CHAPTER 3: THE GAMES WE PLAY

...in which we see Iggy’s problem with grown-up thoughts, and it all starts to get interesting with Ash. Disturbing? It’s supposed to be. This is a horror-romance, remember? So it’s horror first, romance later.

*****

Get up, get up, rise and shine and all the rest of it!

I don’t want to.

But it’s Counselling Day!

Exactly.

We get to talk to Miss Fanne.

Which is why I’m staying in bed.

You should work on HER rather than your stupid loverboy.

She doesn’t need any work from me. She’s dark through and through already.

So you should eat her up already.

I’d rather eat my own puke than her toilet bowl of vulgar darkness.

All you eat is fear. Fear won’t make you strong. You need to feed from someone like Miss Fanne for that.

Well, I refuse to. I don’t like her kind of dark. It’s rotten, stinky, bitter, nasty dark. It just tastes bad.

Too bad, I happen to like her. So up you get.

Hey, stop that. Don’t... take over... my body!

It’s our body. And I’m hungry. So shut up and I’ll take this one.

Fine. I’ll be the watcher today, you get to drive. Great start to the week!

.

.

My Voice does a stellar job getting us to school on time. I do that sometimes, let Voice take Iggy for a spin. I’m not supposed to, it’s just one of those rules that every one of our kind knows. But I do it anyway. Mostly when I’m feeling lazy or demotivated or not very hungry. Or at times like now, when Voice wants me to feed but I don’t feel like it.

Voice steers Iggy into Miss Fanne’s office. Her skirt is riding up her pale, flabby thighs. Her blouse is on the tacky side of see-through. Her lipstick is too red, and it doesn’t match her coloured mascara.

Be quiet! I’m in charge today.

The one riding shotgun gets to make the snide remarks, right?

Stay down. I need to concentrate. It’s been ages since you let me drive!

.

“Good morning, Miss Fanne.”

“Oh, there you are, sweetheart. Come right in.”

.

Doing a great job with the polite little boy act there, Voice. I don’t think she suspects anything.

Quit messing around and do your job!

Ok, I’m in her head now. It’s sticky and yucky as usual.

Whatever... start looking for something to eat.

Do I really have to look at her thoughts? My skin is starting to crawl at the prospect.

Stop arguing. This is for your benefit as well.

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“May I sit down here, Miss Fanne?”

Genteel laugh. “You can sit anywhere you want, dear boy.”

The glasses that she doesn’t need but wears for effect come off.

“You should always think of my room as a safe place, where you can be yourself.”

.

Sure. I feel as safe here as a banana in a monkey house. Anyway, I’ve found the place. I can see myself. ... Hey, you know who she’s got us paired up with this time? The freaking janitor!

And that is exactly the kind of thing you should be sucking up, not all that fear. Fear is like junk food. Tasty but empty. This is what will make you grow up fast.

She has him and us in the dental nurse’s office, after school when everyone else has gone home.

Correction. Him and you. I don’t exist in the physical plane, remember?

Fine. Him and me. Or him and I, whatever. She has me on the dentist’s chair, and I’m... well, I’m in the usual state she has me in. The uncomfortable one.

Yes... I can smell it. The aroma of her twisted imagination... It’s quite intoxicating.

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“What will we talk about today, Miss Fanne?”

“Let’s see now. We’re scheduled to do... oh, career aptitude!”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It is! Now, I just need to ask you a few questions about your, y’know, likes and dislikes. Shall we start?”

“Sure, Miss Fanne. What’s the first one?”

“Here we go then. Do you get stressed easily?”

“Oh, no, Miss Fanne. I’m, like, super laid-back.”

Fake laugh. “So you are... look at you, sitting there so relaxed...”

.

She has him in his overalls only—nope, she changed her mind—so... Oh, come on, does she really think he has that kind of body? Mr. Soda, Chips and Pizza? For that matter, I am not that pale! I shot hoops all last weekend shirtless in the sun. Why’s she making me so pasty? And why do I have that look on my face? Why does he have that look on his face?

Don’t go soft on me, Iggy. You’re sticking it out this time.

I’m feeling sick. Can we stop now?

No. She’s just getting warmed up. Aren’t you loving those lovely gooey luscious DARK imaginings of hers?

.

“So what’s next, Miss Fanne?”

“Do you like being with other people, or do you prefer to be alone?”

“I dunno. Sometimes I like to hang out with my peeps. Sometimes not. Does that help?”

“It’s fine, dear, you just answer whatever occurs to you. Next question...”

.

I hate the view from this dentist’s chair, and I swear I’m getting cramps in my thigh muscles even if this is her head that I’m inside. Oh shhheeeeettt, the janitor’s getting started with his brushes – those stiff ones he uses to scrub the floor. Oh, for... I don’t want those brushes touching me! Especially not th... This is too damn much!

Man up, Iggy. It’s getting so real to her that she can almost taste it. Her darkness is lusciously thick and creamy... melt-in-the-mouth decadence, that’s what it is.

Stop arranging my body into those poses! You’re as bad as she is!

.

“Miss Fanne?”

“Oh, sorry, drifted off for a bit. Let’s see... just two more questions, I think.”

She’s sweating and her makeup is melting even in the air-conditioning. I hate how’s she’s enjoying herself at my expense.

“I’m ready, Miss Fanne.”

.

I’m ‘ready’, alright. Ready to give up. She has him using a broom now. But wait, why is it the handle that he’s... owwwww!

Naughty’s turned nasty. Cruelty and pleasure. Strong stuff. There’s guilt in the mix too, gives it a bite of bitterness... perfectly seasoned with despise at your innocent little face.

Easy for you to say, it’s not you she’s playing games with. Stop smiling at her like an idiot! She’ll think you like all this stinky rotten slime!

Oh, but I do like this. I love her mind! It’s absolutely oozing with darkness. Only this darkness has got some meaty bite to it; so much more satisfying than Stan’s thin, sour fear.

Don’t wet your pants, you glutton. She’s starting to look at you funny.

.

“Miss Fanne? Are there any more questions?”

“Oh, yes, yes indeed... Where were we, dear?”

“Being alone or with others.”

“Right, right... So the next one is... do you care strongly about others?”

“I like love stories. Does that count? I mean, I think that everyone can love whoever they want in whatever way they like.”

“I’ll just... write that down.”

.

Rich, complex, unapologetically wicked... the kind of feed you could be getting all the time if only you’d get over your prissy obsession over keeping it ‘pure’. Anger is malice is greed is lust is depravity is food to us. Think about that... perpetually, blissfully full instead of always half-starved the way you keep us.

That is NOT our janitor, this guy that she’s made up. He’s a freak! What is she having him do now? There’s NO way in hell that I can... That’s it! I’ve had enough! Give me back the body right now!

*Sigh* Wimp! I wasn’t done eating!

.

.

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He looks up as I walk past. I am still too distracted by Miss Fanne; I make the mistake of making eye contact. The concern in his eyes is like a flame that sears my eyes. But I can’t look away, like some insect flying into a speeding car’s headlights.

“You ok, Iggy?”

I break away with an effort, look at the floor instead. “Yeah, swell.”

He makes his next move. “Miss Fanne... She’s a little... intense... sometimes.”

She probably plays games in her head with you too, Kemosabe. You might not be able to see the scenes she’s got you in, but I’m betting you can sense the vibes coming off her like the stink from a week-old piece of raw steak left in the trash.

I shrug, put on a stoic look that’s just wobbly enough at the edges to be totally unconvincing. “Yeah?” And now for that tiny quiver of my lower lip. “Things got... y’know... a bit personal.”

There it is... the squaring of shoulders, setting of the jaw. He’s going into protector mode now. “What’d she do?”

I shake my head vehemently. “Oh, it was nothing. It was just me being too touchy.” An upwards flick of a glance, moved away just as soon as he catches it.

I can sense his indecision. Should he leave it at this? Take this opportunity to inch just that bit closer to me? He wants to do the latter, but he’s hesitating, afraid of his own wish.

He needs just a little more encouragement. So I give it to him.

“It’s been kind of rough at home.” I say that looking down at my fingers twisting themselves into pretzel shapes, but at the same time looking at him out of the corner of my eye – and making sure that he knows he’s being looked at.

He enters my personal space. I back up a fraction of an inch, just enough to sow a seed of doubt. Let the questions begin: Is he coming on too strong? Is he giving the wrong message, too fast? Is he inadvertently driving me away? Why does he care so much about my possible reaction?

The last question has shaken him. He tries to deny everything. “Hey, look... if you want to talk or anything...”

I flash him a grateful smile which stops him thinking for a second or two.

Ignition. All those confused feelings of wanting and doubting are back in full force.

“Thanks, Ash.” I reach out towards him as if to touch his hand, only to abruptly draw back my hand in sudden consternation like I’d caught myself doing something I shouldn’t. The gesture does not go unnoticed.

“Um... yeah... cause I kind of li—” he catches himself just in time. “I mean, people like us gotta stick together.” I hide the jubilant smile that’s rising to my face. He had almost confessed his ‘liking’ for me. Things are going exactly the way I want them to.

I smile again, shyly this time. “That makes me feel better.” And I make sure I brush against him as I go to my seat.

He’s still confused. But the gladness that emanates from him is genuine and unforced.

And it’s making me feel scandalously, dangerously, sickeningly... happy.

.

.

Idiot! We just ate! What do you think you’re doing letting that nauseating light in here?

I’m just baiting him. Let him think he’s winning me over.

Liar! Falling for him, is what you are.

I’m cultivating him. There’s a difference. Can’t you see that it’s all part of the game?

The game you’re playing with him and the game Miss Fanne was playing with you... Just what is the difference between them? And yet you hate her game and you’re liking this one way too much. What gives, Iggy?

I know what I’m doing.

Fine. It’s not my ass on the line. And I mean that, like, literally. *Gleeful cackle*

I catch his eye from across the room. The reassuring smile he gives me has a promising edge of guiltiness underlying it.