Chapter 1: Backstabbers
~Avalor~
“You motherfucker.”
Considering the current situation, I felt surprisingly calm.
When I opened my mouth, I had expected my words to trickle out along with a stream of fresh tears. Maybe even a shout, a loud anguished cry that alluded to the betrayal and hurt that I was feeling.
Instead, my words were cool, and clinical, like I was merely stating a fact. In a way, that is entirely true. Harper was and is indeed a motherfucker. Or more accurately, a best friend fucker.
The scene before me is a simple one. An age-old tale of love turned sour.
The lilting music from down the hall is drowned out by the thumping of my heart as I stare into the dark of the storage closet.
Inside there are a few dusty boxes, sagging at the corners from years of wear and tear. Discarded canvases and easels line the back wall.
Nestled amongst the weathered materials are two illuminated bodies, blinking in the sudden light, half-dressed and joined at the groin.
Serira, my best friend, is perched atop a discarded desk. Her evening dress is pooled around her waist and a golden chain twinkles between her exposed breasts.
“Come on, Ave.” She curls her honey-colored legs around the second figure who keeps his head tilted away from me. “You should have seen this coming.”
Serira traces a manicured finger up the spine of the man who is still docked inside of her. I don’t need to wait for him to look at me to know that he has no remorse for what he’s done. Harper, my boyfriend, turns to me like a deer caught in headlines. He’s only sorry that he got caught.
A million responses run through my mind but I say nothing. Instead, I turn mechanically on my heel and march back down the hall towards the sound of clinking glasses and conversational chatter. The graduation party is still going strong.
“Avalor!”
I look up in a haze and spot Shauna, waving me over from where she stands alongside some of our former lecturers. Shauna is nice, we got along well enough during our time at art school.
But I turn my eyes away from her and keep walking.
Our lecturers were always pretty fond of Shauna - one of them in particular. It would seem now that she’s graduated, Jerome is free to do his gawking publicly.
My throat burns and my palms have begun to sweat by the time I make it to the bathroom. I swallow the ache in my throat and scramble inside the first empty stall, locking the door behind me and crouching to the floor.
My own delicate evening dress lies crumpled around me as I cower in the corner, wrapping my arms tightly around myself and fighting the tears that threaten to ruin my mascara.
Running through the events of what I just witnessed is a bad idea, but I do it anyway. The image of Harper and Serira, flushed and intertwined is burned into my retina.
Why now? Why her? At our graduation party of all places. How could he? No, how dare he? Now that I’m alone, the emotions pour forth, crashing over my bowed head in waves. Heaving in stuttering breaths I hunch over myself, tears flowing freely now.
Harper and I had been together since I had started my degree. I can still remember the exact moment when he found me amidst the swarm of new students.
Clean-shaven and dazzling, he laid his arm over my shoulder and guided me through the crowd. His hair was shorter back then.
Amber eyes locked with mine and I felt myself swoon even though I had sworn myself to celibacy during the duration of my studies. My claim to chastity didn’t last very long in the presence of a guy like Harper.
I heave in another rattling breath and lean my head back against the stall door. That’s all over now. As is my friendship with Serira. I had always known my best friend to be something of a backstabber. I had just never expected her to wield her knife at me.
The sound of footsteps clicking into the bathroom has me pausing my erratic breaths, listening earnestly for whoever it is to move along. I hear water running. Someone complaining about a missing lipstick. Other graduates.
I need to get out of here. I need to confront Harper.
The longer I crouch in my meridian garment the more sadness gives way to anger. My stomach turns and my quivering hands ball into fists so tight that my nails leave red crescents in my skin.
If he wanted to end things he could have just said so. Hell, if he wanted to fuck my best friend he could have at least had the decency to dump me first.
A ding from somewhere inside my purse startles me out of my morbid thoughts. I’m inclined to ignore it but two more dings follow from the women outside my stall. A broadcast message.
Maybe Harper wanted to give a public apology. I grimace dryly at that thought. Hesitantly, I coax my phone out of my purse. My tears blur the bright screen and the text swims in my vision.
“Holy shit,” said a low voice from outside my stall. The woman with the missing lipstick reads the news moments before I do.
The words on the screen don’t quite register at first. Staring at my phone, it takes a few frantic read-throughs for the news to finally click. That’s my father’s name plastered across the top of the article. That’s my father’s business. The word “bankrupt” glares at me in bold black text.
Moments later, I get a message from my father himself. I suppose he wanted to be the first to break the news. Too little too late, unfortunately. And considering the hushed conversation outside, it sounds like everyone in the vicinity is already aware.
I don’t really know what to do next. I know for sure that the moment I step out of the bathroom there will be questions. My father and his business are one of the university’s biggest sponsors.
Everyone knows his name. And now, everyone knows his fate too. I can’t think of one possible reason as to why we would go bankrupt. Words like “corruption” and “fraud” litter the short news article.
The comment section has already exploded with outrage and accusations. I wouldn’t believe a word of it if it wasn’t for my father’s own message to me - ‘Avalor, something’s happened. We need to talk.’
And talk we will. But not now. Not until I can clear my head, confront Harper, and face the crowd that is most definitely waiting for me outside. I can’t hide in the bathroom forever.
With a deep breath and a shoulder roll, the tears halt. I take a moment to examine my makeup in the dark mirror of my phone screen and open the door.
The two girls outside immediately fall silent. I ignore them and their quizzical glances, stepping past them and out of the bathroom. Their chattering gossip continues as I leave.
The moment I reenter the main hall, conversation peters out. All eyes swivel in my direction. I do my best to maintain my composure. With a small exhale, I feel my mask slip back into place.
This is the face I wear when I’m unsure of myself. It’s a face so perfectly crafted to give the air of composure. I wear it so often that sometimes I forget that it’s there at all.
Waltzing into the room like nothing has happened, I make my way toward Shauna who is gawking at me like I’m a zoo animal that escaped its enclosure.
Her head snaps from me to her phone and back again. Before I’ve even reached her she’s already talking, stammering out half sentences and rushed condolences.
“Avalor, I -”
Her face shifts from one of pity to regret to disregard as she struggles to gauge my own emotions. The mask is working.
“I know.” Reaching across her for a champagne glass, I gulp the whole thing down in seconds. The bubbly liquid tingles in my throat and I reach for another. “I heard the news.”
I give her my best fake smile which falters slightly when I notice Harper and Serira, now fully clothed and standing together. Harper looks away when our gaze meets but Serira eyes me with a crude smirk on her lips.
I put a hand on Shauna’s shoulder as I stepped past her. “Thanks for the concern, but don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure this has all been a misunderstanding.”
My second glass of champagne is already reduced to mere drops by the time I reach my boyfriend. Harper looks like he wants to bolt but Serira has her claws around his arm, holding him in place. My mask falters for a moment. I finish my champagne.
“Harper.”
He turns his head toward me but his eyes dart around the room, searching for something, anything to fixate on other than my own level stare. He had always been a playboy.
Ironically, that was one of the reasons I liked him. I respected his ambition. I thought we could build something together one day. I forgot to factor in his weakness for pretty bimbos.
Serira doesn’t let me continue and her nails dig deeper into Harper’s arm.
“He doesn’t associate with criminals.” Her sneer is a cruel one and I wonder how I had ended up befriending such a snake. “We all read the article, Ave. Your family is done.”
Her voice is loud enough for everyone to hear although they pretend not to. I can feel eyes on me, curious faces stealing glances from behind bubbles of champagne.
“My family is none of your concern. That article was clearly a mistake.” One deep breath and a level head. “That doesn’t change the fact that you fucked my boyfriend.”
Harper opens his mouth but Serira beats him to it. “But it’s not a mistake. Everything in that article was true, Harper has known it for a while now thanks to my family’s connections.”
My evil ex-friend steps closer to me and I resist the not-so-feminine urge to yank out her extensions and throttle her with them.
“Your family is bankrupt. Your father is going to prison. And you,” a delicate finger poked at my chest, “well, you’re nothing now Avalor.”
I am heading for the exit before she finishes her string of insults. People are staring openly now and murmuring voices follow me out of the door as I leave.
