Circle of Stones by Suzanne Alyssa Andrew Page A

like. New Aaron watched Ilana like she was television. He often provoked her. He’d speak to everyone else except her, then smother her with attention. Or host parties at the apartment without inviting her, then accuse her of crashing them. New Aaron quit screen-printing, but not beer-drinking. New Aaron was more interested in Ilana’s well-stocked purse pharmacy than design, but didn’t bother asking who funded or supplied her pharmacopoeia.
    Aaron still does most of the talking. That hasn’t changed, but the details of his stories are exaggerated with each telling. It keeps Ilana and Kendall entertained. It irritates Nik, but pointing out the errors only leads to more exaggerations. And mocking. Except now there’s an unfamiliar hostility beneath Aaron’s jests. Nik hears stories turn into lies and sees Aaron’s expression shift. He watches the two girls drape themselves over the furniture as though posed for a photo shoot. Ilana in something revealing and black. Kendall in gothic Anne Rice–inspired dresses. Both wear sly illusions: the clothes that appear shiny and dramatic at night are shabby in daylight.
    One night when all the roommates were at a noisy goth industrial club, Nik saw Kendall glare at one of the cage dancers. In place of her usual disdain, Kendall’s eyes registered jealousy. Nik turned to look at the dancer. He didn’t shift his gaze for the rest of the night. His roommates left without him. The DJ stopped playing music. Jennifer exited through the Employees Only door. Nik stared at the closed door.
    â€œShe gets a lot of attention, that one,” the bartender said to Nik while shoving dirty pint glasses into the industrial dishwasher. Nik nodded. Stools were stacked on tables, a mop was splattered into a bucket of filthy water and smeared across the sticky floor. Nik waited until Jennifer re-emerged from behind the door, wearing skinny jeans in place of PVC hot pants and fishnets. She smiled at Nik.
    The next afternoon, as Nik strolled through the living room in his boxers to get Jennifer a glass of water, Old Aaron spoke for the last time. “She’s so hot,” he mouthed. Ilana was sitting next to Aaron on the sofa, but she was painting her nails and didn’t look up as the words floated over her head.
    After that, what happened at the apartment didn’t matter as much to Nik. He let it rumble, spending as much time as possible with Jennifer, while Old Aaron disappeared entirely, absorbed by nightly parties and Ilana’s games.
    Nik tries to sleep, but he can hear his roommates talking about him in the living room. Kendall says, “Oh my God,” and Aaron says, “That bastard,” and Nik knows Ilana is twisting everything into something convoluted. Nik gets up, lights a candle under Jennifer’s cobalt eye, and is suddenly thirsty. He steps out of his room into a sudden silence. A circle of stares.
    â€œHey.” He tries to act casual on his way through. In the kitchen he has to wash a glass before he can use it. He takes his time, pouring dish soap droplet by droplet. He lets the water become hot enough to turn his hands pink. Then he fills the glass, watching soap bubbles billow over the edge. Nik swings the fridge door open and grabs the water jug. It’s full. For once. On his way back to his room he holds his glass of water in front of him like an excuse. His roommates are draped across the sofa, limbs sprawling.
    â€œI can’t believe you assaulted Ilana and pushed her down just for looking at your paintings,” Kendall says. “She probably has a concussion.”
    Nik is almost at his door. He turns around, faces the stares, opens his mouth.
    â€œYou’re messed up, dude.” Aaron lights a joint. Ilana is lying down, her head in his lap. He pats her lightly like a cat, but holds the joint out of her reach. “Don’t ever touch my little girl again.”
    Nik looks at Aaron, expecting