“Hey, Liam,” Brianna Vern, one of the sophomore representatives, said, leaning out of the lineup to smile at him. “Nice of you guys to join us. We were just talking about how much easier it is to be a boy than a girl. Like, you guys don’t have periods or anything. And, I mean, you love your body parts.”
“Dude, she’s right,” said Matthew Derringer. He was the other sophomore representative, and one of Jake’s best friends. Liz wasn’t sure why, but she always had to fight down the urge to hug him when he was near. Lean in and wrap her arms around him and knee him in his unsuspecting balls. Hard. “I do love my body parts. I reward ’em. What about you, Liam? When was the last time you rewarded that flute of yours? Just now, on the bleachers? Thought I could feel them shaking.”
The fog. How it magnified.
The laughter. The screaming—gay pervert faggot gaypervertfaggot. The digging, Liz’s fingernails against palms, teeth, and lips. And the silence. Heavy heavy heavy silence.
Somewhere in the fog, the principal announced Kate and Mike as king and queen.
The crown Kate had made for Mike was heavy and elaborate and beautiful, and his for her was from Burger King. There was a pause and furious clicking as the parents took pictures. Someone complained that they should move the crowning back to the dance, when everyone was dressed up, though no one listened. The names continued. Junior representatives, sophomore.
Liz’s eyes flickered to Liam.
She wondered if he had watched the video—watched it all the way through.
“Your freshman representatives: Liz Emerson and Liam Oliver!”
Liz drew her crown from the shoebox. She had gone online and bought the cheapest, crappiest flute she could find. Jake had cut it to pieces in his metals class, and she had hot-glued it back together in a rough circle, and now she pulled it from its nest of tissue paper and offered it to Liam.
His face.
Why did you come? She wanted to scream it. Why the hell did you come? Idiot, you goddamn idiot. You knew this would happen. You knew what we would do. What I would do.
You deserve this, she tried to think, but couldn’t. You brought this upon yourself.
There was a lump in her throat, and she wasn’t sure why.
He stared at the crown for a long time. He stared while fuzzy cheerleader shapes unfurled a big paper sign: MERIDIAN HOMECOMING, GO FIGHT WIN! He stared while Nick Braden tripped while running back onto the field and the rest of the team went down on top of him. He stared while the crowd booed. He stared while the football coach finally lost his temper and began to scream at the court to “Get your asses off the field!” and the team to “Get your asses together!”
It was killing her, his silence. She took a breath to break it wide open, and then he finally looked up.
Here Liz was supposed to say something, something horrible, and smile to show all of her teeth, but the only word she could remember was his name. She tried to say it. She couldn’t.
After a moment, he took the crown from her hands, dropped his own shoebox at her feet, and walked off the field.
Liz stared after him, her throat closed and her eyes strangely full, and then she looked down. The lid had fallen aside when the box hit the ground, and she could see the tip of a crown.
It was beautiful, and suddenly, she knew. That’s why he came. To give her the crown.
The mud splattered her knees as she dropped down beside the shoebox—it was cold, and the coldness spread. She reached for the crown, pushed the tissue paper aside. Wire and gold leaf and metallic spray paint, twisted and braided and looped. It looked impossible, and she touched the edges to make sure it wasn’t.
She spun around. “Liam!”
There was no answer.
“You,” the football coach roared, marching toward her. “You have three seconds to get your ass off the field, or I will carry it off.”
Later, Meridian would lose the game 49-2, and Liz Emerson would slip away from Kennie and Julia to run all around the football field in search of Liam to say . . . something. She didn’t know. Anything. Everything.
But while she was pushing people away and peeling them apart, she saw a ziplock bag sticking out of a stranger’s pocket, and she took it because she was too tired to keep looking.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The Effects
Liam didn’t go to the dance, but it didn’t matter.
Surely it was okay to laugh. It was funny. A nerd had been voted onto court and had gotten caught . . . practicing. And besides, no one really got hurt. Liz, Kennie, and Julia went to the dance and grinded on the sweat-slippery floor, and then they went to parties and got drunk and forgot all about it.
On Monday, Liam quit band.
When the teacher tried to change his mind, he threw his flute against the wall and walked away. Many people guessed that Liam cried when he watched the video.
They were wrong.
Liam watched with no emotion whatsoever.