SONG: Nelly Furtado - Promiscuous ft. Timbaland

🌺

April

"Where are you going?" asks Kaison, watching me tug on an oversized, denim jacket. My nephew has Meharini's umber skin, her round, fleshy cheeks, and Mike's heart-wrenching, dimpled smile.

I comb his father's coiled, velvety and sleepy dark hair. "I'm going to a party."

He hugs my legs, looking up with a pleading, "Can I come?"

"What about our duel?" Ethan interrupts from the doorway, wielding a light-saber. His long curls are tied into a low ponytail, a strand cascading over his dark gaze.

Kaison pouts at me. "Sorry. I'm busy. Next time I'll come with you!"

I grin, ruffling his clutters. "Hit Uncle, okay?"

"For the thousandth time, stop calling me that," grumbles Ethan. "You're making me feel old."

Kaison cracks his uncle with a cunning smirk. He sticks out his pinkie to me. "I'll wallop him, Aunty."

"So hard that he'll cry?" I tease.

Kaison nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, yes."

Ethan playfully squints his eyes. "We shall put that to the test."

"Kais, which shade?" I ask, holding up two lipsticks.

The little boy taps his chin in examination. He picks a dark scarlet hue. "This one! Can you put it on me, too, please?"

I fake-paint his lips. He rubs his mouth, smacking it open. He drops his lightsaber, skipping to the mirror, a huge grin erupting. He runs out, nearly slamming into Ethan, his thuds echoing down the stairs. "Momma! Momma! Look what Aunty did! I look so pretty like her!"

*

I've been friends with Camila and Aashvi since Year 7. We tell each other everything. Aashvi is practically another sister. She often bombards our house without notice, wearing pajamas—she lives two minutes away—and my parents don't mind. Occasionally, we go to Aashvi's house for delicious dinners of South Indian food, surprisingly similar to Sri Lankan cuisine.

Destiny? Ever since she cheated on Derek, not so much. Recently, my disdain for her has grown. She thrives on being the centre of attention. Ines Chey joined Edgewater Independent at the beginning of Sixth Form, instantly turning heads. I don't blame them—Ines is stunning. Out of spite, Destiny discovered Ines was in a relationship with a guy from her old school called Holden Tasse, who was 'cheating' on her with Edgewater Independent girls. Destiny dismissed that cruel incident, messaged Holden, and formed a bond. He recklessly sent Destiny some pictures of Ines, which she leaked to the whole school. Her actions astounded me.

I rushed to Ines and saw her crying next to Tanner, Jasmine Saint, and Naila Akintola. The sight triggered disappointed rage; hence I confronted Destiny.

"You're disgusting," I said. "How can you shame Ines for something that was never your business in the first place? Are you that desperate for male validation?"

"It's not my fault that she's a slut—"

I slapped her, a sharp sound that initiated gasps. Destiny stumbled back onto the table. She screamed, no doubt mortified, and lunged to retaliate. Luckily, Derek Matthews and Jasmine Saint were present—Jasmine stood protectively before me, while Derek restrained her against the wall.

Camila is a weird one. I noticed she's becoming distant lately. This started way before her awful incident. Aasvhi and her have gotten closer. Sometimes, I would catch the two with Destiny rather than me, which hurts me sometimes.

Music pulsates Roy's white-walled mansion. The lawns on the left are lifted as a hill. A hexagon-checkered pathway is flared by golden lights, leading to the main doors. Neon colours brighten the inside, a war of clashing lights, a rave of dancing silhouettes.

The drum bass deafens my body into a boneless mush, constricting my chest. The guests are engulfed in glow-in-the-dark accessories, and giddy students stagger out of the photo booths with their partners and friends.

Ahead, I discern Aashvi descending the stairs, arms crossed. Substantial distress in her brown eyes, "Everyone was wondering when you'll show up."

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

Her smile wavers. "He's here. Cami's fine. She's upstairs with the rest." She observes for eavesdroppers and whispers, "She's drunk and nearly told people what happened."

"We have to do something, Aash. Bodie can't get away that easily—"

"I know, which is why Cami is telling her parents tomorrow."

*

The rooftop—a canopy, an awning of fairy lights—is expansive with grassy beds as the side aisles and a stone-marble floor. The sliding floor-to-ceiling window is open, delicate whiffs demolishing the heat. I close the door, disrupting Hunar Dash. Roy looks over, his cold gaze warming down my legs. The basketball team and a couple of footballers are present, encircling the table stacked with drugs and alcohol.

"April Levesque!" cheers a football player in my Psychology class.

Roy's pleased smile falters, many friendly faces beaming at my entry.

"Hi, everyone," I say shyly. "Um, Tanner isn't here?"

"Nah, he got some tests to study for. You know how he is."

A girl pouts. "Sad. I was hoping he'd be here."

"He's so hot," agrees a guy.

I despise the boys on the basketball team, except Roy, Tanner and Jackson Saint. Senseless, shallow, dry, and have ill-mannered, classist views. Roy used his beguiling charm to develop diplomatic terms—one of the main reasons the team elected him as their leader. I tried encouraging him to find better friends, but he doesn't listen.

Sitting beside Roy, Theo Romano to my left, I wish my boyfriend a, "Happy Birthday."

His nippy hand fondled my bare knee, raking the dress, the jacket, the earrings. "You look so good." I blush, enshrouding my head into his neck.

He doesn't smoke nor do drugs, unlike his friends. But I deliberated where they got cocaine from—Wait, it must be from Bodie. He's the dealer here, right?

I smile at Camila opposite to me, mouthing, Are you OK? She merely glares, particularly fixated on how Roy slides an arm around me, tightly pressing me into his body. She looks away, taking a gradual sip of her vodka.

"So." Rhett Wallace flicks an intrigued hand between us. "You two fucked yet?"

"No," I replied confidently. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

"Sky daddy's good little virgin, huh?"

Someone snorts.

"There's nothing wrong with that," counters Theo Romano. He has his grey football jersey on, his player number 22 on the back.

"I'm not religious, but I'm a virgin," declares Jackson Saint. "And it's okay. Not everything is about fucking sex. This generation glamorises it so much, it's draining."

"Exactly," I agree. Why isn't Roy saying anything? "It's my body, my choice."

"Respect it or fuck off," adds Roy. Finally.

Rhett stares at his leader as if not expecting that. "It's an odd choice, mate."

"Lovely," I said brusquely. Clearly, Rhett wants a better response, worthy of gossip.

"Or maybe she knows she's bad in bed," mocks Hunar. Snickers rise. "It's okay, man."

I grab Roy's arm. He doesn't need to defend me. "You can't make girls cum, Hunar."

His brown ears redden. Some boys guffaw harder than they did to his own comment. Theo accidentally spits his drink onto his designer jeans, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and brutally shaking in laughter.

"Miranda, how long does he last again?" I ask.

"Ten seconds."

"Ten seconds?" howls a boy.

"And he's big," says Miranda. "He's big and lasts short."

"That's actually sad," says Aashvi.

Hunar's hand tightens into a fist, glaring death at me. My fingers trace a circle on Roy's bare arm. A taste of your own medicine. "You wonder why girls prefer anyone but you to fuck with."

More laughter.

Jackson smiles appreciatively. "You lost, Hunar."

"Whatever," he grumbles. 

"But who would want to fuck you?" Camila distastefully mutters to me, capturing everyone's attention, catching me off-guard.

"Sleep is boring." Roy whispers in my ear, "We can change that."

Camila taking another uncomfortable, loud, resenting sip, I blush.

"At any rate," purrs a girl, "have you seen Derek lately?"

"Oh, my God, he just got even hotter," sighs Destiny. "I swear, a few months ago he wasn't that ripped."

"I know!" exclaims a guy. "I think he's hotter than Tanner. I don't know how anyone could cheat on him."

An awkward silence falls over the rooftop. I force a blank expression, stealing a quick glance at Derek Matthews' ex. It's a shame she'll always be labeled as that—the ex of one of the wealthiest young men in the world. I heard that her house was vandalised with insults like 'slut' or 'slag', and it reeked of rotten eggs for weeks, attracting flies. Derek helped her family avoid further harassment by finalising some kind of restraining order. She shattered his heart, and he still stepped in. The media, after all, idolizes his family like they're gods.

"The hell he is," a girl retorts. "Tanner's more handsome. He's got better style, too."

Jackson and Theo exchange a look, clearly amused by the way everyone's fawning over their best friends. Theo, with his easy, hedonistic flirts and modest class-clown mannerisms, leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. Jackson, on the other hand, sits quietly, his shy demeanor making him seem out of place in the lively conversation. He fiddles with the rim of his glass, his grey irises darting around the room as if he's unsure whether to contribute or stay in the background.

"Flashy," says a guy on the football team. "I like that. But Derek's more understated and elegant, which I find just as attractive. I can't decide."

"Why choose," says his girlfriend quips, "when you can have both? The more, the merrier."

"True," agrees another guy, Sam. "Like, I got two holes for a reason. Tanner in my ass, Derek in my mouth. I bet they both pack a lot."

Theo covers his face with a hand and wheezed out a laugh, stunned. Jackson's eyes widened, horrified as if imagining the scene. Theo laughs harder at his reddening face. "Nah," he tries to speak. "Nah, I need to recor—" He rasps out another pearl of laughter, clutching his aching abdomen and then sharply slapping Jackson's thigh.

"I bet they both pack a lot," comments another guy, this time in curiosity and wonder, this time on the basketball team. "Tanner's seven inches, right?"

"No, he's more," responds Sophia, a girl in my Form. "I slept with him. He's got a curve, too, if you know what I mean. Came four times."

Aashvi gasps. "Four?"

"I cried because he's that good."

Sam looks irritated and jealous. "Lucky bitch."

"I got three holes," whispered a girl. "Maybe the third for their... older brother. Luke, right?"

"Tanner's way better," argues someone else. "Have you seen those videos of Derek? He's got a temper."

"True, but I'd let Derek yell at me any day," admits a guy. "He can kill me, and I'd still find it hot. Theo, Jackson—come on, can't you set us up?"

"He's not gay, Adam. And—" Before a girl can jump in, Theo raises his voice to stifle his laughter. "Derek's not interested in relationships. Neither is Tanner."

Jackson shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He opens his mouth as if to say something but quickly closes it, opting instead to take a small sip of his poorly-made pina colada.

"Speaking of the dipshit—" Rhett gulps down the last of his watered-down tequila. "Have you seen that recent video of Derek? Fucking hilarious."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Rhett?" snaps Theo, his humour instinctively replaced by pure hatred. "You're so insecure you're making fun of someone who's clearly better than you."

Rhett scoffs. "No one is better than me."

"Anyone is better than you," I cut in. "Derek is. Tanner is. Hell, even I am." I lean forward, locking eyes with him. "And Derek was unconscious and bleeding—that's not funny."

"Watch how you're talking to me, bi—"

"I'll correct my tone when you correct yours," I say coolly.

He clamps his mouth shut, visibly irritated.

"Thank you for finding him," Jackson says softly, his voice surprisingly above a whisper. "If it weren't for you..."

"I don't get why you even like him," mutters Rhett. "That bloody prick deserved to die when he had the chance."

"Hey." A footballer shoots Rhett a look, outstretching an arm across Theo to restrict his heated insults. "Enough. We're supposed to have fun tonight. Why do you have a grudge against him?"

Rhett has a grudge against all of them—Theo Romano, Jackson Saint, and the Matthews Brothers evinced a reputation in Edgewater Independent. It's not their looks but how... charming they can be.

Once, Theo overheard a boy bragging about how a girl sent him nudes and showed them to his friends. Enraged, Tanner found the girl with the help of Jackson and enlightened her on the issue. The girl was frightened. If her photos leaked, it would be an unfortunate downfall. Promiscuity amongst girls hypocritically attracts negative labels, but ridiculously not for men.

Another time, a girl called out Rhett's transphobia. Rhett groped her; proceeded to several subsequent rejections. Theo beat Rhett. Charges were pressed. The Matthews have a universe of lawyers—ten, twenty marched into the police station with such graceful potency.

It didn't stop the sickening boys of the basketball team. Long story short: they praised Rhett's actions. Derek had enough and confronted them. You have grandmothers, mothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, and you're glorifying sexual harassment. You're the reason why we are always the goddamn problem. You call yourself a man but continue to objectify women. Next time someone says no, respect it, or I'll have you in prison.

Derek knew none of the boys believed him. The following weekend, the UK's Prime Minister and high-ranking officials visited each of the boys at their homes, delivering stern warnings about the legal consequences of sexual harassment and misogyny. It wasn't a threat—it was a promise. From that moment on, students, especially boys like Rhett, were forced to accept that they could never outmatch men like Derek and Tanner. Not only do they have powerful connections, but they also have the ability to bring about real change.

Last year, Tanner publicly called out the government for its negligence. He demanded free school meals for poorer students in public schools, something Samuel Matthews had been advocating for years. The government refused, claiming they didn't have the funds. Eventually, Tanner and Marlene Everston convinced their Industry to legislate the goal. Tanner earned a lot of respect for that.

But I can't pinpoint what makes Derek so intimidating. His fierce glaciers freezing me in place? The permanent scowl etched onto his chiseled face, as if he's silently wishing death upon me? In class, Derek sits at the back, quiet and observant, spinning his pen or crossing his arms, always reading, always watching, and exceptionally judgemental—or maybe it's his infamous grouchiness colouring my impression. I'm quiet too, but this guy seems to exist on another level entirely. Despite his age, even forty-year-old politicians tremble at the mere mention of his name. Once, at an event attended by the British Royal Family, surrounded by the paparazzi, it was customary to bow to the royals—a sign of tradition and respect. Derek, apparently, forgot to bow and even walked past the King without a glance—

Suddenly, Camila stumbles forward. Aashvi catches her and pries the cup from her grip. "I think that's enough," she says firmly.

Camila glares and pushes herself upright. "I need air." She speed-walks out of the room.

*

"Cami!" Destiny shouts, grabbing her wrist.

"What?"

Destiny jerks her hand off, stunned. "What's wrong?"

"Is it Bodie?" I say. "Maybe you should leave—"

"It's not him. It's you."

Destiny's startle wears off, substituted with amused comprehension.

Aash places her hand on Camila's shoulder as a warning, and Camila nears me, murderously demanding, "Why did you take Roy from me?"

"What?" I look at the others for an explanation.

"She likes him," Aash explains. "For months and ..." Her eyes closed, dreading this.

Oh.

Camila sniffs. She's ... She's crying? "I have to suffer every day. Watching you two making memories. Memories that should be of me, not you. It kills me. I don't know what the fuck he sees in you. All I know is that maybe because of you, I wouldn't have gotten raped in the first place."

"What?" I echo. "Okay, back up a second. How did I get you assaulted? In fact, why would I do that?" Silence. "I never knew you liked him, Camila." Roy and I have been dating for so long. Why is this brought to my attention now? 

Beating around the bush, she snarls in a slur, "You're worthless. A pathetic, ugly, brown-rat Paki bitch."

My hands fisted. "Take that back right now—"

"I hate you so much! You know what? I'm so glad your fucking brother died. You deserve it after stealing Roy from me. What's your brother's name again? Oh, wait, it doesn't matter because no one gives a shit about him anyway!"

I step forward. For a second fear flashes in Camila's eyes. Aash steps in-between us. Destiny protectively tugs Camila closer to her. Her insult stabbed me so deeply, shocked tears pricked the back of my eyes. What is this? Why is she acting so absurdly weird?

"How can Roy go for someone like you?" she screams. The music is too loud for anyone to hear. "You're not even pretty. If you want me to get better, at least break up with him!"

"What is wrong with you?" I shouted, shoving Aash off me.

She leans closer, our noses nearly touching. "That's the least you could for a rape victim."

With that, she storms off, the girls hurrying after her.

*

The neon-illuminated corridors are unbearable and suffocating, too cramped and stifling. I head into the garden, the cool night air hits me in relief. Crows cling to thin branches, their talons glinting like jets in the shadows.

Breathe in slowly. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. The leaves rustle in a gentle rhythm. Breathe out. Focus on the breath. No thought. No dialogue. No action. Crickets chirping in a steady chorus, I repeat the mantra.

A twig snaps, jolting me out of my meditation.

I open my eyes to see Bodie Banks stepping into the moonlight.

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Q: Thoughts of Roy?