We are very alone. Now’s my moment.
Sharon slaps Rachael hard enough that she falls backwards off the bed. I move fast, until I’m standing in front of Sharon, her face shocked at the speed at which I’ve crossed the room. She’s holding Rachael’s other arm, the one she hasn’t broken yet, twisting it backward unnaturally. Rachel is giving off a low-pitched whine that sounds like a trapped animal.
I ball up my right fist and throw my first punch.
It’s a good one.
It connects perfectly with Sharon’s jaw and she flies back hard enough that when she hits the wall she leaves a little dent in it. She slides down and lands on her butt unceremoniously. Rachael scrambles under the bed like a kicked dog and Sharon looks up at me from the ground, one hand cupping her jaw. It’s broken. I look at my fist, shocked at the power there.
“J’am gong ta kl yoj,” she says, continuing to hold her broken jaw as if to keep it from falling off. I step back so we’re further away from the bed Rachael is hiding under. Sharon lunges and sends an awkward punch toward me, which I catch easily in my hand. I begin squeezing her fist until her hand breaks and the bones turn to powder under the pressure. She screams, but all I can see are Rachael’s tiny shoes peeking out from under her bed. Even her feet look terrified. Something snaps in me as I stare at Rachael’s terrified feet and I suddenly can’t stand someone like Sharon anymore. Her very existence disgusts me.
I push Sharon away from me, hard, intending to be done with her, but she trips on the edge of one of the beds and crashes through a window. I dive after her as she goes through the glass, trying desperately to catch her, but I’m too late. She falls three stories onto the grass below. I watch horrified, paralyzed, my heart in my throat. Sharon’s body is twisted badly on the grass below me. I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and walk out of the room, Rachael gazing at me from under the bed, her face some strange mix of horror and thanks.
Fortunately for me, Sharon has been such a problem that nobody is inclined to believe her that the mute girl, who has never harmed a soul before, has attacked her unprovoked. For her part Rachael is silent, claiming to have seen nothing. When they find me, nearly a quarter of a mile away, at the other end of the compound, reading peacefully under a tree, not a mark on me, it settles any suspicions that I might be involved no matter what Sharon proclaims.
Sharon’s hip, jaw, and shoulder are broken and her right hand is mostly crushed.
Seeing her on the ground all twisted is something I will never forget. And it makes me careful. I decide then and there, watching the ambulance cart her away that it’s the last time I will be so careless. I had gone further with Sharon than I had ever intended, hurt her far beyond what was reasonable and it scares me to see my power; to see that I’m maybe not totally in control of it. My emotions had raged when she’d been standing there in front of me. She had seemed disgusting, like an affront to everything I felt inside, and that rage scares me. I don’t know if that power exists beyond that rage – can I even tap into it at that level without also tapping into that rage? I’m not sure. It’s terrifying.
And so I become more solitary than ever before. If it is possible to be more silent than being mute, I find it.
And I remain incredibly alone.
And I wait patiently for someone to open the front door for me.
•
I meet him the next day for lunch near one of the big casinos, the one with the giant lion face entrance. Inside this one all the cocktail waitresses on the casino floor are dressed like Dorothy, which I think is really lame, but then I see all the guys ogling them and realize they're totally getting off on it. I don't know why I'm surprised by these things. But Adrian never takes his eyes off me, no matter how hot a Dorothy walks by.
We go into some rainforest restaurant. I have no idea what a rainforest has to do with The Wizard of Oz, but whatever. We walk through a giant aquarium at the entrance, which looks really cool, but suddenly has me worried he's taking me to some kind of fish place, and I don't really like fish. So I'm nervous all of a sudden, but wondering at the same time why I care what he thinks. It seems to go against all my instincts to care, but there’s something about it that also feels natural, like maybe how any girl feels on a date and so I don't know whether to embrace it or shun it, which leaves me only more confused. As we walk by a family eating, I see a hamburger on someone's plate and relax a bit. We sit in a cushy leather booth and the hostess leaves us with menus. It’s not three seconds before an overly cheerful voice assaults us.
"Welcome to MGM Grand's Rainforest Adventure! Can I get you something to drink or an app to start?" I feel like the waitress is practically screaming at us in her enthusiasm.