Chapter Three

 ‘Chibi’ Kobayashi usually had a wet-fish jab, but this punch connected like a hammer blow.

Ashen with shock, the Queen Bee looked at her hand, then back at her two docile friends, who were surprised at the sudden attack.

They all turned to see a trickle of blood snaking out of Mego's left nostril. 

‘Pale-faced Chiyoko’ half-expected some weeping plea for mercy, but the girl before her offered a guttural laugh.

It had been a long time since Mego had laughed this much, like she was doing it for the first time, or in someone else's body. She laughed, as if the world and all its diabolical gifts were one big joke.

With a single motion, Mego wiped her mouth across the sleeve of the Parka jacket, smiling through a face painted with a mixture of blood and snot, like a demented clown borne of violence.

For Chiyoko, this was unknown territory.

Her passage through this primordial wasteland of school life was a glorious reign, especially by those she deemed lesser mortals. Any insolence would result in a veritable blitzkrieg of threats, physical intimidation, or social media shaming that bordered on criminal behaviour.

Free of accountability; it was not her fault if others took it too far. Chiyoko could stomach the dullards, the Goths, even the science types; they all had some temporary usefulness.

The loners, however, were the worst. There was no place for them in her perfect world of instant gratification.

No place for these sullen, unsociable life-forms, who passed through the halls like wraiths. With few friends, they were defenceless and kept themselves isolated from social groups, which made them fresh meat for any band of bullies.

‘Homeless chic’ had become the fashion for modern youth culture, and wearing your father’s jacket was the latest craze. Always one to ignore the bandwagon, Mego was the only one going about her business in a brand new yellow cardigan. Usually, this would not merit a reaction until she drifted into the orbit of Chiyoko Stosur and her Greek chorus of sycophants.

"Check it out," Chiyoko said, in passing. "The lonely girl will have to dig up her Dad to get his coat!”

Predictably, this got a laugh from the Greek chorus of human cattle that followed her everywhere. Oblivious to the insult, Mego continued with all the apathy of an indoor cat, a ghost girl in Suburbia.

Chiyoko immediately took this as an insult.

Mego was supposed to shrink with crippling humiliation; instead, this...nothing was showing a brazen act of defiance by shrugging it off.

Disrespect would not go unpunished.

During the lunchtime queue, Chiyoko quickly positioned herself behind Mego and gave a tap on the shoulder.

" 'Ello mate." The pale girl said, holding up a small Orange. "Would you mind unpeeling this? My nails are too long." Mego dug a thumb into the top part of the fruit before peeling the outer rind and handing it back. "Nice, thanks! What's your name?"

"Mego."

"I'm Chiyoko, my friends call me 'Chibi'. So, how tall are you?

"Five-ten," Mego said. Her gaze strayed toward Chiyoko's three companions. Among the two girls was a fussy-looking male in drainpipe jeans and a plaid shirt buttoned to the choker. His stoic expression masked unwavering condescension.

"Oh, don't worry,” Chiyoko said. “We made him an honorary woman.” Mego said nothing and turned back. Unfurling a thin-lipped smile from her salt-flat face, Chiyoko added, “Why don’t we share a table? Tell us about yourself.”

After a few hours of hanging out, they got acquainted, and Chiyoko invited her to a party.

Inevitably, this turned out to be a cruel trick. A sadistic ruse with a fake address left Mego standing in the freezing rain outside a closed bowling alley in a sketchy part of town.

Mego was too ashamed to call her Mother, but relented after a couple of hours of being cold, wet and humiliated.

The drive home was the worst. She sat in silence while Ami listed the kind of revenge fantasies that would have made Torquemada call for a time-out.

Her daughter only wanted to forget, and every other day after that.

Never again would Mego allow herself to join the collective; she would blur the outsides and avoid the trending masses.

Her faith in humanity had been flayed and re-worn as a cloak of pessimism. The renegade punk philosophy of her Mother now transferred to her with a vengeance.

The payback would be bloodless, but suitably delicious.

All of which culminated in an ambush at the back of the Math department.

***

At the back of the school, a delivery truck drove pass to reveal Mego standing alone, clutching her bag. Chiyoko kept back with two others, both dressed in long leather coats.

 (it was a Goth thing).

No one spoke; they merely eyeballed the other side, waiting to see who would flinch.

Mego slowly placed a stick of gum in her mouth.

Chiyoko smiled, with eyes cold and calm as lakes.

“Hope you brought enough for all of us.”

Mego was unmoved.

“No point.” She said. “Soon there won’t be anyone to share it with.”

The world was quiet, a soft breeze brushing nearby cowbells hanging from a nearby awning.

“Not the best way to spend the last day of school,” Chiyoko said, dully looking around. “I was planning not to come at all.”

“Your boyfriend said as much.”

Chiyoko’s smirk disappeared, and without warning, she strode over and struck Mego across the face.

After the first punch, Chiyoko was still unsure what had occurred. The shock of striking someone still rattled her, but she disguised it under a façade of utter contempt.

"Th-That was on you," She said, slightly trembling. "You should have just walked away."

"You made me wait for two hours in the rain." Mego said. "There were gangs everywhere. I could have been killed or worse, and then killed."

"Oh, that? That was a goof. If you knew me, I like to mess with people."

Mego spat out a gob of blood.

"So do I." She said, chuckling darkly.

Chiyoko's smile vanished into an ugly mask of disdain.

"You took it too far." She said. "You never mess with someone's boyfriend. I had plans. We had plans."

“A box-wine soccer mum drinking herself to sleep? Yeah, you’re all set."

“At least we'd still be together," Chiyoko said, with a snort. "How's your family, by the way? Or what's left of it."

"I'd rather have a dead dad than an undead one." Mego said. "What's yours? Seventy years old? I bet he hired these Chundacats to be your bodyguards. Look at them, their butts so big; the farts don't touch the sides.”

“Hey!” One of the girls said. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped so far.”

“Lucky? You fat asses couldn’t outrun a Hippo in quicksand.”

Incensed, one of Chiyoko’s friends swung a meaty fist that connected like a broadside crash. The power was enough to take Mego down, into a crumpled heap on the grass. The others wasted no time in setting upon her.

A barrage of feet laid into Mego's chest and mid-section, each impact felt like a donkey kick, pouring new waves of pain onto her unprotected torso. They were determined to see it to the bitter end, only to relent when two passing teachers pulled them away.

Mego felt a tangle of arms lift her and winced as the first intake of breath hit her ribs, until she passed out.

Full dark. All water. Drowning.

***Mego came around with a ringing in her ears. She could taste dry air and felt a swirling disorientation every time she lifted her head.

Only after a few seconds did she realise she was lying on an examination table.

A large frosted window lit the first-aid office, surrounded by faded peach walls that had not been touched up since the turn of the century.

All around, old books were neatly stacked on a plastic shelf above an ancient filing cabinet from the seventies, while posters of anatomical cutaways were peppered across the room.

The school nurse dabbed an alcoholic pad across the side of her face, which felt like tiny whiplashes across her cheek.

Principal Gavin Delorca looked at the three girls with the solemn expression of a judge presiding over a sentence. He did not need this on the last day of school.

Mego recoiled at the glare of the lights, which felt like icicles boring into her skull.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"You're in the nurse's office," Delorca said. "You blacked out."

He shot the other girls a pointed look.

"I want to go home," Mego said. "I need to go."

Her breathing was tight. A fresh nasal strip adorned the bridge of her nose.

"You are the victim of an attack. Much as I would like to send you home, school protocol takes precedence. Your mother will be here soon."

"Then you'd better dig three holes."

Delorca returned his hooded gaze to the three girls with both barrels.

"You girls will start the next term under a week's suspension. Despite no lasting damage, I dread to think what would have happened had you taken this further. Whatever drama was going on, this was not worth the taking of someone's life."

“We would have stopped," Chiyoko said. "Eventually."

"Eventually," Mego said, with a snort. "Right."

"You don't mess with people's boyfriends."

"All I said was anyone who wears a Varsity jacket has a ten per cent chance of becoming a pro-athlete. The rest end up as unfulfilled sports dads living through their kids."

"What else did you say?"

"I told him to stop hanging around that wife-beater factory."

"It's called a Frat house and shut up."

"Sigma Delta Moron."

"Enough!" Delorca yelled. "Rest assured, Scooter Bovin will be called into questioning if this goes any further."

"Scooter?" Mego said. She felt a laugh barrel out of her. "Terry's real name is Scooter?!"

"You shut up," Chiyoko said, through gritted teeth.

"Hey, was Scooter born with a popped collar? Did he sexually harass the midwife? Does he have siblings named Skateboard and Roller-blade?"

Chiyoko rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, will someone please shut her up?"

Suddenly, Ami burst in with laser focus. A sharp intake of breath held in her throat as she saw the battered face of her daughter.

"Holy shit," She said quietly, her face pale with horror. "Oh my God."

Mego remained frozen, while incremental shots of pain lit up through the tributaries of her body. She winced as her mother knelt to encase her in a light hug.

Ami's face suddenly clouded with anger, with all hellfire burning in her gaze.

"Who did this? Which one of you dies today?"

A chill hung in the air like a tolling of bells before an execution.

"Mrs Kinugawa, perhaps you'd like to sit?" He said. "All you girls can wait outside." The three friends shuffled out in a single file. "Not you, Mego, we still need your side of it."

Mego was in no mood to peel off the table. Her bones felt stuffed with asbestos, her face was stiff as ply and bloomed with pain.

Ami gave her daughter a searching look.

"What the hell happened?" She said. "Why didn't you fight back?"

Mego looked away, in the hope of drawing a line under the whole incident, to enjoy what was left of the day.

Mr Delorca, who tidied his posture.

"Mrs Kinugawa, your daughter was involved in an incident with a few of the girls. Even though she sustained a sprained arm, we are taking every precaution. It appears to have been a one-sided fight. Mego didn't retaliate."

"That's called attempted murder." She looked at Mego, hard blue eyes burning bright. "You should have deleted that bitch."

Ami's philosophy was that if the school wanted to punish the victim, at least make sure the bully was beaten enough to have lasting regrets. Her small mouth hardened into a tight frown, her large eyes narrowed with boiling vengeance.

"Mego is lucky to be alive," Delorca said. "Apparently, those girls weren't going to relent."

"No, I think it's the other way round," Ami said, her tone laced with quiet menace. "They are the ones who are lucky, because I would have come for all of them."

An unnerved silence frosted the conversation to a standstill.

"Mum is a boxing champion." Mego said. "It's amazing and weird."

Mr Delorca nodded, impressed.

"I am surprised Mego didn't defend herself," he said.

"We always made sure she knew enough to send a message., Ami said. She shook her head. "But this...This I don't get."

"It was three against one," Delorca said

"That's how it starts, with kids standing around pulling faces. Then the pushing starts, and that's the time to strike, Boom!" Ami swung out an elbow and slapped her forearm. "As footballers say, get your retaliation in first."

"That word means the complete opposite."

"They're footballers."

Everyone was suddenly distracted by the heated discussion outside the door. The plaintive whine of Chiyoko was clear enough, but the new voice was that of a well-spoken woman, with clipped pronunciations. The door opened and in stepped a tall, attractive redhead, clad in a long white woollen coat.

"Good afternoon." She said.

"Mrs Stosur," Delorca said. He shook her hand delicately.

"Plethora, please. I heard my daughter was involved in an incident?"

"Your daughter started the incident," Ami said, doing away with the pleasantries.

"I’m sorry, who are you?"

"Mrs Kinugawa. The victim's mother."

"No, Mister Kinugawa?"

Ami shot her a deep freeze.

"No." She said. "Just me. Mego's fine though, thanks for asking."

Plethora picked up a chair and poured herself neatly onto it, resting thin manicured hands on her cream-coloured pencil skirt.

"I want you to know that I am sorry for any distress my daughter has caused." She said. Her words were twinkling with canned sincerity. "She will be duly punished."

Ami chuckled with disbelief.

"What does that mean? No tiara after dinner? Ground the flying Unicorn?"

"Are you suggesting I don't know how to discipline my child?"

"No, I am stating it, right?" Ami said. "Look what they did to Mego. Look at her." Plethora Stosur twisted her goose neck around. "That's not a playful slap, it's GBH. Set upon by feral children."

"Again, my apologies. It has been an unfortunate day."

She made it sound like someone had caught a bacterial infection from a poorly made lunch.

"That's not enough, your daughter is out of control," Ami said. "She has a sense of entitlement unearned because she thinks any problem can be solved if you throw enough money at it."

"To be fair, anything can be solved if you throw money at it."

"Then hire someone to raise your kid."

"I'm guessing you wish she were more like you," Plethora said.

"Oh no," Ami said. "Because then Mego would be going to jail." She let out a deep breath and dialled back the aggression. "I suggest you should find your daughter a hobby, one that doesn't involve tormenting others."

"For your information, Chiyoko has a video on the internet."

Ami scoffed. "I bet she does."

Mego disguised a laugh as a cough, while Mr Delorca looked away.

"She is what is known as an 'Influencer'."

"Influenza?"

“Cartoon people living in cartoon houses,” Mego said, leaning forward.

"She and her dog have a series," Plethora added.

"What's the dog's name?"

"You'll have to ask her."

"Parent of the year. Good job."

"Does your daughter have a plan for the future?" Plethora asked. "I suppose we can rule out punching bag, but you never can tell."

Ami looked like she was on the verge of inflicting some serious blunt-force trauma. Delorca raised a hand.

"Let's try to keep this civil." He said. "We all want to send a message that violence in any capacity is unacceptable."

"I am sorry," Plethora said. "There's a clear sign that my daughter was provoked."

"Oh, do go on," Ami said, bristling.

"According to Mim, this...your..."

"Her name is Mego."

"Of course. Mego." The redhead spoke the name as if a spider had climbed into her mouth. "She had reportedly taken it upon herself to cause great distress to Chiyoko's boyfriend. My daughter was merely protecting his interests."

"Terry Bovin, the superstar athlete?" Ami said. "Are you seriously suggesting Mego brought him down by wounding his precious male ego?"

"Believe it or not, his ego is what makes him a success. That self-belief drives him on, knowing you are better than everyone. Well, most of us."

Ami ignored the slight and smiled.

"It’s funny you sound more enthusiastic talking about this, Terry, than the welfare of your daughter.”

"What are you insinuating?"

"I think like Terry more than you want us to believe."

The redhead huffed. "That is absurd. I love my husband."

"Oh, come on," Ami said, with a mischievous grin. "This boy has put the sparkle back into your water, and you just want to drink it all in."

"I am a mode," Plethora said. "I can get anyone I like."

"And you still chose a suitcase full of dead cats."

"My husband happens to be very attractive."

Ami let out a laugh. "He's a prolapse with spray-on hair!"

Flustered, Plethora walked toward the door before pausing.

"How will the school discipline my daughter?" She asked.

"Two weeks' suspension," Mr Delorca said. "Maybe more if Mego's injuries exacerbate."

Ami picked at a nail. "That means if Mego dies, she ain't going alone."

Plethora nodded steadily, was moved to say something, but left anyway. Ami helped her daughter up. "I guess we are done here. Oh yes, report card. We mustn't forget."

Delorca handed her a medium-sized Manila envelope. Ami nodded appreciatively before leaving the office.

Passing through the reception area, Mego avoided eye contact with the other girls before stopping at the doorway. She then sighed. Ami looked back.

“What is it?”

“One of them has my wallet,” Mego said quietly.

“Huh,” Ami said. She approached the bench where the two girls were seated.

“Alright, cough it up.” No answer. All eyes were turned away. Frustrated, Ami pulled a power drill from her bag. “I AIN’T playing here.”

The two girls shrank in fear.

“Jesus!” Mego said.

“Come on, come on.” The girl on the left shakily fished Mego’s wallet out. Ami snatched it and slapped it against the girl’s temple. “Naughty!”

“Do we have a problem here?” Delorca said.

“Just making friends, Chief.”

“Go home, Mrs Kinugawa.”

“En route!” Ami said. She then nodded to the girls. “Ladies.”

They found Stosur milling around the School entrance. Plethora was deep in her Tote bag with one hand clasping a phone.

"No hard feelings," Ami said, waving.

"My Daddy's a lawyer," Chiyoko said, caustic spite burning from within.

Mrs Kinugawa stopped, turned around and smiled.

"Oh, and you would have needed him, Cupcake." She said. "Because had that beating gone any further, I would've made a crowd outta you. Do you really wanna see a fight?"

"Are you threatening my daughter?" Plethora said.

"I don't make threats, love. It gives them a head start. This one is young, so I'll go easy."

"You will never have what I have."

"Loneliness and regret," Ami said. "Yeah, sucks to be me." She started to walk backwards toward the exit. "Look at your family, ask yourself if you have ever felt close to them. Then, you have my permission to cry."

With that, she opened the door for Mego, leaving the Kobayashi to stare in their wake.

Outside, thick clouds lined the overcast sky like grey ropes, which brought a southern chill. Ami hesitated at the foot of the wheelchair ramp that led up to the main entrance. She lit a cigarette and blew out a jet of blue smoke until the frustration was vented. Mego took a moment to lean against the flaking white rail.

"I thought you were going to deck that woman." Mego said.

"Twenty years ago, it would have been a bloodbath," Ami said. "Of course, twenty years ago, you weren't around, so it's all academic." She looked away. "Y'know, all this could've been prevented if you had just defended yourself."

Mego frowned. "I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"Yeah, well, your new fan club didn't get the memo."

"What’s a memo?”

"It doesn’t matter, just swear to me you won't do that again."

"I swear."

"For God's sake, Mego, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Punishing yourself is not going to bring the boys back, so enough, alright?"

"Yes, mum."

Ami moved out of the way to let the Kobayashi pass by and watched them climb into an SUV.

"Let's go." She said. "This place is depressing."

She led Mego through the half-empty car park, shaded under the boughs of overhanging trees. Much to her annoyance, leaves had lit on the bonnet of her white Dodge Demon.

After helping her daughter into the car, Ami turned on the ignition and let the engine warm up. Low sounds rumbled from within.

"One day you're going to have to get rid of this Beast." Mego said. "It's way too flashy."

"What's wrong with flash?" Ami said. "You wanna be boring like everyone else?"

"I'm already boring, I didn't even get a birthday present."

Ami slammed the door. "You want presents? Stop nickin' my cigs."

***

Back in the present day, Mego spat out another wad into the sink. Trickles of cobalt lined the sink, tracking fingers of blue toward the sinkhole. She studied the oily liquid closely; something about it smelled of rotten eggs.

"Huh. Weird."

Distracted by a hypnotic bead that slicked down her hand, Mego gasped upon seeing a man regard her with quiet curiosity.

The stranger was dressed in a black suit, cut like butter and fitting to perfection, topped off with a matching Fedora. He had a long, pale face with dead, blank eyes buried under a pair of thick shades.

What struck Mego the most was her initial reaction; there was no sense of unease or fear, but a sudden need to be battle-ready, like a knight bracing for an incoming attack. For someone who avoided fights out of habit, this took her by surprise.

“Hey.” She said. “Y-you can’t be in here.”

The stranger approached her before turning at the last step and activating the sink. He removed the hat to smooth back a mane of ice-white hair cut above the hairline.

"Take out the coin." The man said, with a flat, mechanical tone.

"Did you hear me?"

"The one in your right pocket."

Shrugging, Mego reluctantly fished out a two-pence piece. It began to glow without heat before fading out of reality.

"What the hell?"

"That will be you if you breathe a word of what happened today." The Stranger said, staring at the mirror. Mego could not help but notice how the man’s mouth was a perfect line, and he appeared to be wearing grease paint. Like a clown. "Understand?"

"Who are you?" Mego asked.

“You don’t want to know.” The Stranger said, heading for the exit.

Something laughed inside of Mego's head; laughter thick like molasses, but somewhat joyless. She had carried the voice for years, but always dismissed it as the echo of her conscience. Only then did the voice address her personally.

"What do you mean, call him back?" Mego whispered to herself. "Who is this? Oh, you have something to say. Well, tell him yourself. I don't care! Whose fault is that? Fine. FINE!. I'll tell him. Jeez." She cleared her throat. "Hold on, I have a message."

The stranger turned, somewhat intrigued.

"Message?" He said. "What message?"

Mego looked up and sighed..

"It's not from me," She said."So don't get pissed off if it hurts your feelings," She placed two fingers upon her temple. "The message is: Fourth-dimensional interloper, we do not answer to the likes of you. You are so far behind in the great filter; you still resort to primitive disguises. I know your people are watching, so this is just for them.’ That’s it; done. I'm taking a shit." She gestured to the stalls.

Moved to speak, something caught in the stranger’s throat.

Tugging at the collar, his expression became one of great distress. A strangled scream barely left the man’s waxy lips before he slowly faded into a translucent outline, leaving the glasses and hat to drop into a puddle of empty clothes.

"Oh-kay," Mego said, her voice quivering. "I guess I know magic."

More laughter rippled quietly from inside her head.

Not magic. The voice said. Pest control.

“Who are you?" No answer. Her hands began to shake. Numbness swept over her limbs like fog, claiming the countryside. She looked up at the ceiling and all around. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?"

Mego slammed her fist against the wall.

Why can’t they leave me alone?

Dressed in her new Sweater, Mego hurried out of the bathroom, her mind buzzing with a thousand questions. Pale and sweaty, she propped herself against a nearby wall, trying to settle her pounding heart, the sense of being like a side character in her own story.

It's not right, it's not right. Mego thought, covering her mouth with a handkerchief. Fuck.

With the help of a Vending machine, she bought a bottle of Lemonade and took a swig. Nothing made sense anymore.

After a quick recovery, she found the right screen, barely noticing a handful of cinema-goers, most of them couples. For the second time that day, she was grateful for other people being present. Although the last time she felt that way, the ‘people’ turned out to be a hideous fever dream. What was that?

Pale relief became a cold lick of dread.

Was it better to stay in the dark? Mego didn’t feel safe. What were the alternatives? Slink around the streets after closing time and end up forced into a car? Mego didn’t want to think anymore; she just wanted to turn off her brain for the next two hours. The audio boomed into life as a logo filled the screen.

Might as well get comfortable, it’s gonna be a long night.