Whisper

by K.R. Lai

People say it all started when Esther J. strutted in like the Queen of Sheba and waved her hand at us like she’d just won Miss Universe. Her hand glowed such a blinding white that she basically blasted a billion lumens right into our eye sockets and she didn’t stop until we were screaming and even then Miss Livity had to tell her. Screw our vision, right? It reminded me of that story we had to study in Religious Education. The one where Paul got blinded by a flash of heavenly light and had to be led by hand to Damascus. But no one led us out of this one. No one laid their hands on Miss Livity and healed the things Katerina ripped out like a medieval dentist. 

“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

I could see Katerina asking Miss Livity that question. See, Miss Livity is what you get if you don’t deal with your childhood. Katerina was the vengeful god we didn’t know about.

Esther turned sixteen over the weekend and she popped her power cherry with a giant, satisfying bubblegum burst. Then she stuffed that thing in her private dental mouth and chewed and chewed and spat us all out, green with envy. Her powerlessness, the one “flaw” she had that wasn’t really a flaw, gone. The one year she didn’t throw an extravagant birthday party and she still won. Her power was impressive and strong, stronger than some of the teachers even. Not like me breaking a sweat levitating a paperclip or Steve struggling to cook toast in our first Power lesson.

To be fair, my paperclip can go really high now. I recently moved on to chunky paperbacks. War and Peace can’t soar yet, but it definitely travels faster when I think of Miss Livity’s smug mug. And Steve’s really got that golden brown crispness down to a pat. He wants to make pancakes next. I’m waiting for the day he can do a perfect medium-rare steak. We’ve already agreed to open a food truck if our powers don’t get much better after high school. Why save the world when you can fly a filet mignon directly into your customer's face? It’s a flawless business model. Steak plus face equals money, or something.

Someone like Esther’s gonna get a cool, high-paid job risking her life for the government. I’ll flip steaks for a living. I swear I’m not being sarcastic; I prefer it this way. Not everyone can be a hero. Most of us will end up having normal jobs, and our lives will be mildly more convenient. And some of us will be immortalised in history. The musical genius will invent a new sound and win endless Oscars. Get her own Wikipedia page. The guy who can talk to birds will become a world-class ornithologist and invent the bird alphabet. I’ll hang out with my best friend until one of us dies of heart disease. Steve’s promised to cremate me if he can. And I’ll scatter his ashes one tablespoon at a time into our special sauce at the back of our steak truck. Steve’s always wanted to travel the world, and he will, via the small intestine.

I have no idea what Katerina would do. 

That’s a lie. We can all imagine now. We just don’t want to think about it.

If things hadn’t gone the way they did, I absolutely would’ve invited her to a life of steak flipping. She’d say no, but I think she’d visit. I’d give her a discount.

Anyway, it didn’t start because of Esther. Katerina didn’t hate Esther. Katerina didn’t hate anyone in our class because no one picked on her. In those American movies there’s always the boy who gets shoved into a locker or the girl who gets pelted with tampons. Our school wasn’t like that. Katerina just politely turned everyone down and everyone wondered why and shrugged and that was it. I think people felt sorry for her, but in the way people feel sorry for homeless people. You just walk past them and pretend they don’t exist because dealing with the complexities of an actual suffering person is messy and hard and annoying. You can’t just throw money at them. And you couldn’t throw friendship at Katerina. If there’s one thing I regret it’s not trying to coax her out a bit more.

It all started when Miss Livity decided she didn’t just dislike Katerina but loathed every atom of her being like she’d fisted her dog and turned it into a sock puppet. As if Katerina was the root cause of some karmic debt she had to pay, and the interest rates were not in her favour. Katerina was silent and gothy and I think her shyness frustrated Miss Livity because at the beginning of the year she was at least a little bit encouraging. Katerina also had this thing where she’d stare out the window and Miss Livity loved to puncture her stupor.

“We’ll continue the class when Katerina decides to join us.”

Even I was….what’s that word we learnt in German? Yeah, feeling fremdschämen at that. Vicarious embarrassment. Katerina would turn beet red and Miss Livity would sigh but knowing her she was completely schadenfreude at Katerina’s mumbled apology. 

Now imagine that scenario every week. For a year.

It took Michelangelo three years to sculpt David. 

It took Miss Livity one year to create a monster.

For the record, I still like Katerina, alright? Even after everything that happened. She never accepted my lunch invitations, but she did laugh at my bad jokes sometimes. I made them when Miss Livity was around. Come to think of it, she smiled a lot when we worked together. I thought she was cute. I was the closest thing she had to a friend, I think.

Here’s the thing: Nobody knew that Katerina turned sixteen the week before. Miss Livity didn’t even announce it, which was rude as hell. 

Anyway, back to that day: post Esther eye blast we were still seeing stars and rubbing our eyes when Katerina raised her hand.

“Miss, about my powers—”

 “We’ve already been through this.” Miss Livity said, already losing patience and not looking up from the register. “I need proof.”

“But I need to talk to the headmaster—”

“Katerina, you can’t just join Power class just because you feel left out.” Miss Livity snapped. 

They always tell us getting into Power class isn’t a big deal, but that’s like telling a girl that her first period isn’t important. It’s horseshit— teachers only say it’s not a big deal so they don’t get accused of discriminating against the 0.01% who don’t get powers. Getting into Power class is proof that you’re becoming an Adult. It’s your body’s way of telling you that this is who you’re going to be. Everyone knows before sixteen you hover in that liminal space of fantasising about what you could be and panicking that it might never happen. Like seeing your friends and enemies all packed on a bus called FUTURE POTENTIAL drive on by while you’re still searching for your fare.

I wasn’t a late bloomer, just an underwhelming one. One hands-free paperclip twitch later and I was off. I don’t know how Katerina found out about hers. Even if she was here I wouldn’t ask.

So Katerina lowered her hand and Miss Livity put down the register. But her glare—a patronising spotlight with the perfect amount of sneer that makes you want to punch her in the mouth—repositioned onto its usual target. If it was your first day, you’d mistake Miss Livity’s sigh and plaintive look for pity or exhaustion. But we knew. She slumped her shoulders as if just looking at Katerina was a huge burden.

“If you are so desperate to show your powers, you may demonstrate here in class.”

“I need to speak to the headmaster.”

“We’ve been through this before. So far, you’ve produced nothing.”

“I have to feel—”

 “Why should I allow you to waste the headmaster’s time?” Miss Livity shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “If you have a power, demonstrate it! Fly away! Turn invisible!” 

All of us knew Miss Livity wasn’t bothered about powers. She was just hoping Katerina would do something so she wouldn’t have to look at her anymore. Her eyes were wide and indignant, and Katerina had already shrivelled under her gaze like a sad flower.

You’ve seen this all before. A good teacher knows how to stop. A good person knows when they’re being cruel. Miss Livity was not a good teacher and was an even shittier person. Not that she needed to be good, being an R.E. teacher. If I got paid to convince everyone to believe in my imaginary friend, I wouldn’t try either. If God’s real, you’d think he’d explain why some of us can literally move mountains while others can only glow like a dying bulb.  

Katerina shook her head. My desk is next to hers, so I shot her the most encouraging look I could, but of course I couldn’t see my own face so I probably looked constipated or something. I reached over and patted her shoulder—she didn’t tug away, which was a little surprising—and muttered.

“You OK?”

She made a small noise, more of acknowledgement than anything else. I still remember her shaking. Her shoulder was small and warm, and I imagined her pale collarbones under her white shirt. That’s when I realised there was something really beautiful about her, and maybe being the weirdo in class holding her shoulder was worth it, even though Miss Livity was telling me to let go and started a tirade about respecting other people’s time. But all other sounds faded into the background and it was just us. For a moment we were looking at each other and my hand started to vibrate. I thought it was my nerves, but a second later I realised it was Katerina. I braced myself for the tears, readying myself to loudly tell her Miss Livity was full of shit. Wed sit in detention and I’d finally get to know her. Be more than a friend, maybe.

In the space of half a second, two things happened: 

One: I saw the future. Or a possible future. Katerina and I were holding hands and standing in a field. She was smiling. Properly smiling. We were dressed in head-to-toe black and the air was sweet. The smell of steak wafted in the air.

Two: Katerina’s eyes turned a milky white. I blinked and thought it was a trick of the light.

“Alright. That’s enough you two. Katerina, this is your last chance. Do you have something to show me or not? We don’t have time for this.” Miss Livity said sternly. We? Out of the corner of my eye, I even saw Esther frowning at her stupid logic. Miss Livity ranted on.

Katerina looked at her, then at me. Her shoulder tensed and I felt the line of her collarbone rise. Somehow it felt elegant and right and when she gently removed my hand she smiled. A real, genuine smile. I smiled back and felt my face turn red. My hand pulsed as I let go. Through the haze of vitriol, Katerina rose in slow motion. Time became sludge.

It was quite something when the most silent person in class finally makes noise. Like pissing off a sleeping dragon. Even when Katerina was deflecting Miss Livity’s bullshit she never spoke above an indoor voice. And after that day, she’ll never need to. She rose from her seat, and, if you were sitting close enough, you saw her part her lips ever so slightly.

“Stupid girl.” 

The whisper ripped through our minds like an earthquake. Everyone turned and the air buzzed as the words landed like static shocks. For a split second Miss Livity’s eyes widened, then she shook her head and eyed Katerina as if she was pond scum. I think the initial sound might’ve been worse for her since she has ultrasonic hearing, though I don’t think she turns it on all the time. Otherwise, her brain would’ve rotted with all the dumb stuff teenagers talk about. Dealing with Miss Livity meant you could never mutter anything under your breath or make any sudden moves. She was the ultimate exam invigilator.

“Alright, sit down. Not the most impressive telepathy I’ve seen, but it’s enough. You can start—”

“Shut up, girl.” 

Our minds went blank with a pulsing, chest-tightening dread that felt like we were being dangled off a cliff. Miss Livity growled, but her voice was feeble compared to the syllables vibrating our brains. We heard nothing. We felt everything.

“Father. Patrick.” Katerina said.

Whiplash. Miss Livity flinched and for a second I thought something had pushed her against the blackboard. But the muted plinkplinkplink of falling chalk told me she’d backed herself into it.

“What did you say?” She sounded incredulous. And scared.

Katerina stepped forward. I don’t think I’d ever seen her stand that straight before. She was tall, taller than I’d imagined and her dark hair swayed like a dancing cobra as she moved. Esther tried raising her hand, but one of her friends forced it down as soon as it left the desk. Katerina’s whisper continued to echo like a scream in a canyon. No, an abyss. And I wasn’t going mad earlier. Pure white, her eyes were pearlescent orbs and her lips were curled into that same smile. Miss Livity mustered up a croak and clutched her heart like it was about to explode.

It would’ve been better if it had, honestly. 

“The sound of him unzipping his fly. Commanding you to kneel.” One step. “The creak of the floorboards as you obey.” She enunciated every word, pelting each one like a stone. “You’re a stupid girl, Laura. A good girl, but a stupid one.” A thousand voices spoke at once, all and none of them Katerina. She reached back in time and squeezed the life out of Miss Livity’s childhood as if she were trying to pop an organ with her bare fist. Miss Livity sunk to the ground and hugged her knees, the ghostly imprint of her sweaty back fresh and slick on the board. My skin tingled. 

When Katerina reached the desk she leaned down like she was smelling roses. Her target recoiled.

“Stop, I believe you!” Miss Livity cried, her eyes watering.

“His satisfied grunts. You, gagging.”

I expected a scream, but Miss Livity just whimpered. Lip quivering and trapped under Katerina’s gaze, she hunched to a crawl and made way for the door. Katerina straightened up and watched Miss Livity with dispassionate eyes, her expression glassy.

“You’re afraid you’re unlovable.” An almost a tired sigh; a caricature of Miss Livity’s disappointment. “Tainted. Goods.”

Miss Livity was on her feet now, cursing as she fumbled with the handle. Her head swivelled back and forth: handle, Katerina, handle, Katerina.

You’d think we’d do something. But you need to understand something here—that room wasn’t human. Any common sense and bravery were gone as soon as Katerina opened her mouth. We weren’t even children. We were cattle in an abattoir watching the biggest, meanest pig get exsanguinated. Slowly. 

Drip by drip. 

Word by word. 

And the cut wasn’t clean. 

The handle was stuck; it was the kind you needed to wrench open with your whole body before it could groan open. Miss Livity couldn’t hack it. She was ramming into the door like a goat on meth. The handle rattled but her hands were as slick as her back. Katerina moved in.

Looking at it now, if Katerina wanted to be popular she could’ve been. Esther might be powerful, but she can’t rip reality in two and pluck it whimsy like a harp. Or rearrange it like a bouquet. Or make someone relive their childhood trauma.

But the next thing, the next thing, was really fucked.

Miss Livity flung out her hand as if casting an exorcism.

“Shut up! Stop!”

“You can still taste him.”

“No!”

Too late. Miss Livity retched. For a second I thought she was going to vomit out her organs by command, but Miss Livity hacked into her own hand, eyes bulging. When she looked at her palm we all held back a collective scream. 

It was white and gooey.

A droplet dangled from her mouth and she screamed and screamed and screamed. A few people started screaming with her when they realised what it was, what this whole thing was. Then Miss Livity was sick for real this time, and her greenpinkbrownyellow lunch stopped just before Katerina’s feet. She sank to the floor, and Katerina’s shadow loomed over her.

“And you’re afraid you like it!”

I was genuinely afraid she would kill her there and then. All I could imagine was Miss Livity’s body giving up and her eyes rolling back before shuddering to the ground. Looking at it now, I don’t know what made me do it—maybe I realised how sick it all was and that it wasn’t entirely Miss Livity or Katerina’s fault and in a stupid, gross, selfish way, I didn’t want Katerina to go there even though she already did. But she didn’t do it for no reason. She didn’t ask to be bullied. Katerina’s a good person. I still want to believe that. 

I once watched a YouTube video about how zoos have a shoot-to-kill list if there’s a mass escape. You’d think the apex predators—lions, tigers, bears—would be at the top of the list. But being strong enough to eviscerate someone or swallow a kid whole isn’t enough. It turns out that when you’re big enough to kill and eat anything you get comfy. Lions and tigers are most likely to return to their enclosures in the event of mass escape. They’re not even number one on the list. It’s chimpanzees. Because they’re smart and inquisitive and they’re ten times stronger than a person and when you tranquilise them they just get madder.     I didn’t have time to figure out the worst thing Katerina could do to me. Which means my childhood was pretty good, I guess. I just stood up, shaking.

“Katerina, stop!”

My voice didn’t travel in as much as it gently poked the air. Katerina turned around and her pearly eyes met my watery brown ones. I was already drenched in a cold sweat. She tilted her head, puzzled. Then, feeling as moronic as I always did in Power class, I raised my hand and wrenched my wrist to the left. The door banged open and Miss Livity fled, a broken, sobbing banshee down the corridor.

I closed my eyes, waiting for Katerina to speak my unknown Truth and make it Reality. But it didn’t come. Instead, I heard footsteps and the slide of a chair. I opened my eyes. She was sitting at Miss Livity’s desk. Bored. 

By the time the police came, we were all statues at our desks. Some of us were whimpering, praying she didn’t read our minds. She went quietly, handcuffs and everything. She stepped over the sick and the goo and we were left alone before the headmaster came in, breathless and stupid. He took one look and told us to go home. We fled.

The last time I saw her was on the news after she escaped some high-security young offenders institution. She was held on psychological terrorism charges, but that got dropped because she didn’t have an ideological cause. So they settled on grievous bodily harm instead.

Sometimes I wonder what she’s doing. How she’s doing. That’s a lie. I think about her every time I see her empty desk, which is to say every day. Even now no one hates her. They just don’t want to remember. She’s the boogeyman. A phantom, Bloody Mary. Best forgotten, lest she be summoned.

We all gave witness statements. Later on, the police pulled me in for a full interview because people said we were friends. I think they were disappointed with my answers. Or lack thereof.  

She left after midnight. I know this because a few days after that news report came out, I couldn’t sleep. It was muggy and I got up to open the window and found something on my windowsill. A soft black cotton square with an orange posted note on top. I closed the window and unfolded the square: a T-shirt. On the note was the drawing of a steak. And a tiny love heart. I didn’t call the police. Because I don’t know anything. Nothing helpful, anyway.

The t-shirt fits perfectly; I wonder if she conjured it up somehow. Plucked it straight from my imagination. I think I’ll wear it forever. As for the note, it’s stuck to my desktop. A tiny reminder, small and anxious. Ambivalent. Guilty. But somehow, hopeful. Always hopeful. 

K.R. Lai is a British writer based in Shanghai. When she’s not procrastinating and fighting Imposter Syndrome, she’s “working” on a novel series that’s been sitting in her brain for 8 years and she promises she will get on it this year. Her work has been featured in the Centifictionist, Everyday Fiction, and Allium, A Journal of Poetry & Prose.