The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,40
so endearing and innocent. No stuffed animal this adorable should be made to commit such evil acts. But then my attention drifts from its eyes to what it’s holding.
A football.
The bear showed up in my locker after Bari and Jay broke up. When he accused her of messing with his fantasy football. I swivel the mug around, and I can’t believe I missed the Valentine spelled out in crossword puzzle boxes. I wasn’t thinking of Jake; I was only thinking of this secret admirer, of myself. These weren’t gifts. They were clues.
FIND ME.
It wasn’t a come-on. It was a challenge.
Someone messed with me, messed with my couples, my business, my life. Steve and Huxley. The thought jolts into my mind. How long has this plan been in motion? The picture in this puzzle becomes clearer. This was never about break-ups. It’s about something much more personal.
Revenge.
Chills prickle up my skin at the word. Revenge is so personal, so sinister. I became the Break-Up Artist as revenge against romantic injustice. Now someone else has picked up the torch to enact revenge against me. Couples have been ruined, lives have been upended, and I’m at the center. I curl up in the corner of my room, pulling my body into as tight a ball as it can go.
Across the room, the teddy bear’s dark eyes latch on to mine, and I plunge myself right into the blackness.
***
My suspicions are confirmed the next day when I open my locker. I forgot about one couple. I pick up the Jessalyns T-shirt folded neatly atop my textbooks and stop breathing.
Where is your notebook with the Dominick sketches?
No response.
I stumble through the halls as kids gather in groups before the homeroom bell. I’m running on forty-six minutes of sleep and pure panic. My body is in a strange civil war with itself—half of it is wide awake, nerves pulsing with adrenaline, but my legs and arms are fighting to stay functional. Maybe I’m overreacting. I keep telling myself that things will be fine.
Leo’s not by his locker and not yet in his homeroom.
Where are you?
I run to Dominick’s locker, the one place where Leo is sure to visit pre-homeroom. I push through a barricade of six freshman girls who wish they really owned the halls. Dominick leans against his locker, poring over some papers.
“Hey, have you seen Leo?” I ask.
“No,” Dominick says, still ensconced in his papers. “But he’s sure seen me.”
He shoves them into his backpack, and I catch glimpses of pencil sketches.
“What are those?” I ask.
“Creepy.” He zips up his backpack. He contorts his face into a look of disgust.
“They’re not what you think. It’s all a big mix-up.”
“So, Leo didn’t draw these?”
My silence is answer enough for him.
“Who gave them to you?
Dominick shrugs. He’s a million miles away from the chill, zen guy at the Jessalyns concert. “They just showed up in my locker.”
Leo springs down the hall to meet us; his legs are practically pogo sticks. My heart crushes down down down with each step he takes closer.
“Hey!” Leo says. He throws his arms around Dominick’s neck, but they’re quickly pushed off.
“I gotta go to class,” Dominick says.
“We can walk there together.” Leo reaches for Dominick’s hand, but is rebuffed.
“No. We can’t.” He brushes past us and joins up with his friends by the stairwell.
I approach Leo, who is doing a lousy job of holding back tears. “What happened?” he asks me.
“Someone found your sketches.”
“How? I kept that notebook in my locker this whole time. I haven’t used it again, like you said. I did exactly what you said.”
“Someone must’ve known about them and made a copy.”
It’s too hard to watch this poor kid’s heart break in front of me, but I can’t go anywhere. I have to be here for him. I feel partially responsible. Hell, I am completely responsible.
“Why would they do that?” His voice wobbles as a pair of tears rolls down his face.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, but it’s a lie. I know exactly why this happened.
Revenge.
He and Dominick are merely pawns in this battle.
“Do you think we’ll work this out?” Leo pleads with me. This is too hard to watch. I wonder how many past victims of mine from my Break-Up Artist days crumpled into similar messes, thanks to me.
“Yes. You two will work through this.”
Dominick dumps Leo via text sometime during third period.
***
I don’t even give Melanie the option. She’s the first friendly face I see in the hall. My bag knocks into some innocent