Side Effects May Vary

We went our separate ways for first and second period, but met back up for third period, like she’d told me to. Because of the all-day seminar, the student body was on a rotating schedule so that not everyone missed class all at once. My and Alice’s classes were scheduled for some time in the afternoon, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Luke had third-period weight training.

Alice and I met up outside the gymnasium door. When she walked up, her skin was a little yellow and her breathing ragged.

“You ready?” I asked.

She nodded and tried breathing through her nose.

Alice slid a key from her back pocket and unlocked the windowless door in front of us. I followed her up the back stairs to the gymnasium sound booth, which was set up so that we entered through the hallway outside the gym and took a steep set of stairs to the box above the bleachers. We couldn’t see the presentations since the booth sat behind the makeshift stage, but it was the same thing every year. Four students—usually seniors—would stand in blue jeans and white T-shirts with fake blood and bruises all over their faces pretending to be dead drunk drivers. It was dark, except for a few emergency lights. Each student held their own flashlight and flicked it on, holding it beneath their chin, when it was their turn to speak. Above the students on stage hung a large projector screen, flashing images of totaled cars. On the desk in front of Alice and me sat the laptop controlling the pictures on the screen. If it weren’t for the nerves, I would have felt like God.

Each of the four students said the same things but with different words. I should have known better. One drink wasn’t worth it. I killed myself and my girlfriend. There was a whole family in the other car, and it wasn’t their fault I was drunk, but it’s my fault that they’re dead. I should have listened. I should have stayed.

I guess if I hadn’t heard the exact same thing at the seminar last year, the whole thing would have been a little more impactful. But the scare tactics didn’t really work on the student body, and the faculty usually spent the entire time milling through the bleachers, threatening students with detention if they didn’t shut up.

“You have the disc?” asked Alice, with her hand out.

I unzipped the front pocket of my backpack and handed it over. Alice hit the button on the side of the computer and the CD-ROM tray slid open. Looping her finger through the center of the disc, she used her other hand to pull out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. Hitting the speaker button, she said, “Here we go.”

I began to sweat. From everywhere. My hands, my back, my head.

The phone rang so many times I thought he might not—

Luke picked up. “I think you have the wrong number.”

“Oh, no,” said Alice. “I most definitely do not.”

I looked out over the gymnasium; it sounded like this part of the presentation was almost over.

“Whatever, psycho,” he said. “I’m hanging up now.”

Alice smirked.

My stomach turned.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Luke. Now listen to me very carefully.” She stood.

He said nothing, but I could hear him breathing into the receiver.

“I’ve come across quite the interesting picture of you swapping spit with someone of the same sex.”

Silence.

“Now, Luke, I have no problem with this. But I happen to know that your small mind does and that you’ve fucked over one too many people for this to end neatly for you.” Alice paced back and forth. “Still listening?”

He grunted. “You’re lying. There is no picture. I’d never kiss a dude. That’s disgusting.”

“You have—” She glanced at the clock on the computer. “Three minutes to get to the gymnasium and stop this picture from going public.”

“What the fuck is your problem, you crazy bitch?” His voice was low with urgency and terror. He sounded like I felt.

This was wrong. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Well, I’m dying, so that seems to be a problem. But the pressing issue here would be the bruises you gave Tyson Chapman. These pictures of cars are getting awfully tedious. I think it’s time we spice things—”

The phone went dead. Luke knew the picture was real.

I bit down hard on my lip, the taste of copper in my mouth, and shook my head. “How do you know he won’t come up here?”

Alice slid her phone into her pocket and sat down next to me. “He’s not that smart.” Touching her hand to my leg, she said, “Harvey, trust me. For two minutes, trust me.”