I waited outside of the photography club room for about twenty minutes. Classes were over for the day, and I’d shown up as requested by Jaz to submit my club application. Much like last week, I found myself anxious about what awaited me on the other side of that tall, intimidating door. Only this time, my relationship with Zoey Brahm was far more established than it had been back then. We’d spoken multiple times in just the past few days, and by some miracle, I had even spent time in her bedroom with her. But a part of me couldn’t help but find the situation nerve-wracking. After all, this would be the first time we spoke since I told her that I was hers.
My face went red just remembering it. Was my unconditional acceptance of her all due to Benjamin’s influence, or was I really that willing to be in her good graces? It wasn’t even just that incident either. I’ve been doubting everything I did last week since I returned to normal. Could the person I was back then even truly be called Tristan Collins? Wouldn’t it technically be more accurate to say that it was someone else entirely? A person whose foundation was similar to Tristan’s, but whose essence was warped into something completely different? Or is it more like saying that I was influenced by a friend after spending a large amount of time with them? If I spent the past three years of my life with Benjamin instead of Lance, for example, would the version of myself that existed in that universe still be considered Tristan? And if so, how is that any different from the residual influence that Dream Paralysis leaves in my body?
“Hey stranger.”
“Oh…” I spun reflexively to the call of her voice. “Zoey, hey...”
“How long were you waiting around for? The door’s open, you know.”
“Huh? No, it’s…”
I moved my hand to the knob and twisted it gently, expecting it to lock in place. The darn thing gave no resistance however, and instead easily clicked open in response to my touch.
“See?” She smiled before gently brushing past me to head inside, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air. It probably doesn’t warrant mentioning, but I felt like a total idiot. When I received no response after my knock, my mind came to the natural conclusion that the door hadn’t been unlocked yet since no one else was there. The assumption was so embarrassing that I slapped both cheeks twice in shame before following her inside.
The club room appeared to be in the exact state that it had been in last week. Same monitor set up with the computer to the far-left end of the door, same lounging area with a bright, red sofa and dark wooden table directly between the aforementioned setup and myself, and of course, the same black curtains that ran from the middle of the right wall down to its end in the center of the room, sectioning the space into two.
“Have a seat. There’s a kettle to your right if you’d like some tea.”
I suppose there was a big difference now, and I had only noticed it after turning to my right. There was a water dispenser and a table right beside it. That table, housing a kettle, some paper cups and an assortment of different teabags seated to the right of the door, was a welcomed new piece of the photography club that served as Zoey’s lair for creating connections within the school.
“When did that get here?” I asked while taking a seat on the sofa.
“Just before you did. The school wasn’t sure if we’d gather enough members in time, so they never bothered returning it until now.”
“Oh, really?”
She nodded. “Today is the deadline on securing the minimum member requirements after all. Speaking of which, you brought the application, right?”
“Right, here.” I handed it to her nervously. I suddenly didn’t have the guts to tell her that I wasn’t sure if Lance would even show up at all. After all, judging by what she’d just said, the photography club would be nothing but a smoldering pile of rubble if he didn’t. “Why were you guys so picky when it came to choosing club members, though? I’m sure a ton of people must have applied.”
“Well,” she started, accepting the form before placing it over at the computer desk to the left. “The official reason I gave Jaz was that we needed people who were passionate about photography. But truthfully, I just needed someone who wouldn’t be too distracting.”
“Distracting?”
“For example, girls who are only interested in clout, guys who are only interested in making romantic advances.”
“I see…”
After a precursory glance over the form she’d just set down, she turned to walk back over to the couch and took a seat right next to me.
She was close.
Too close.
So close, in fact, that I couldn’t even muster the strength to look in her direction.
My heart was pounding out of my chest, and my eyes were glued to my feet.
“Tristan, I couldn’t help but notice that Castro isn’t with you today.”
I gulped. I wasn’t nervous because she was asking about that terrifying creature. It was just that, her voice was so gentle that I couldn’t help but be taken in. I was being absorbed into Zoey’s world once more. By her aroma, by her sweet voice, by that hypnotic smile. The feeling of her weight on the sofa next to me. The sight of her hair glistening in the light. It had only been a week, but her gravitational pull was even more intense than it was before. I was being taken into her orbit, slowly but surely.
“Y-yeah. He left on Monday. My personality seems to be back to normal too.”
“Hmm, so it’s only residual influence from the hacking. Makes sense.” She leaned back onto the sofa, her arms laying limp at her sides in a show that made her appear defenseless. “What do you think he was?”
“What do I…? I don’t know,” I said.
“Oh, you can do better than that. I’m sure you have some ideas.”
Was she testing me? It’s practically impossible for me to guess what that supernatural thing was.
“I don’t...”
“Okay, let’s try this. What do you know about him so far? Just based on what’s happened since it showed up.”
“I don’t know. It’s probably somehow related to Dream Paralysis, I’d guess...”
“Well, yes,” she agreed as if it were obvious. “But in what way?”
“Uhm… it only showed up after my hack with Benjamin. And you and I were the only two people who could see it. And… I think it disappeared about three days after the hack.”
“Which means you haven’t used your power since then?” I nodded my head at her assumption. I wasn’t sure what exactly she was getting at, but she appeared to believe that we were making progress based on her contemplative expression, so I didn’t bother saying anything. “So why is it that I was the only person who could see it, Tristan?”
“Isn’t it because I hacked you the most?”
“Is that true?”
“Yeah. I hacked you four times. I had only hacked everyone else about once. Your mom, the thief, Gwen, Ben… So maybe… you’re more connected to whatever it is that’s causing these powers.”
“Hmm, maybe. It’s also possible that it’s because we were so close when you were first infected at the campsite. Infected? Or maybe possessed is a better word?”
“Possessed? Infected?”
“Yeah. It’s entirely possible that that thing is like a parasite that lives inside of your head.” I froze in place at the thought. A parasite? Like a brainworm? “Well, if we were to believe that then your theory of having hacked me the most is more likely. I didn’t feel anything strange that night in the woods.”
“Am I… gonna die?”
“Hmm? Why would you?” she asked.
“I… I don’t know.”
She stared at me with a curious expression, then faced ahead.
“By the way, does the term ‘Wendigo’ mean anything to you?”
“Wendigo? What’s that?”
“Well, I looked up a description of Castro’s appearance online and that was what came up. It’s supposedly these evil spirits in Native American folklore that possess others and creates cannibalistic tendencies inside of that person.”
“Cannibalistic…?”
“Yeah. Only, that doesn’t sound like Castro, does it? And that’s not the only thing that’s off. While Deer Valley was originally native land, the Cralixi tribe that once lived here had nothing to do with the Wendigo spirit. It’s supposedly only related to the northern tribes near Canada and the great lakes.”
“So, it’s not a Wendigo then?”
At my question, she grinned.
“You’re really going to let me figure it all out by myself, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I really wish I could help, but…” I fidgeted anxiously, looking away from her. “I don’t think you should expect much from me.”
“Hmm?” she smiled, leaning in closer. “And why’s that, Tristan?”
Why had she insisted on hovering over me with that intense gaze of hers? Just how was I supposed to put together a coherent thought when the girl of my dreams had been laser-honing her attention onto me like that?
“I’m just… bad at applying myself. I always have been. I barely scrape through any of my classes besides American Literature. I just, don’t have the brains for stuff like this.”
I looked away as I said it. It was so embarrassing. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t not say it. I’m hers. I’ll do anything if it means making her happy. Communicating that to her in as few words as possible was important to me. After wordlessly staring over me, she finally slumped back into the sofa.
“I remember, you know. Last year in that American Literature class. We had been going over the Great Gatsby after reading through the first chapter. Mr. Davis had asked us what we thought the major themes of the book were going to be.”
I laughed. “He was all about themes. He told us that they were the soul of any piece of storytelling.”
“And almost immediately,” she continued. “Without waiting to be called, you murmured an answer loud enough to be heard through the silence. ‘Class’.”
“I did that?” This was about a year ago, so I had scarcely remembered every little detail. Sure, I had answered quite a few of his questions back then, but I hardly remembered the specifics.
“You did. And when he asked why, you drew his attention to the first quoted lines of the chapter. Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
She repeated the quote with such precision that I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that she had been reading it off my forehead.
“With just a single chapter, you managed to dig out the overarching theme of class consciousness and the death of the American dream from right under Fitzgerald’s writing hand.”
“It’s nothing that anyone else who cared to apply themselves couldn’t do.”
“But Tristan, all I’m asking is for you to apply yourself again.” She stroked the top of my head as if she were caressing a baby’s scalp. I thought that I was going to melt from the warmth of her soft hand. Being alone with Zoey and receiving her touch was a blessing that I couldn’t believe I was experiencing. Was this heaven? But just as quickly as she had blessed me with her touch, she pulled it away, dropping me down onto the earth below.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“So, uhm… was it a Wendigo?” I asked, trying to get things back on topic. Whether or not I could get to the bottom of this if I applied myself, I certainly couldn’t focus with her next to me.
She looked down at her nails. “Well supposedly, the deer-like appearance of the Wendigo is a recent interpretation. Apparently, a filmmaker called Larry Fessenden made a film titled after the creature a few decades ago. It seems like he got the idea from an old high school teacher who told him the story of meeting that creature once upon a time.”
“Oh, I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s kind of a cult movie. But I think the important thing is that this teacher, whoever it is, probably knows more about it than we do.”
“Really? How old is this director?
“If I’m right, then he should be in his fifties.”
“Oh, I don’t know how likely it is that we’re finding that teacher then.” I turned to face her intently. “Are you sure it’s this Wendigo? The one in the movie?”
“The descriptions match, at least, so it won’t hurt to look into it. If it really was this thing from the movie, then there’s no end to the resources we could look into. But it’s more likely that that teacher saw the Dream Paralysis demon and mistakenly assumed it was a Wendigo.”
“But…”
“In any case, I’d like to talk about what we’ll be doing next, but it looks like we don’t have much time.”
As she said it, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.
“That must be Jazmine.” Zoey picked herself up and walked over to the computer. “And for reference, when we’re around other people, the only times we met last week were related to your world history project.”
“Uh, yeah.”
The second she sat down in front of the screen, the door was thrust open with such force that I half expected the Kool-Aid man to waltz in.
“I’m here!! Ohh, Tristy! You made it!”
Jazmine slid over to the sofa almost immediately and wrapped her arms around me.
“Oh. Hey.”
She pulled herself away.
“What? Just an ‘oh, hey’? No hug either? Tristy, I feel like you might not actually like me that much.”
“What? No of course I do.”
“You do? Really?”
“Uh, yeah. Really…”
My eyes turned to Zoey, who was looking over at us both with an undecipherable expression. Was she smiling, frowning, or cringing? Jazmine followed my gaze and also happened to find Zoey staring at us.
“Oh hey Zoey. Sorry, is this kind of thing weird in the club room?”
“And what kind of thing would that be, Jaz?”
“H-huh? Oh, I wonder.”
Zoey stared at her for a moment, expression unchanged, before turning away to the computer at her desk. Jazmine leaned into me and whispered into my ear.
“Is she jealous, do you think?”
“What? No way.” I couldn’t help but blush at the thought. Jazmine knows about my feelings for Zoey, so she was obviously just teasing me. But still, Zoey had to have been curious about why Jazmine was being this familiar with me, right? Even if that curiosity started and stopped at whether I would talk to her about my powers or not, her interest clearly couldn’t be denied.
“Anyway!” Jaz pulled herself back and leaned onto the sofa. “Where’s your friend, Tristy? Has he stopped by yet?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s on his way, yeah. Totally.” I was sweating bullets.
“Really?” She peered into my face, her eyes squinting with so much suspicion that I almost confessed right then and there.
“Uh, hang on, I’ll call him to make sure.”
I ran out of the club room and immediately rang his phone. If Lance ruined my chances of spending more time with Zoey, then I’d never forgive him. He could go to hell for all I cared.
“Come on, come on, pick up…”
I tapped my foot impatiently while waiting for his answer. I was desperate. Not only because it would guarantee that I could hang out with Zoey for the rest of the year, but also because it would deeply shame me if we were the reason that the photography club had to be disbanded. And unfortunately, it looked like I was one step closer to that shame. No matter how many times I dialed the number, Lance never picked up.
“Come on, dude…”
“Excuse us.”
“Hm? Oh, sorry.”
Two younger students, possibly both freshmen, walked past me and entered the photography club room. It didn’t surprise me that people were already starting to trickle in. It was a popular club, after all. Whether it was business with the homecoming pictures, requests from a particular club over one of their activities, or something like taking ID photos, the photography club was the place to be. But that photography club would probably cease to exist so long as my calls were being avoided.
“Lance, don’t do this to me, man…”
I continued tapping my foot while thinking about how much was at stake here. Even those two freshmen, I thought, before a sudden realization dawned on me. The two students who just walked by looked strangely familiar. And not just from in passing, it felt like I’d spoken to them both before. Why would I feel that way, though? Did I really know any first-years that personally? Or was it just from passing them by in the halls? No, it felt more intimate than that. But where? I needed to get a closer look. Putting the issues with Lance aside, I decided to make my way back into the club room.
“Sorry, I don’t really know a ‘Travis’ in senior year,” Zoey said. “I don’t know if I can help you two.”
“Come on! You were talking to him at the game! I sat right next to the two of you!”
“Did I really do something like that…?”
“Okay, look. Just show us the photos from the game. I’ll find him for you.”
“Well, I suppose I have no reason not to.”
Zoey lifted herself up from the chair and allowed the boy, who I recognized as Ollie, to sit at the computer before the basketball game album.
“Oh god,” I muttered to myself.
It was an unprecedented disaster. The fake name I’d used at the game was being thrown around casually like it was a basketball and not something that could doom me forever. They were hunting for me, the boy who showed up to the game disguised, and also the one who coordinated the Otters loss with Gwen. If someone could demonstrably connect Tristan Collins to Gwen Diaz, then that might tip Benjamin off to the fact that something was happening behind the scenes during the game. And if Gwen was pressured by him to answer those questions, then there’s no way she’d be able to oppose him for very long.
However, there was nothing I could do about it. To step in would not only put myself into the spotlight, but it would be a uniquely suspicious act that I had no confidence about my ability to navigate. In fact, it was a miracle that they hadn’t recognized me already.
“Let’s see…” Ollie said, looking through the pictures. “Cheerleaders, cheerleaders, cheerleaders, game, game, cheerleaders, game, mascot, mascot, game, game… Are there any real shots of the crowd in here?”
“There should be a couple,” Zoey said, moving to lean over Ollie’s shoulder. “Do you dislike my pictures?”
“H-huh? Oh, n-no I think they’re very high quality. You’re really good at this stuff…”
“Thank you.”
The sudden urge to tear him limb from limb was rising like a flame over searing coals. When did I become such a jealous person, I wonder? Zoey seemed to have a talent for bringing out the worst in me.
“Ah, here’s a good one,” he said. “Let’s see...”
He zoomed in on the image and we found him focusing on the top left of the photo, where the two of us, both Ollie and I, were seated for the majority of the game.
“Oh, do you mean this person?” Zoey pointed over at myself, who was seated close to the upper door in the gym’s stands.
“Let me have a look.” Jazmine, who was initially unenthusiastic about it, decided to come up and see what all the commotion was about. “Hmm… oh.”
“Oh?” Ollie looked over at her. “What do you mean ‘oh’?”
“Hmm? Oh, I just…”
“Oh, him,” Zoey interrupted her. “We spotted him while taking pictures. Apparently, he was an Ollenville student who snuck in to support the Otters.”
“What? Really?” The girl seemed shocked. “But he…”
“He?”
“N-nevermind. It makes sense, he looked like he was disguised.”
It seemed like she was about to talk about my conversation with Gwen, but she remembered that she was paid to keep it secret. At the very least, I’m glad that she took our deal seriously. However, twenty dollars is washy and would probably only hold over for as much as the money felt good to her.
“Yeah,” Ollie agreed. “That makes sense. That fucking asshole… He lied to me…”
“Lied to you? What did he tell you?” Zoey asked.
“Huh?! Oh, n-n-nothing. Haha… what about you? What did you talk about after you found out?”
He must’ve been embarrassed to bring up how I promised to get him close to Zoey. Though, he seemed to have done a good job getting there himself.
“Hmm, I just asked why he decided to sneak in. But he seemed to genuinely care about his school team, so I decided not to tell anyone about it.”
“Hmmm, but he was sleeping for most of the game, though. He only woke up in time to see Ben hit the referee in the face.”
“So, he only cared about the second half?” Zoey asked.
“Hmm? Well, I guess.”
“That’s not exactly uncommon. There are basketball fans like that too.”
“You think so…? Even ones who would sneak into another school to watch the game?”
“I don’t have any reason to think otherwise. Do you think he was a bad person?”
“Hmmm, no. He wasn’t very talkative, but he seemed nice.”
“I see. Were you trying to find this Travis person because you wanted to hang out with him again?”
He laughed. “Well… something like that.”
Zoey leaned over him and took the mouse, then continued navigating through the pictures.
“You know, I think I could reach out to him if you really want me to. Did you want to talk to him too?”
She turned to the girl, who was somewhat surprised at how she was suddenly dragged into the conversation.
“Really? You’d do that for us?”
“It’s fine, I’ve been meaning to ask him something too.” She pulled herself away from the computer after opening another picture. It was one of the gym being emptied out after the Otters had won. I had already left moments before the final whistle was blown, so I managed to avoid the stampede that had ensued. “I’ll contact you guys next week. Can you write your full name, year, email, and phone numbers on this form for me?”
Zoey held out a specially designed photography club form that logged the information of whoever visited the club that week. The tedious amount of work she put into this club had to be admired. It was a well-oiled machine; I couldn’t deny that.
“Yeah, sure sure. Here, Linda.” Ollie wrote in his information then handed a pen and form to the girl, whose name was apparently Linda. She followed through by filling her information in then held the form out to Zoey. “Okay, we’re done.”
Ollie got up from the chair and stretched his arms out.
“Well, if that’s all then I think we’ll be seeing you guys next week if I get him,” Zoey said, accepting it.
“Uh, right. Actually, Zoey-”
“Hey, hey!” Jazmine interrupted Ollie, who looked like he had something important to say to Zoey. “Thanks for coming. We’ll call you later, so if you have anything else to say you can wait until our next meet up.”
She gently pushed them away to the door, chattering about how thankful she was that they visited without letting Ollie get so much as a word in. I had to admit that I could see how the two of them managed this club alone for so long. Zoey’s friendly, laid-back demeanor, and Jazmine’s strong-arming whenever they got too familiar. It was the perfect good cop bad cop routine. The problem was, they were about to walk past me now. Getting recognized here would be a disaster.
I decided to pull my hood up and move over to the table in the back in order to put together some tea quickly. If there was any chance that they could recognize me, then I needed to do my best to reduce those odds by not showing my face. However, thanks to Jazmine’s chattering and pushiness, they were too taken in to afford to give me much more than what was probably a cursory glance. The two were herded to the exit and allowed to leave, the sound of the door clicking in place silencing the room’s interior.
“Phew…” Jazmine let out a sigh of relief. “That was tense.”
“Oh, really? What happened?” I feigned ignorance, still making a cup of tea.
“Well, I was actually curious about something.”
“Y-yeah? What is it?” I was nervous. I didn’t like the sound of her voice.
“Were you, by any chance… uh, at the homecoming game last week?”
“What?” I once again feigned ignorance. Only this time, I could tell that I was doing a terrible job at it.
“Yeah, see? Isn’t this you?” She moved over to the computer and pulled up the image of me sitting next to Ollie on the bench. “It’s totally you! I’d recognize that sitting posture anywhere.”
“How did you recognize my sitting posture?!”
I covered my mouth, and Jazmine grinned.
“Oh, so it WAS you.”
“No, I just mean… there’s no such thing as recognizing…”
“Tristan,” Zoey interrupted. “It’s fine. You can tell her.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Jaz, the truth is, the reason I made that bet with Benjamin is because he was going to keep harassing Tristan if I didn’t go out with him again.”
“What? But Tristan isn’t the reason you two broke up, is it?”
“Not exactly, but Ben wouldn’t accept that. No matter how much I explained it to him, his anger was focused on Tristan. It’s futile trying to communicate with someone who lives in a completely different reality. And for the consequences of my actions to involve some innocent bystander who happened to ask for help on a paper? Could I really live with that? Could you?”
“I… guess…”
I couldn’t help but admire how easily lies came to her. How was it that she was so easily able to spin a fable after being thrown a curveball like the Travis situation? She was talented, and this was irrefutable proof of it.
“Tristan felt guilty about it once he found out about the bet. You were there, right? When he’d heard about it?”
I felt an imaginary spotlight shine down on me as the two of them both looked my way. Being the only guy in a room with two girls that beautiful was enough to make me feel uncomfortable as is, but also being put on the spot like that made it hard for me to breathe.
“I don’t know, I guess I couldn’t just not go watch it after finding out why she was doing it. Like, if she was forced to date someone she didn’t want to because of me then what would I do?”
“Well, date is a strong word,” Zoey said, hopping back onto the computer. “I’d probably just sit with him once a week and return his texts every now and then. If he wasn’t able to put up with that then he was free to break up with me if he wanted to.”
“What?”
The word unconsciously escaped my lips. I mean, that wasn’t the impression she had given me at all. When we spoke in the car the other day, it sounded like she was fine with going all the way with him, didn’t it? Was she just goading me into using Dream Paralysis?
“What? Is there a problem with that?” Zoey turned to ask me. She was gauging my expression, I could tell. That sadistic, controlling side of her was taking pleasure in the fact that she had me wrapped around her finger.
“No, I… I guess it’s good that you wouldn’t have to do that much.”
“That’s the surprising part, though!” Jazmine slumped onto the sofa and kicked her feet up on the table. “How did Ben manage to throw such an easy game away? Even before he got kicked off, he was getting manhandled by the little guy.”
“Yeah, it was almost like he was possessed.”
I froze at Zoey’s poignant choice of words.
“Possessed?” Jazmine laughed. “Doesn’t that mean he was playing well?”
“Who knows? I didn’t say he was possessed by a good player.”
“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe the thought of finally winning you over made him so nervous that he couldn’t help but get in his own head. Like come on, he was definitely NOT in his right mind when he hit the ref in the face. I heard he got suspended from the team for it too. People were saying he was a shoo-in for a college ball scholarship and that might’ve ruined everything for him. Ah geez, I can’t help but be jealous. Zoey’s so enchanting that guys will throw their futures a way just for a chance at being with her.”
No, it had nothing to do with his obsession with Zoey. It was all my fault. I sacrificed him because I wanted to be Zoey’s first time instead of him. I ruined the homecoming dance, I destroyed his reputation at school, and I very likely ruined any chance of him having a career in basketball. I’m guilty of the crime of ruining his life.
“His own obsession drove him to ruin. No one else should take the blame for that.”
But Zoey’s words, words that almost felt directed at myself and not Jazmine, refused to allow me to wallow in despair.
“Yeah, that’s true. Guy had it coming.” Jazmine laughed.
“Here,” I said, placing the cup of tea down at the table before Jaz as I took the hood off my head.
“What? Is this for me?”
“Uh, yeah. I thought I’d make you some as thanks for inviting me to the club.”
Her eyes were filled with more gratitude than I felt like I deserved. Making the cup was just an excuse to avoid Ollie and Linda, after all.
“Oh my God, thank you so much!”
“No, it’s… woah!” My words got held up in my throat as she held me tightly.
“Thank you, thank you! I’m so glad you’re here, Tristy!”
“Ah, uhm, yeah. Me too.”
“No, seriously,” she said, pulling herself away. “It means a lot. Thanks.”
I was glad that she felt this way about me joining the club, but all the joy and gratitude in the world wouldn’t matter if Lance didn’t bother to show up.