundoutthatattendingAcheronwas mylife dream,she introducedme toMina Pallas,her childhoodbestfriend.Andnow, hereIam”
Iopenedmyarmswide,andMorganlookedmeover,everyinch,endingwithhisgazelockedonmine.Imetitstubbornly, willfully. Judge me,Ithought. I don’t care what you think.
Butthetruthwas,Idid.
IlovedAgatha,IlovedGraceandEffieandJuno.
ButI’dneverhadanyonetoreplacetheloveIshouldhavehadfrommyfather UntilMorgan.
SoIcared,andwhenhebentforwardtocupmycheek,Ilethim Ilethim,andIleanedintotheaffection “Iwonderedaboutthesadnessonyourface,”hesaidsoftly.“It’shardtoimaginewhysuchabeautifulgirlcouldbesosad, butIunderstandnow.You’veneverhadamantreatyouright,haveyou,sweetLex?”
Ididn’tanswer.Myheartwasbeatingtoofast,mybreathcomingtooshallow.Theheatofmyangerbeneathmyskinfelttoo great,likeaballoonoverfilledandabouttoburst.
“It’shotinhere,”Itoldhim,butmylipswerenumb
“Really?”heasked,smilinggently,hisfacesocloseitwasallIcouldsee.HewashandsomeliketheRomanstatuesthey hadondisplayintheHeleneArtHall,butIdidn’tlikehiscalloushandsonmyfaceandthemuskofhismalenessinmynose “Ithink,IthinkImightneedsomeair,”Itriedtosay,butmytonguewasthickanddryinmymouth.“I’mthirsty.”
“Drinksome tea,” he encouraged, wrappinga bigpalmaround mine onmymugto help me raise the drinkto mylips. “Goodgirl”
Uneaseshiveredthroughme,andmystomachcramped.
“Idon’tfeelright,”Imumbled,themugfallingfrommysuddenlyineffectivehandtothePersianrug,whereitbrokealong theseamofthecrackwithagentle pop.
Itwasdarkoutside,theroomonlylitbythewarmgoldenlightofthetasklamponMorgan’sdeskandthestandingshaded lampinthecorner.Itmadehimseembigger,loomingovermelikeamonster.
“Morgan, please, Ineed to get outside,” Ireached up to tryto pryhis hand offmyface, to pushhimaway, but he only crowdedmecloser
“Hushnow,sillygirl,”hemurmured,haulingmeupoutofthechairintohisarms,mybreastspressedtohischest,onearm bandedovermylowerbacktoholdmetohim “Letmeteachyouwhatit’sliketobelovedbyaman”
“No,”Ibreathed,soshockedbyhisintent,Ialmostcouldn’tprocessit.“No!” How couldthis behappening,Iwondered,oddlydisassociatedfrommybodyas hebenthis headtokiss myneck?How couldIhavebeensooblivious?
Later, Iwould be disgusted bymyownnaïvety, a sheep led so easilyto the slaughter, butatthe moment, Iwas stuckon Morgan’sbetrayal BecauseI’dtrustedhim.
ThefirstmaninmylifetoearnthatsincemyfatherlostitwhenIwasonlyagirl Ithoughtabouteveryconversationwe’dhadasIstoodstuckinthecageofmymind,unabletomoveasMorganlaidmeout onhis deskand beganto violate me withmeticulous, almostgentle purpose. Ithoughtabouthow he’d told me Iwas smart beyondmyyears,thathecouldn’twaittoseemynameinacademicjournals.Abouthowkindhe’dbeenwhenI’dconfessedI sufferedfrominsomniabeforeexams,howhe’dsuggestedmeditationandmelatonin.Abouthowhe’dsmileatme,truesmiles,
smilesthatseemedsomuchmorethanwhatheflashedlikecurrencyinhisclassrooms.Abouthowhemademefeelspecial. Abouthowhe’dmademefeelloved.
Howbitterly,horrificallyironicthathewaspervertingthatlovenow Whisperingwordsabouthow beautifulIwasashe torethroughme,abouthowperfectIwasforhimtouselikethis.Abouthowhe’dchangemymindaboutlovingwomen.Ijust neededtoliestillandtakeit
Icried.
Oh,Icouldfeelthetearsonmycheek,coldandpainfulonmyskinbeforetheyfelloffmycheekontothepapershe’dbeen gradingonhisdesk.
Hesmelledlikeparchmentandclovecigarettes,likesweatandman. Itmademegag,andatonepoint,Ivomitedonthedesk
Hemovedmyragdollformfartherawayfromthestainandcontinued.
Afterthefirsttime,hetookabreak,lightingacigarettebesidetheopenwindowbehindhisdesk Iwatchedthesmokecurl andfade intonothingas itblew throughthe crack,andIthoughtwoodenlyabouthow Iwas thatsmoke.Somethingusedand discardeddissipatingintonothingness
Hespoketome,butIdidn’thearhim.
And whenIdidn’trespond, somethinginhimseemed to break. The zipper onhis sheep’s clothingfell cleanaway, and whenhecameformethesecondtime,itwasthewolfwhoclosedhisteetharoundmyneck Atonepoint,Ipassedout,andmylastthoughtwasthatIhopedIneverwokeup.
“Idonotexist.Thereisnothingleft.”
––EuripidesfromHekabe
Lex
I WOKE UP, AND MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS THIS: I wish I was dead
The pain was so layered, I could not find its beginning or end. Like an ouroboros eating its own tail. There was the physicalacheineverymusclefromfighting,fromtheresidueofdrugsinmysystem,andtheburn,ohGodtheburn,betweenmy legs.Itwassomuchthatitseemedtoechoeveninmyhairfollicles,evenintherootsofmyteeth.
Butno,itwasn’tthatferocious,bone-chewingpainthatpromptedthatfirstthought Itwasthespiritualchasmthathadbeencarvedoutofmychest.
AsifProfessorMorganhadstolennotjustmyvirginity,buttheveryessenceofmysoul.Punchinghishandthroughmyrib cagetowrenchitfreefrommyform
Ifelthorrifyinglyempty.Everythinginsidemewas onlyanecho.Evenmonths later,whenpeopleexpectedmeto“move on” and “be whole again,” I relied on those echoes to prompt me to act normally To fit in, or at the very least, not be committedtothementalward,whereImighthavehonestlybelonged.
Itsurprisedpeople,lateron,thefewpeopleItold,atleast,thatIdidn’tcrythen.
Buthumanscry.
Itwasanemotionalresponseandaphysicalprompt.
Iwasn’thumananymore,notafterthat,notinmyownthoughts.
Itdidn’thelpthathe’dleftmeinthewoodslikethebloodycarcassofdiscardedprey Thewoods,thewoods.
I’dlovedthemsomuchbefore
RaisedinthemountainousforestsofVirginia,Irememberedthescentofwhitepinesandhardwoodsasthefragranceofmy youth,thesoftspringofdampmossbeneathbarefeetasIchasedmytwobrothersthroughtheshadowedcanopy Thewoods hadalways broughtsolace to me inthe same waythe pious soughtsanctuaryina church. Itwas where Icouldletdownmy shields,shedthearmorofmyanger,andopenmysensestotheworldaroundme.ItwaswhereIfoundthecouragetoseekout peace
Andnow,itwasthesettingofatragedy.
For amoment,Ithoughtaboutstayingthere,cold,bloody,andtrembling Lettingdeathandtheforestovertakeandenfold meintotheearththewayOscarWildeoncespokeof.
MaybeIwouldhave,butforthesnake
Anominoushollowrattlesoundedsomewheretomyleft,drawingmygazeeventhoughIhadtoturnmyachinghead,cheek pressedtothedampmoss.IsuckedinasharpbreaththatachedinmyribswhenIsawtheTimberrattlesnake.
ItwaslateforthemtobeactiveandraretoseetheminMassachusetts,wheretheywereconsideredendangered Yetthere itlay,coiledandsunningitselfonarockinashaftofsunlightpiercingthroughthetrees.Itwasafew feetlonganddark,the zigzagdesignover its scales black, darkbrown, and faintlygreen Irecognized itfromgrowingup inVirginia, avoidingthe faintrattleandrollwhenIplayedintherockyforeststheyseemedtoprefer.
TimberrattlesnakeswerearguablythemostvenomoussnakesintheUnitedStates.
Andthisonewasthreefeetfromme,itsflat,triangularheadhoveringabovetheground,tongueflickering.
MaybeIwasstillhighfromthedrugs.Maybemymindhadbrokenalongwitheverythingelse.
Butsomethinghappenedtomeatthatmoment
Lockingeyeswithasnakeasifwecouldcommunicateandcommune.
Here was a creature everyone feared, a beingsomeone wouldn’t thinktwice about fuckingover I read once that more peoplewerekilledbybeesthansnakes,yetwefearedthelattersomuchwe’dwrittenthemasvillainousandominoussymbols inbooks for centuries.Theywereanobjectofpower,smaller thanus,easilyavoided,yetsofearsomejustthesightofthem madepeoplerecoil.
Ididn’trecoilthen.
Ilaystillandsilentasthatbeautifulserpentunraveledacrossthespacebetweenus,undulatinglikearibboninthewind It will kill me,Ithought,chokingonterrorandreliefinthesamebreath. Butitdidn’t
ThesnakeslidovermeasifIwasasunthreateningandinconsequentialasdebrisontheforestfloorlikeafelledlogoran overturnedrock.Itstongueflickeredsoftlyagainstthebareskinofmybellyasitslitheredovermytorso,bodycoolastextured silk,anddowntheothersideofme Withoutthought,myhandraisedandloweredoverthelengthofitstail,justasofttouch, myfingerstrippingoverthescalesuntilitwasgoneandallIfeltwasmyownskin.
Myeyesburned,andmybreathcamehotandfast,pluminginthecoldair IfIcouldhavecriedthen,Iwouldhave Becausesomehow,thesnakefeltlikeagift.
Apromise
Thatsomeday,someway,I’dbeabletomoveonfromthishorror shedmyoldskinandberebornsomethingstronger. Somethingpowerfulandterrifying.
AllthedarknessIusedtowearbeneathmyskinwouldbecomemyshieldandmyarmorwhileallthegoodness––orwhat littleremained––I’dhidedeepwithinliketheminotauratthecenterofanendlessmaze.
AstherattleoftheTimberfaded,Isuckedinadeep,agonizingbreath AndIstood.
Itwastooearlyforclass,dawnjustbrokenopenoverthegroundslikeaspillofyellow-orangeyolk.Therewasnooneto seemedragmyselfdownthecobbledpathways,ablood-splatteredtrail ofbreadcrumbsinmywake.Noonetoseetheway mykneesknockedandmyhandsquivered.Iwasmostlynaked,myskirthangingaskewovermyhipsbyonebutton,mywhite blouseshreddedbystronghandsflappinglikeawhiteflagofsurrenderovermybruisedbreasts
Thedoortothehallwasunlocked,alow murmurofvoicesgreetingmeonarushofcentrallyheatedairasIstruggledto pullopenthedoor Somethingwasbrokeninmyhand,andIcouldfeelthepainandwrongnessofashatteredcollarboneinmy leftshoulder.
Thecorridorwasempty,butdoorswerecrackedopenasfacultyporedovermorninglessonplansandsippedtheirstartof daycoffeesandteas.
ProfessorMorgan’sdoorwasclosed,butIdidn’tletthatstopme. Itthuddedopenwithadull thwack
Ididn’thaveaplan.Ididn’thavemuchinmybrainatallbesidestatichurtandfearandrage,ragethatbegantoburnitall clearaway,butIwasn’treallyexpectinghimtobethere Andhewas.
SittinginhisgreatbackedleatherchairinablazerwithsuedeelbowpatchesdrinkingoutofhisfavoriteHamletmug.His hair wasstill dampfromamorningshower,curlingaroundthecollar ofhisOxfordshirt,andhe’dnickedhimselfshaving,a littlecutontheedgeofhiscleanjaw.
Asifthesightofhimwasn’tenough,theinsultofhiscleanlinesscompoundedhowdisgustingIfelt,howrottenhe’dmade mefeelstraightdowntothecore.
Andthentherewasher
Thegirlsittinginmyusualseatofpalelemonvelvetwithamugofjasminetearaisedhalfwaytoherredlips.
Inasingleinstant,whateverremainedofmyhumanitywaslosttothevoracious,all-consumingragethatpossessedmelike ahelldemon
Ilaunchedmyselfathimwithacrythattoreupmyalreadydamagedthroat.Itleftbileandthemetallictangofbloodonthe backofmytongue,butIdidn’tnotice
MyfocuswasonProfessorMorgan.
Themonsterthathadturnedmemonstrouswithpainandfury
Ilandedpartlyoverhisdesk,dislodginghiscomputerandbooks,slidingacrossthesurfacewithenoughmomentumthatmy fisthittheedgeofthatclean-shaven,nickedjawlikeananvil.Hishead snapped totheside,bloodsprayingovermychinfrom thewayhebitintohistongueattheimpact Histeacupshatteredonthefloor,thescentofjasminestrongenoughtomakeme gag.
Nails ripped across his cheek, gouginglongtracks, fleshlodgedunder mygreen-paintedtalons. He startedto fightback, tryingtofindleveragewherehewas caughtbetweenhis desk,mybody,andthewall athis back,butnothingatthatmoment couldhavestoppedmeshortofdeath
Thegirlscreamedandscreamedbehindme,butnotasloudlyasI’dscreamedlastnight.
Bythetimesomeonedraggedmeoffhim,ProfessorMcDreamy’sfamousprettyfacewasstreakedwithbloodandswollen whereI’dbruisedhim.Hecursedmewithatonguetoothickinhismouth,brokenbyhisteethandmyfists.
Icouldn’thearanythingbuttheroarofbloodinmyearsurgingmetotakemore Therewassomethingfranticallycertainin methatifIlostmyangerandgavewaytosadness,Imightveryhonestlydieandneverbereborn.
“AlexandraGorgon.”
ThesoundofmynamespokenbysuchafamiliarvoiceloosenedtheteethofmyfuryenoughthatIcouldturnmyheadtosee thedoorwayfilledwithbodies,intheforefrontPresidentMinaPallas.
Ialmostdidn’trecognizeher Notbecauseofthefogofmyowncolossalire,butbecauseofherown
Shewaslivid.Facecontortedgrotesquelywithdisgustedrage,herslimbodysuddenlyhugeandloomingwithaggression allaimedat
Atme.
Iblinked,disorientatedsuddenly.Weakandwoozy.
“Whatintheworlddoyouthinkyou’redoing?”shedemanded,stormingforwardtotakemebythechinlikeahookthrough thegulletofafish.Myheadwaswrenchedbackandup,painexplodingbehindmyeyes.
Somethinglikeawhimperleakedthroughmythroat
“Mina,”someonemurmuredbehindme,thepersonholdingmyarmsbehindmybacktorestrainme.“Wait,amoment.She’s clearlybeenattacked.”
Shedidn’tlisten.
“What do you think you’re doing attacking a teacher? Attacking Professor Morgan?” She said it like I’d committed blasphemy LikeshewassecondsawayfromexcommunicatingmefromtheonlychurchI’deverknown
“H-Heattackedme,”Ifoundthestrengthtocoughupthewordsthatsatlikerocksinmygut.“Lastnight,hedruggedmeaandherapedme”
Theword rape echoedinthesilencethatfollowed.Iwonderedifitwouldalwaysbestuckinmyhead,asongonrepeatI wanteddesperatelytoignore.
“Ididnosuchthing,” Morgansnapped,standingandshakingoffthe tendingarmofa womanIrecognizedas a first-year anatomyprofessor.“IwaswithMoniqueFournierallnight,wasn’tI,darling?”
Theanatomyprofessorblinkedbehindhercat-eyeglassesandthennoddedslowly “Yes,ofcourse”
“Ofcourse.”ThegirlseatedacrossfromhimwhenIenteredbrokefreeofthecrowdandsneeredatme.“You’repathetic foraccusinghimofsomethingsohorrible”
“Nowwait,”thewomanholdingmeargued,looseningherholdonmetosteptomyside.IrealizeditwastheDeanofLaw, Professor DianaStrong.“Whether or notitwasMorgan,thisgirl hasclearlybeenassaulted.Someonecall thedamncampus andlocalpolice Getanambulancehere”
Iswayedonmyfeetnow thatshewasn’tholdingmeup,butsheleanedintome,offeringthesupportofhershoulder.She smelledofpineneedles WhenIturnedmyheadtovomitviolently,sheheldbackmyhairwhileorderingsomeoneelsetofetch herthegarbagecan.
“Really, Mina,” Morganwas saying, holdingout his hands, palms up as if insurrender “You’ve knownme for twenty years.WouldIreallydosomethingsoawful?Nottobecrass,butIhardlyneedtoforcemyselfonsomeyounggirl.”
Ichokedonbile,theonlythingleftinmystomachasIwretchedagainintothepail. Someoneatthedoorwasusheringeveryoneoutandclosingitintheirfaces Suddenly,theideaofbeinginaclosedroomwithMorganwastoomuch.
“Ineedtogetoutofhere,”Imurmured,tryingtopullawayfromProfessorStrong “Notyet,”shehissed,justforme.“Wait,I’vegotyou.”
Itrembledsostronglyinherholdthatshehadtoholdmealoft,butIstayedstill Ididn’thavetheautonomythentodisobey theordersoftheonlypersonwhoseemedtobelieveme.
“We’llneedtotakeProfessorFournier’sstatementforthepolice,Dylan,”PresidentPallassaid,draggingahandoverher faceinexhaustionbeforeturningaglaremyway “Though,ofcourseIbelieveyou Whathappened,Lex?Didhedecidenotto giveyoutheassistantship,andyoulashedout?”
Awhimpergotcaughtinmythroatandturnedintoaharshgrowl “Iwouldnever” Icouldn’tbelieveshewouldthinkthatofme.TheknifeMorganhadstuckinmybacktwistedunderherhand.Howcould thetwomentorsI’dlovedsomuch,sopurely,betraymelikethis?
Theagonyofitallcrashedintome.Blackspotsdancedinfrontofmyeyes,butIheldontotheangertightly,myonlybuoy adriftinthisseaofunendingagony.
“He did this,” Itold PresidentPallas––Mina, the womanwho had takenme under her wing, givenme a scholarship and guidance––becauseIcouldn’taddress Morgan,notdirectly,notwhenitremindedmeofhis eyes ashepressedintome.“He didthistome Ididn’taskforit I’mnoteven ”Isqueezedmyeyesshut “I’mnotinterestedinmen Heknewthat,a-andhe still did this. You have to believe me. You know me. You know I wouldn’t fabricate such a horrible story. You know I couldn’t ”Igesturedtomybody,war-tornandbloodied “Dothistomyself” Minastaredatme,her eyes sharpas scalpels cuttingthroughmybodylikeamorticianthroughacorpse’s chest.“Idon’t knowthat Idon’tknowthatatall Girlsdofoolishthingsforloveallthetime” Forlove.
Mykneesgaveout,butDianaStrongheldmetightbymyelbows.Isuckedabreathpastmyteetheventhoughitscorched myscream-tornthroatandhurtmyribs I’dlovedProfessorMorganinmyownway.Itwastrue.
Likeafather Likeamentor LikesomeonewhowouldalwaysgivemeahandifIneededhelptostand
OnlyIwaspracticallyonmykneesandneitherMorgannorMinawerehelpingmeup.Theyseemedcontent,no,determined toseemecrushedbeneaththeheelofwhathe’ddonetome
“Please,”IwhisperedtoMina,andtheyfeltlikelastwordsspokentoapriest.Ifshedidn’tbelieveme,Ihonestlythought atthatmomentImightreallydie.“Please,hedidthistome.Ineedyourhelp.”
“Pathetic,”Morganscoffed,andInoticedhewassittinginhisfuckingchairagain,dabbingthebloodonhischeekwitha handkerchief.“Really,MissGorgon,thisisbeneathevenyou.”
“Iwillnottakeyouatyourword,”thePresidentofAcherontoldme,loomingovermelikeadarkcloudabouttodelivera tempest. “There will be aninvestigation, and until youare cleared ofsuspicion, youare onacademic suspension. Youwill leavecampusimmediately,andyouwillnotreturnunlessoruntilyouarereinstated.” “What?”Igasped,butitwasthefinalblow.
Thelossofmybodilyautonomy,thelossofmyidolsinMorganandMina,thelossofmyprideandsenseofsecurity. Andnow,thelossofmylifedream ThelossofAcheronU.
Beforeanyonecouldsayanotherword,myeyesrolledupinmyhead,andIpassedout
“Vengeanceismine,andIshallrepay.” Tolstoy
“Herhairwaslong, Herfootwaslight, Andhereyeswerewild.”
––JohnKeats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Luna
IT WAS THE THIRD WEEK OF TERM, AND EVERYONE WAS STILL WHISPERING ABOUT HER. LexGorgon
ThegirlwhowasrapedandtriedtoblameitonProfessorMorganlastyear. Oh,mostpeopledidn’tknowthesecondpart,butIdidbecausemymotherwasthePresidentofAcheronU.
I’dneverforgetherfacewhenshecamehomethatnight,thealmostblindfurycontortingherfeatures.She’dbeeninarage, yellingintothephoneasshestormedintothehousestraighttoherofficewheresheshutthedoorwitha bang. Ishouldn’thavebeenhome
Iwassupposedtobeoutwithmyfriendsfromthefieldhockeyteamatsomepartyoneofthesororityhouseswasthrowing, butIwasboredbytheendofthepre-drinkatCourtney’shouse,soI’ddecidedtoheadhome
SoMomdidn’tknowIwasaroundtohearher,andhavingneverheardhersoangrybefore,Itookadvantage.Thethirdstair tomybasementsuitecreaked,soIskippedit,slinkingupthecaseandthehallwaytolurkbehindhercloseddoor.
“Weneedlegalonthis now,”shegroundoutoverthefaintthudofherpacingfootsteps.“Thisisatotalshitshow.Morgan isaFulbrightscholar,forfuck’ssake.HisbookonPoseidonwasabloody New York Times bestseller.Hebringsmoremoney totheClassicsprogramthananyotherfacultycombined Wecannotaffordtolosehimtoscandal,letaloneonelikethis”
Therewasalongpause,andthen,“Idon’tknow,Mary,Ireallydon’t.IneverwouldhavethoughtAlexandraGorgonwas the kindofgirl tolie soflagrantly,butobviously,Iwas mistaken” Along,shakensigh “Yes,Isaw her She was she was brutalized.ButitwasnotbyMorgan.ProfessorMoniqueFourniertoldmeshewaswithhimallnight,andyouknowthosetwo havebeenonandoffforawhilenow No,whateverhappenedtoMs Gorgonwasdonebysomeoneelse
“Well,obviouslyhe’ddecidedtopassheroverfortheassistantship,”Momargued.“Thelittle,ungraciousbitchdecidedto usetheage-oldplayofcryingrape.”
Iflinched,nearlyfallingonmyassinthecorridor I’dneverheardmymothercursesomuch,nevercouldhaveimagined thevitriolinhertonewhileshespokeaboutsexualassaultagainstawoman.
EvenifLexGorgonhadn’tbeenattackedbyProfessor Morgan, she had still beena victimofa heinous crime Ilearned laterthatherattackerleftherintheforestbehindcampus,broken,bloodied,andtornattherootsofagnarledtreelikesome ancient pagan sacrifice So how could Momlack sympathy for her? How, having seen her brutalized, could she not find forgivenessinherheartforatwenty-year-oldgirlwhowastakenagainstherwill?
Acrackopenedinsidemysoulathearingmymotherspeaklikethat,likesomehowthestudenthaddeservedsuchtreatment. Acrack that split straight through the hero worship I’d harbored for mysuperstar mother all these years The first sign of seriouserosioninthetotalloveandadulationI’dclungtoevenasI’dgrownupandwitnessedhowflawedshecouldbe.She was a single mother who’d made the decisionto have a babywitha spermdonor I’d onlyever knownher, relied onher, trusted hertosetmyworldviewsforme.
I’dfeltconcussedbyherwords,mindringing,worldbreakingintopartslikeakaleidoscope.
Itwastenmonthsafter theincidentthatrockedAcheron.Though,itwashushedupsopoorlythatthreadsofscandal still webbedthehalls,catchingstudentsupinitssnare.
“Iheardshegotwhatshedeserved,”someonesaidinthehallonedayonmywaytomyRussianHistoryseminar “Shewas gaggingforallhermaleprofessors.Everyoneinherclassesknewit.”
Mystomachclutchedandwobbledlikeanopenandclosedfist
“Youcantell just bylookingat her,” a guyonthe soccer teamsaid onthe sidelines ofGodwinField ComplexwhenI joggedbyonmywaytopractice.“She’ssexontwolegs.She’sprobablyintothatfucked-upshit.”
Itwasimpossibletoescapethetoxicwhispers.Oh,Iheardsomepeoplesympathizewithher,butnotmany.Notenough.
I’d never really noticed Lex Gorgon before the rumors, but when she appeared on the first day of termfollowing the incident,myeyesweredrawntoheralongwitheveryoneelse’s
Iwassittinginthecommons,proppedbetweenHaley’slegsdoingsomereadingformyHistoryofWarfareclass,whenthe energyinthequadwentthickandstill,liketheatmospherebeforeatropical stormbroke Florastoppedtalking,Haleywent stiffbehindme,andKenziedroppedtheappleshewaseatingstraightintoherlap.
Iknew shewastherebeforeIevenlookedup.Curiosityhookedmethroughthemouth,urgingmetoraisemyheadtosee whateveryoneelsesaw Butapartofmehesitated Ifeltastrangeneedtogiveherprivacy,toavertmygazewheneveryone elsewasmakingheranobjectofpublicconsumption.
How vulnerable must she feel, Ithought, the words oftextbeneathmygaze blurringas myeyes watered withsympathy She hadalreadybeentornbythe hands ofsome vile monster masqueradingas a man,andnow againinthe courtofpopular opinion Ifithadbeenme––Ishudderedatthethought––Iwouldhavetransferredschools Maybeevenchangedmyname Yethereshewas,facingdownthefiringsquad.
“Wow,”Haleybreathed,thewordalmostpulledfromherinvoluntarily. Ilostmybattle,andonashakyinhale,IlookedupatLexGorgon
I’donlyhadavagueimpressionofherbeforetheincident,andwhenI’dthoughttolookheruponsocialmedia,shewasn’t there SoallIhadinmymemorywasaprettyface,darkhair,andafull,sullenmouth Thatwasn’twhatIsaw. WhatIsawwasawoman
Notevenagirl,notlikethegirlsbesidemeinthefieldhockeykitsbecausewehadpracticelaterthatday,notthepimplyfaced freshmengainingfifteenpounds withoutthe scrutinyoftheir mothers, notthe fresh, eager smiles and giggles ofnewly independentboysandgirls Awoman.
It was hard to explain why I was suddenly breathless at the sight of her Oh, she was lushly curved, deep hand holds betweentaperedribsandflaredhips,shapelylegsbaredbeneathashortblackskirt,andleatherbootslacedtomid-calf.Her breasts were obvious beneathher conservativelybuttoned blackblouse, but theywould have beenobvious inanythingshe wore,heavy,buthighwithyouth.Itwasmorethanhercoloring,whichwasstriking,thepaleeyesbeneathdark,archedbrows and thicklashes, the sun-warmed, almond darkcomplexion, and all thathair, a curlymass ofblackthatwrithed around her
head like darkserpents inthe wind. Itwasn’teventhe snakes themselves, tattooed onher forearms peekingoutfromrolled cuffs,oneonherthroat,lickingatherpulsepoint,anothertwocurlingdownthelengthofonestrongthighlikelovers.
Allofthatwasgood,betterthangood Itwas delicious
AndevenasIthoughtit,IwonderedhowIcouldthinksuchathingaboutsomeone,letaloneawoman.Thatshewasedible, worthyofdroolingover,capableofsatiatingmysuddenhunger
Butagain,thatwasn’twhyIfeltbreathlesslookingatheracrossthequad.
It was more this: She stood straight, evenly braced on both feet It was an odd pose for a young woman, who usually cocked a hip or fluctuated fromfoot to foot. She was still and poised, her chintilted up toward the sun. She was posing, flauntingthefactthatshekneweveryeyewasonher.
Look at me,sheseemedtosay Look at me I have nothing to hide
Andevenmoreintoxicating, I have nothing to say. You aren’t worthy of my notice.
Haley’s“wow”wasright
“Isn’titkindof,Idon’tknow,wrongorgrossthatshe’sjuststandingtherelikethat?”Floraaskedwithagrimace.
“Jesus,Flo,”Haleywhisper-yelled,leaningovermyshouldertoshootheraglare “Insensitivemuch?”
“I’mjustsayingit’sweird.Shehastoknoweveryone’slookingatherandtalkingabouther.She’slike…famousnow.” “Forwhat?”Iaskedsoftly,myeyesstilllockedonthevictimwhowasnotinanywayactinglikeavictimacrossthequad. “Forbeingraped?”
Mywordsdroppedlikeanuclearbombinthemiddleofourlittlegroup.
“Tuckertoldmeshefucksanythingwithadick,”Floraargued,eyesflashing Shewaslikethat.Argumentativewithoutcaringmuchwhichsideshelandedon.Indebate,itwasamazingtowatch,butin reallife,itwascallousandunfairmoreoftenthannot.
“Tuckersaysthataboutanyhotgirl,”Ibitback.“He’sagradeAmisogynist.Yousaidthatyourselflastsemesterwhenhe askedyoutosuckhisdickoutsidethePennyFarthing,remember?”
Asniffwasheronlyanswer
Across the courtyard, Lex Gorgon finally tipped her head down and watched impassively as a group of three girls approachedher Theydidn’thesitatetofallinathersides,touchingherbrieflyinsolidarity Ididn’tknowher,butIfeltprofoundreliefseeingthatshehadfriends.
Foramoment,I’dseriouslyconsideredgettingupandgoingovertohermyself.WonderedhowshewouldreceivemeifI gotcloseenoughtoseejustwhatcolorthosepaleeyeswere.Imaginedshemightgivemeasmirkbecausesheseemedlikethe kindofgirltosmirkandtheninvitemeforabeeratthePenny.
“Luna?”Kenziesaidlikeshe’dsaiditafewtimesalready “DidyoufinishthatreadingforGibson’sShakespeareclass?” “Honestly, giving homework before classes even start should be criminal,” Haley muttered, propping her chin on my shoulder Iknockedhercheekwithmine.“Don’tthinkofitashomework.Learningshouldn’tbeconfinedtoaclassroom.”
Asaunit,myfriendsrolledtheireyesandsaid,“Suchanerd.”
Ilaughed,butevenasIdid,mygazeslidtotheotherendofthequad LexGorgonwasstill standingthere,holdingcourt withherthreefriends,asimilarimagetotheoneIwaspartof.Buttherewasnodoubting,evenfromadistance,thatshewas different Scarred,rebellious…evendangerous.
SowhywasIsointrigued?
HISTORY OF THE TRAGEDIES WAS MY FIRST CLASS EVERY MONDAY MORNING AND FOLLOWED FOR AN HOUR EACH ON WEDNESDAYS andFridays.IwasdoinganhonorsdoublemajorinEnglishandHistoryeventhoughmymothertoldmeitwasn’tpractical. MaybeIevenchoseitbecauseshetoldmethat.
Thetruthwas,Ifounditdifficulttorelatetopeoplesociallyfromanearlyage,anditwasonlythroughbooksthatIbegan tounderstandthem TheHarryPotterseriestaughtmeaboutcourageandconviction,JaneAustentaughtmeaboutthelonging everywomanfeelsforsomethingmoreoutsideoftheirnorm,andtheGossipGirlbookseducatedmeonthecurrencyofrumors andgoodlooksinteenagegirls ItwasonlybyreadingabouttheemotionallandscapeofothersthroughthewrittenwordthatI eventuallyfeltlikeIcouldpartakeinreallifewithoutinevitablyendingupanoutcast.
SoIfeltatendergratitudeforliteratureforraisingmeinwaysmymothernevercould.
Iwas excitedaboutTragedies,andnotjustbecauseIwas oneofthedime-a-dozencollegegirls whofanciedthemselves obsessedwithShakespeare.I’dalwayspreferredsadstories,thekindthatleftanachingechoinmychestforweeks.
“Youseemcuriouslyexcitedforaclassabouttragedy”
Thevoicewaslowandrich,emergingfromathroatlikeroughed-upvelvet.
Ashiversliddownmyspineandeveryinchofmyskinseemedtocomealive
IturnedmyheadtothedeskbesidemeeventhoughIknew,somehow,shewouldbesittingthere.
Thegirlwho’dlivedherowntragedy.
LexGorgon
Shewaslookingatme,featuresimpassive,butthosepaleeyes––gray! They were gray as wet stone––wereintentonmy face Idon’tknowwhyIblushed,butIcouldfeeltheheatofitspilldownmycheekstomychestlikeredwine
WhenIonlyblinkeddumblyather,her full mouthflattenedintoaline.Shegesturedtoitwithablack-tippedhand.“You weregazingintospacesmiling”
Theclasswasstillfillinguparoundus,soIpausedasaguywalkedinfrontofustotakeanotherfront-rowseat.Itgaveme amomenttosuckinasharpbreathandscoldmyselfnottobeanidiot.Shedidn’tdeservethatafterwhatshe’dbeenthrough. WouldprobablythinkIwassomejudgmentalprudereadytopinherwithascarletletter
“Ilikethetragediesbest,”Itoldher,myvoicesofterthanusualbecausesuddenlyIwasthrownbacktomychildhoodwhen shynesscrippledme,andIwasunsureofeverysoundImade
Athinblackbrowarchedhighonherforehead.“Whatdoyouknowabouttragedy?”
Theyweren’tfightingwords There was nocondescensioninher tone or manner,more a gentle kindofcuriosity,maybe evenaplayfuldare.
Tell me the secret of your sorrow,sheseemedtosay.
Andforsomeinexplicablereason,Iwantedtosharewithher
Ishrugged a shoulder, fiddlingwithmyballpointpenonthe frontofmynotebookeventhoughthe inkwas makingugly splotchesonthepage “Ithinkthat’sthepoint Everyonecanrelatetoasadstory Therearedegreesoftragedy,obviously,but
everypersonlivingknows some sortofunhappiness It’s love and laughter, success and happyendings thatdivide us Pain bringsustogether.”
Lexblinkedatmethen,aslowclosingofthosethick-lashed,stonyeyes Whentheyreopened,afreshintensitywasthere God,Ithought,despitethewaythewordsmademeshaky, she’s so gorgeous. “That’saninterestingthought,”shesaidinthatlow,almostmasculinevoicethatvibratedinmybones “Acleverone” Theblushthathadrecededtojustmycheeksbloomedacrossmyentirechestagain.“Thankyou.I’mLunaPallas.” Athinsmilethatseemedmoreunhappythannot “IthinkyouknowwhoIam” Ibitmylip,pressedmypentiptoohardtothepaper,andrentthepage.“Ido.”
Sheshiftedaheavysheetofwavydarkhairbehindhershoulder,andIcaughttheflashofascarlikeastarburstoverher collarboneintheshadowofhercollaredshirt Aboveit,atattooedsnakekissedthesideofherneckwithanundulatingtongue Itwaseroticsomehow,thesnakeandthescar.Tragedystampedandinkedonherbodyforeveryonetosee.Itwasboldand courageous Ilikedthatabouther,andIdidn’tevenknowher
“Iknow you, too,” she startled me bysaying, slidingher gaze to me outthe corner ofone eye. “So don’tfeel bad. Luna Pallas,captainofthefieldhockeyteam,popularandbeautifulwithtoomanyfriendstonameandaboyfriendlikejockKento heracademicBarbie.”
Ilaughed,embarrassedeventhougheverythingshesaidwastrue.“Youmakemesoundlikeastereotype.”
“Ifthecleatfits”
Theprofessorwalkedintothesmallauditoriumthen,stoppingourconversationbeforeIcoulddefendmyself.Iwasmore thanastereotype Ihaddepthandangstgalore Ijustcovereditup,hidittomakemyselfmorepalatabletothemasses Iopened mymouthto contradictLex, butshe was alreadyfacingforward withShakespeare’s Hamlet flipped open, the pages alreadyriddled withblue-inked annotations. I leaned forward automatically, wantingto read what she’d seeninthe famousbard’swords.Itearnedmeaglareandtheanglingofherbodyaroundthebook,obscuringitfromview.
Isatback,angryandembarrassedbyhercoldshoulderandmyownblatantcuriosity.
Shewasjustagirl Averyprettygirlwiththickdarkhairdownherbackandfeaturescopiedoutofanartbook I’dknown prettygirlsbeforeandprettyboys.
NonehaddonetomewhatLexGorgondidwithasingleblinkofthosecoldeyes
Thatgray-toned gaze haunted me for the restofthe class. Icouldn’tstop sneakingglances ather eventhoughshe didn’t onceseemtoreturnthefavor.
WhywasIintriguedbythewaysheheldthebuttofherpenagainstthatplushlowerlipthatwasaspinkastheedgesofa lotusflower?
WhydidIwanttoreadwhatevernotesshescribbledinsloping,crampedcursiveoverthepagesofhernotebook?Whydid Ilovethatshestilltooknotesinlonghandlikeme,eschewingthemodernuseofcomputers?
Shewasbeautifulenough,almostflagrantlysensualwithallthosecurvesandthatpouty,expressivepinkmouth,tocatchthe eyeofanyone.WhenIlookedaroundtheroom,hopingtofindsomeoneelsestaring,threeguyssittingbehindherstaredatthe backofherheadcovetously.
ButIwasn’tlikethem Ididn’twanttosleepwithher Iwasn’tintowomenthatway.
Ijustwanted itwashardtosay,buttheclosestIcametodescribingitwhileIsatbesideher,nearlyobsessingabouther, wasthatIwantedtobeinherorbit.Notclose,ifshewouldn’tallowit,butinthevicinityofherenergy.
Beingnearhermademefeelitchybutalive
Ilookeddownatmynotebook,tryingtowrenchmyattentionawayfromherandbacktothelectureonlytofindasquare foldedpieceofpaperonmydesk.MyeyesshottoLex,butshewasbentoverherownwork,writingfuriously.
Carefully,Iunfoldedthenoteunderthetableandreadthatcrampedcursive
Take a picture. It’ll last longer. Humiliationpouredovermyheadlikehotwater Iwantedtolookather,toseeifshewaswitnessingmyshame,butIwas toofuriousandafraid.She’dsensedmystrangefascinationandwasbelittlingmeforit.
Itmadeitworsetoknow Iwasn’tthefirstonetofindhercaptivating,thatIwasoneinalonglineofgazerstomakeher intoanobjectoflonging.
Iwantedtocrumplethepaper,tearittoshreds,andswallowit.Ajuvenilewayoferasingitsexistence. Instead,IlistenedtoProfessor Gibsonquotefrom Hamlet “‘Mywords flyup,mythoughts remainbelow: Wordwithout thoughtsnevertoheavengo.’”
LexonlyhadthepowertomakemefeelsmallifIlether SoIwouldn’t.
Iscrawledinmyloosescript:
Fine. Meet me in the library tonight on the second floor near the Ancient Greek section. I’ll bring my camera. Idroppedthenoteintoherlapwithoutlookingather,thenimmediatelyturnedbacktomynotetaking.
