Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Page 9

  He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Tell her hello from me.”

  I licked my lips and nodded before I turned and jetted out of there. I could feel him watching me. I wanted to feel more than his eyes on my body.

  Four-thirty at the park, I jogged around the path and saw Olivia sitting on the bench, her face a flawless picture of grief and despair as she gazed at the rippling pond, seemingly caught in her grief. I couldn’t help but mentally roll my eyes. She was just a bit too dramatic. Although, her grief was real. Who was I to minimize that?

  “Olivia, sorry to keep you waiting.”

  She turned her head and put her hand against her chest, like she was startled, but it seemed too calculated to be genuine. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Right. Well, I’m here. Let’s get this session started. Tell me about your mother.”

  She frowned at me, her expression of helpless female melting into danger and calculating intent that made me relax a little. “What about my mother?”

  I shook my head. “Just tell me whatever you wanted to say. I’ve got to get back.”

  She flipped her hair behind her shoulders and tried to regain her melancholic pose, but I’d ruined it. Finally she shrugged. “My mother is out of town with my father. They are out of town about thirty-percent of the time. They are relieved that my brother Lance is dead because he wasn’t always comfortable to be around. It was easier for him to be dead so that my parents weren’t constantly questioned about their way of life.”

  I sighed. She seemed to honestly think that her parents were happy her brother was dead. Only completely psychopathic parents would feel that way for a child. She was not thinking clearly, which of course was natural when it came to grief. “You must feel lonely, never understood, hovering on the edge of complete despair. What was he like?”

  She stared at me with large eyes while I spoke and then seemed to take a lot of time before she could think of her answer. “He was big, blonde, and completely wicked.” She cocked her head and studied me. “He was best friends with Orion’s brother. Did Orion tell you about his brother?”

  I frowned and shook my head. “Only that he played the violin.”

  She nodded tightly. “He did. My mother always said that he was too sensitive to be The Butcher, that something terrible would happen to him, but no one expected…”

  I pulled away, standing on my feet. This felt like gossip, like I was betraying Orion somehow. “Orion is the person you should talk to about this. He’s there for you any time you need him. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more help.”

  “Wait. If you really think that Orion cares, what would he say to me?”

  I turned, studying her thoughtfully. “He would say that it’s important to make choices and…”

  She shook her head, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “No, I mean with poetic license.”

  I sighed. This was not comfortable for me. “He…”

  “No, like he was speaking to me, like before.”

  “I ache for the pain in your heart, for the sadness of your soul. I yearn to brush all pain and sorrow from your sweet flesh, to replace all misery with endless constancy and love. Sweet Olivia whose beauty echoes like a song growing greater every moment, whose eyes are a constellation, fiery burst wrapped in onyx, whose trembling lips should be pressed until all…”

  She lunged towards me. I jumped away from her right into the pond. It wasn’t very deep. I sat there with a strand of slime over my face staring up at Olivia who had enormous eyes and an expression shifting from guilt to amusement. I looked down at myself, my knees poking up above the water that swirled around me and wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Instead, I sighed and pushed myself to my feet, climbed up the bank and walked one squelching step at a time back to Calder. Olivia didn’t follow me. How was I going to get the terrible swamp smell out of Bas’s wig?

  The next day, Friday after my last class, I walked through the gates of Calder, climbed into the back seat of the cab waiting for me, and directed the driver to the spa. After a week of not showering in the public boy’s showers, and wearing my brother’s now slimy hair, I needed a break before I had a mental break. I needed to go somewhere without a single boy, where I couldn’t search the faces of the boys looking for one made out of chocolate who made me feel like I was on steroids. In the back seat, I pulled off the Calder suit I’d worn over the cute skirt and fluffy mint sweater and felt almost like a girl.

  After a long massage, a steam bath, and getting my legs waxed, I almost felt more like myself, but less whole. My mother and I had come to the spa together for girls’ day out. I should have realized that I’d feel more lonely after coming here. I couldn’t get that back. I couldn’t get her back.

  I walked into the dressing room from the sauna with a towel around myself, wanting a long hug from a chocolate man, but instead, I ran into Olivia.

  I froze when I saw her, talking to one of the workers there, complaining about her manicure not being perfect. After a deep breath, I went to the locker and turned the key. I was not looking forward to getting back in Sebastian’s clothes. Of course I had all weekend I could spend at my Aunt and Uncle’s house. Would listening to my aunt tell me how worthless my mother was be worth the privilege of dressing like a girl?

  “Hi!” Olivia said brightly, stepping next to me so I couldn’t ignore her.

  I almost scowled at her before I remembered that I wasn’t Sebastian. I gave her a cool smile instead. “Olivia. Imagine running into you here.”

  She bristled before she forced a smile that made my own hackles rise. “Yeah. I haven’t seen you around school lately. It’s nice to see you.” She reached for my hand.

  I flinched away and she froze, her expression shifting as she searched my features, like she was mentally comparing me to my brother, or me dressed as my brother.

  “Thank you,” I said stiffly trying to somehow look more feminine. I batted my eyelashes at her and looked up at her through them, like she’d done to me, only I was much better at it, being so much shorter than she was.

  She inhaled deeply as she spun and leaned against the locker beside me. “Look, Violetta, I’m so sorry that we haven’t been friends. I want to change all of that.”

  “Why? We don’t have anything in common.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me and smirked. “I wouldn’t say that. I think that you could use a girl in your corner who knows how to get what she wants. I intend to have a lot more in common with you than you’d think. Why don’t we hang out together? We could boy talk.”

  Her words were utterly chilling, particularly when I realized that it was me, or my male persona she’d be talking about.

  I gave her my best quizzical look. “I don’t quite understand. You think that the way that you get boys would appeal to me? I’m sure that you’re very experienced in attracting a certain kind of guy, but I prefer someone a little more cerebral.”

  She exhaled and rolled her eyes. “You are so annoying. You actually think that I’m stupid. Just because you have nothing better to do than your homework and kiss up in class doesn’t mean that you’re smarter than me. I bet that you’ve never even kissed a boy. How are you supposed to know what kind of guy you like if you’re afraid to try anything? I’ve seen you, the gymnastic stunts that you perform perfectly, but you play it so safe in your life. Your brother isn’t like that. He punched Daughtry in the face. You don’t know what that means, or who he is, but it tells me what your brother has that you lack. It’s a pity. You look so much like him, but the similarities are purely superficial.”

  I stared at her feeling sick. I’d punched Orion in the face? And he’d given me a hug after that? Tears pricked in my eyes and she sneered at me, at my weakness. I sniffed loudly and let the tears fall. Weak was exactly what I was supposed to look like. Anything that made me different from my male persona was a good thing, even as I wanted to punch her in her face, particularly after the stunt by the pond that had ruined my wig.<
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  She frowned and rolled her eyes then walked over to get me a tissue. “Seriously, Viola, I didn’t mean to make you cry. You’re too sensitive. I thought we could double date or something, me and your brother and you and someone else.”

  “Daughtry?”

  She paused and looked at me. I’d sounded too angry, too intense. I tried to tone it down.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to date some jerk my brother punched in the face? You know, that’s a great idea I’ll call up my brother right away and let him know that we’re going to go on a double date with you and Daughtry.”

  She shook her head and frowned at me. “You wouldn’t like him.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “No? How could I possibly know whether I would or not if I didn’t try him out? I guess I could ask you. I’m sure you’ve experienced this random guy my brother punched. Well, Olivia? Is he any good? Remember, we have to save me from the awful, cruel reality of a kiss-less existence. Does Daughtry kiss well?”

  She stared at me, her eyes strange, cold, dark. She smiled mirthlessly and I felt the back of my neck prickle as something warned me to back away from a dangerous predator.

  “Viola, you’d better hope that you never find out. He would consume you and leave nothing left if he looked at you like that. After his brother…died, I went to see him. He stared ahead of him, not seeing anything, but then he turned and grabbed me like I was his lifeline, like he needed me, and he kissed me.” She brushed her lips with her fingertips, like she could still feel the ghost of that kiss. “Then it was like he woke up, and everything went back to normal. I don’t know who he thought he was kissing, but it broke my heart that he never kissed me like that again.”

  I inhaled shakily, trying to not scream or something. “I see. Well, it doesn’t sound like he’d work out after all. There’s no point in kissing someone who can only kiss well once. I guess we’ll have to cancel the whole double date idea. Just as well. I’m busy.” I pulled out the pretty light green angora sweater and pink and short green plaid skirt that I hadn’t worn very often when I’d been a girl all the time.

  She raised an eyebrow, reminding me of Orion, who had kissed her. I started dressing like she wasn’t standing right there so close to my naked and vulnerable body. I breathed a little easier once I had my underwear on.

  “What keeps you so busy? You aren’t in school anymore.”

  I pulled my flirty twirly skirt up my legs. It was hard to pretend that she didn’t exist. “My parents died,” I muttered. “It’s probably difficult for you to understand, but we only have enough money for my brother’s school. Next year I’ll have a scholarship, but until then, I’m working and living with my aunt and uncle, the ones who despise the fact that my father married down, disowned him, and thus left two penniless orphans, one of which is my brother. If you don’t want to be disowned, you should probably stay away from the bad Tancetta blood.”

  She smiled suddenly. “Thanks for the warning. Relatives are sincerely tedious.” She studied me for a few more minutes. “I had a brother. I would have died for him. Instead, I went to his funeral. I understand that you’re trying to protect yours. I know that you don’t like me, but I genuinely think that we should be friends. I think that we could be useful to each other.”

  I felt a wave of empathy that I did not want to feel towards the gorgeous, rich, spoiled girl. “I’m sorry about your brother. What was his name?”

  Her mouth tightened before she shrugged. “Lance. It was a boating accident. They never recovered his body.”

  I inhaled deeply. At least I had my parents bodies and I knew they were dead. Every day she must wonder if he would come back.

  She thrust a piece of paper at me. “Anyway, if you change your mind, here’s my phone number. We could get our hair done together. Have you considered doing something different? I know that you serious girls usually don’t want to bother with something as trivial as hair, but it’s kind of a mess.”

  Defensively, I ran a hand through my frizzy short locks. I couldn’t justify worrying about my real hair when I used it so rarely. “I haven’t thought about it for a while.”

  “That explains why it’s got length. I think it’s the longest I’ve seen it. You look cute. I like your sweater.”

  I tugged on the hem of the soft green cardigan my mother had given me for my last birthday. She said it was the exact color of my eyes. I didn’t wear a lot of soft and delicate colors, but after a week of testosterone, I could use a little girly. Also, it reminded me of her, which made my eyes water again.

  “Thanks.”

  “Cute skirt, too. It shows that you have legs.” She smiled slightly, glancing down at my legs in an awkward way.

  I felt suddenly self-conscious. Cute. No one would ever call Olivia cute. I wished she would stop talking to me.

  “You look nice,” I said, glancing at and then away her tight designer jeans and black tank top that looked painted on her body.

  “Nice?” She shrugged. “It’s easy for me to look sexy, but nice isn’t really my thing. For all of that, I don’t want to hurt your brother, I’m just interested in him. It’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in anything.”

  I glanced up at her while I thought, carefully. “My brother told me about Orion Daughtry. How can you not be interested in him?”

  She raised an eyebrow, that same irritating eyebrow. “I thought I was, but our families have always been close, and so it was easy. Yes. He’s a work of art. His reputation is well-earned, but he doesn’t bend.” She looked distant for a moment before she shook her head. “You should date him.” She smiled widely while I felt a rush of embarrassment.

  “I don’t have time to date. I have to work.”

  “Maybe we could double date. It would be so fun,” she said, her eyes large and her voice strangely persuasive.

  I stared at her while my heart pounded. “I’m not going to date a guy who has a thing for you, and I’m not going to watch you toy with my brother’s heart. That doesn’t sound like my idea of fun. Anyway, so nice to see you again. I’ve got to catch my cab.”

  “A cab? I could drive you,” she said, following me out of the dressing room. I paid, in cash with my dwindling bills at the counter, handing them over to the nice girl with the fake eyelashes, before I went outside and down the steps to the cab. Olivia was still at the counter paying, so I was able to make my escape.

  I told the driver to take me to the sculpture garden downtown, trying not to notice how empty I felt. Was that what I missed, more than being a girl, not being so alone all the time?

  After the cabbie dropped me off, I hoisted my backpack over my shoulders, stuffed with my school uniform as I walked through the garden while the sun warmed my head. I loved the gardens in the city. Every one had a different feel, a different energy. I almost forgot that I was alone as I left the park, staring at the cars as they drove up and down the busy street. I walked, feeling purposeless. I didn’t want to listen to the diatribe against my mother waiting for me at my Aunt’s house. I could take the metro back to the school and walk from the nearest station. That would be good exercise, and my funds were running precariously low. Olivia was right; I needed to do something about my hair. I walked aimlessly for a while until I noticed the neighborhood looked a little bit shabby. I hadn’t thought that I’d gone North, but sometimes the roads shifted direction until you were somewhere you shouldn’t be.

  A wind picked up and I felt a chill. Nick’s Barber Shop, Serving Men and Women. I read the sign and pushed open the door, glad it hadn’t closed yet. I looked around, at the empty room with swiveling chairs and the mirror stretched over the back wall. I’d never gotten my hair cut in a barber’s shop. I went with my mother, or got my hair styled at the salon Olivia had chased me out of. I shrugged. If it was bad, I could always wear a wig. About that wig, maybe they had a product that could get the swamp smell out of it.

  “Can I help you,” a man said, coming in from the back, drying his hands on a t
owel. He was tall, as tall as Orion, but bigger, more fat than muscle, particularly around the jowls. His swarthy skin and curly black hair said southern European. Italian maybe. He looked somewhere in his early twenties.

  “Do you really do women’s hair? I’ve never had a guy cut my hair before.”

  He frowned at me as he thumbed me towards a chair. “Sit. You are not leaving here until I’ve fixed the travesty that is your haircut.”

  I sat in the chair and felt his hands running through my hair, rubbing my scalp. It felt really nice, like a head massage, only by a huge strong man. I closed my eyes and relaxed.

  “Your hair is thick, kinky. You need texture, but not too much. We don’t want to overwhelm your delicate features. Eyes, cheekbones, those are your strengths although your mouth isn’t terrible.”

  I opened my eyes. “People have terrible mouths?”

  He shrugged. “I imagine most everyone is glad to have one. Where are you from? What are you doing in the city?”

  “I went to the sculpture gardens.”

  “That’s quite a ways away. Wandering around? Got things on your mind then,” he said, taking some scissors and snipping away.

  “I don’t know who I am.” I couldn’t tell him, could I? Why not? He was a random hairdresser I’d never see again. “I’m a cross-dresser,” I blurted out before I could change my mind.

  He glanced at me, but his rhythm never faltered, the snip, snip of his scissors.

  “You’re a boy dressing as a girl or a girl dressing as a boy?”

  I felt a wave of relief and relaxed. I’d needed to tell someone. “Sometimes I wonder. I’m a girl, dressing as a boy. I go to school with boys. There’s this one guy who is so beautiful, but I have to hate him, because who I’m pretending to be hates him.”