Laurie Devore - A Better Bad Idea

Tuesday, October 6, 2019, 11:35 p.m.

One Minute After

The options flash through my mind like lightning, faster than I can act on them.

Cry. Scream.

Stay. Leave.

Fight.

Escape.

Destroy.

Dont give up, Evelyn.

Please give up, Evelyn.

Please.

Run, Evelyn.

Go.

Tuesday, October 6, 2019, 1:34 p.m.

Ten Hours Before

Smoke is curling up into the crisp October sky over Tyler McBees head.

Its gray against more gray, a bleak, cool day in McNair Falls, South Carolina. Id dug through my dresser for an old sweater this morning, pulled it out, putting my fingers through the holes eaten into the knitted navy material.

Tylers eyes catch mine when he sees me walking toward him, interested. He has a long face, his hair too short in the front, probably work done by his mamas scissors. Hes leaning against the cheap aluminum siding on the outside of the gym, facing the trees next to school.

Can I bum? I call to him, once Im close enough. I shiver against the breeze. Weather tends to yo-yo around this time of year, one day hot and humid, the next a chill stealing into the air, wrapping you up in its windy tendrils. I hate the cold. And I hate the weakness of a nicotine craving.

Tylers already got his box of Salems out, offering me one. He flicks the box toward me with his wrist, shaking a cigarette loose. I grab it, pulling it between two fingers.

Sometimes, when I like to imagine Im a better person than I am, I think Im less addicted to the nicotine than to the moments before it hits my lips. Holding the cigarette between my fingers, watching some desperate boy offer a flame to me, and then sucking in the smoke like sweet release. Like a brief twinkle of freedom, control.

I lean against the wall of the gym next to Tyler, looking out over the trees blowing in the breeze. My red lips leave a stain behind on the cigarette wrapper.

What are you missing? Tyler asks, not quite looking at me and not quite not looking at me.

History, I answer, easy. Exhaustion works to drag me down, and I fight back just as hard. History is death, I want to tell him, and theres enough dead things around here without piling on. But if I did thatsaid thatI might not ever be able to get another cigarette, so I keep quiet.

I know what to do. Glance over at Tyler, keep my gaze down, my eyes soft. Theres not a lot I can get in this world, so I always play nice with those who give.

You? I ask, letting smoke escape out the side of my mouth.

He snorts, ashes his cigarette against the wall. Havent been to math all week. To be honest, Im not really sure I have time for all this anymore.

School, I finish his thought for him, inhale, blow out slowly. I feel the way hes watching me, eyes catching on all those holes in my sweater. I always feel it.

You know the deal. I figure I could at least be working for the Dowds on their land, doing something useful, making some money. Instead of in herehe gestures at the wall, the school beyondlearning nothing. This shits never gonna do people like us any good.

Drag. I roll the words people like us around in my mind. You gotta do whats right for you. I dont really know what that means, but Ive gotten used to speaking to people in clichs. Keeps me from saying anything real.

You still work over at the store? Tyler asks me. For Reid Brewers parents?

Reid Brewer. The name sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth. Like a thing that only existed before, in the quietest breath of the wind, in the deepest secrets of a soul.

But thats not right, is it? Reid existed everywhere.