The Drifter

“You kids playing nice?” he asked.

“Fuck off, Teddy,” said Mack, flinging a near-empty Solo cup at him, which hit the front door and sent a spray of booze over the back of Teddy’s shirt and shorts when he ducked to shield his head. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Christ, settle down!” he said. “Betsy, are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” she said, straining her voice to be heard over the music. “Just give us a minute.” Am I fine?

“Why don’t we all calm down and come back inside,” Teddy said. The music blasted behind him.

“This has nothing to do with you, Teddy,” Mack shouted.

Teddy paused. Don’t leave, Betsy thought.

“OK. If you’re not back in the house in five minutes, I’m coming back out here.” Teddy went back into the party.

“Why do you care, anyway?” Betsy said, turning to Mack, shouting in his face. “It’s been over for so many months now. You want me to die, right? Isn’t that what you said at Bagelville over your morning coffee? You hated me even when we were together.”

“I wanted you to die before you started fucking one of my best friends,” he said, so close now that she could smell the bourbon on his breath.

“I’m not fucking Gavin,” she said.

“Yet. You are not fucking Gavin yet,” he shouted, and he reached out and shoved her against the tree, pressing his body against hers, his rage turning suddenly to a condescending stage whisper. “But if I were you, I’d wait till he was finished with Channing first.”

“What do you mean? You’re so full of shit,” she said, trying to push him away.

“I mean that she was over at his house the night before we saw you at Bagelville.” He was spitting as he spoke. Betsy managed to push him off of her and stumbled backward, further into the woods. Mack followed. “Her car was outside. I unpacked some boxes and looked back out there two hours later. It was still there.”

His words were slurred, but the message was clear. Betsy was stunned. She’d never even thought to ask if he was with anybody. It didn’t occur to her. What right did she have to be mad about it, really? If there was something she needed to know, he’d tell her, right? They’d been together for a couple of days, and what did he owe her? She wondered why Channing had played along with Bobby’s lovebird bit at J.D.’s. The wheels had already started to spin, and once that started, with Weird Bobby’s drugs added to the mix, there was no stopping. It was a lie, she thought, all of it. Gavin was messing with her. It would be over before classes started again. Betsy’s mind raced, and she started to see the darkness in Gavin. He was just like the rest of them, like Mack, like Channing and Anna, like Caroline . . . even Ginny. Where is she now, when I really need her? Hiding in the sorority house behind those letters, behind a crowd of hollow girls. Betsy had been afraid of this ominous killer, of the unknown, but what if the real threat was right in front of her? Could Mack actually hurt me? Betsy wondered. She remembered what he’d said that morning.

It would be a shame if you were next.

“You’re a joke and a fucking slut, Betsy,” he said, lunging for her. She turned to run, but she tripped on a tree root and fell to the damp, spongy ground. She looked up through the trees toward the door. Where was Teddy? Was he in on it, too? Was she completely alone? Going back inside was not an option. Betsy wanted out, to get away from there, to go anywhere else. So she struggled to her feet, turned, and ran up the driveway, down the long empty residential street into the dark, muggy night.

Mack’s voice trailed after her.

“The way I see it, both of you are getting sloppy seconds.”

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