“Listen,” she says, pushing her bangs out of her face, “Reg and I are going out to see a movie. You okay here?”

I think for a minute of what it would be like to try to tell her how I feel, about what’s happened. I worry that she’d bring Reg in, that she’d share it on Facebook in some attempt to protect other kids, that somehow she would make matters worse. She’s just like all the parents who think they’re keeping an eye on what we’re doing by being on Facebook or reading articles, but we’re slippery and fast. We’re so far ahead that they couldn’t catch up if they tried.

“Yeah, sure.” I smile, because she needs me to, because I am careful.

“That’s my girl.” She looks so relieved. “Okay, gotta get ready!” And she’s gone, and I hear her in her room, humming and getting changed.

Later, I watch them get into the Reg-mobile and drive away on a date, and the ground opens up like a gaping mouth and swallows all the birds and worms and raindrops until the street is empty and quiet except for the rain. I let the curtain fall back.

I play around on my laptop, editing for a while; then I look at the comments on my last vid. There’s a new one:

SHOW US YOUR TITS.

And another:

GOD NO PLEASE DON’T

LOL

LMAO

My phone buzzes. There is another message from that same unknown number.

Let’s meet up. I won’t bite.

My curiosity is piqued. But no. Too risky. I need to think. Because I know that everybody bites.

Chapter 10

10

The next night, I go to the bathroom and turn the tap on for a bath. I sit on the counter and chew my nails until the tub is full, then step in. It is boiling hot, but I keep lowering myself into it, loving and hating the heat. I always make my baths scalding hot, so hot it feels cold. I freeze in position with my ass half in, holding on to the sides, making some oh oh oh oh sounds, but then get all the way in. When I get out, there will be a red imprint like a sunburn over most of my body. I love how everything seems to shrink back, like my nails separating from my fingers, when I get in. It’s the best, that terrible heat.

Let’s meet up. I won’t bite.

The radio on the counter is playing some weird station I found. It’s old sixties-sounding French music.