The Wrong Treatment Pt. 05

To reverse the effects of the binding love potion, the affected parties must remain physically separated from one another until the potion naturally wears off. Close proximity acts as a catalyst, reenergizing the potion's essence and hindering the natural process of dissolution. This creates a high-stakes scenario, as with a magnet, once two are in the same field, outside force is required to break them apart.

I had jotted down my theory several different ways, but this felt the most scientifically sound. I was hoping it would help motivate me on how to break the truth to Misty.

"Hey, Misty. You know why you've been fixated on fucking your brother? Yeah... That's my bad. Love dousing gone wrong. What can ya do?"

Clearly, I needed to refine the message further. On a positive note, tutoring was going well. Not only was she completing her assignments, but I was getting such a good grasp on the material, I felt that even with winter finals approaching I wasn't even going to have to study. Of course, it helped that history, one of the hardest subjects, had suddenly become a breeze. Everyone in the class was experiencing a bump in the GPA and the workload had lightened considerably.

Whatever magic Andre was working on Mrs. Watson had done a number on the poor teacher's once-stern demeanor. She discarded her normal curriculum in favor of an improvised and more relaxed approach. During her lectures, she frequently got sidetracked, veering off into stories from her college and high school days. As a result, her rapport with the students was at an all-time high. It was difficult not to prefer this version of her, especially when it meant no more lunch detentions. I was concerned she would let her guard down too much, however. She had recently missed a few classes, conveniently calling in sick on the same days that Andre was truant.

After observing Brent and Mrs. Young for months, I came to a reassuring realization that despite their intense infatuation with each other, their love had reached a plateau, alleviating my concerns that Brent would inadvertently express his feelings for his mother to his friends, which would destroy any leverage I had over him. Hopefully, Andre and Mrs. Watson being in a similar situation would be wise enough to keep their relationship discreet.

That afternoon, the Armstrong house was unlocked, but the driveway was empty, and no one answered when I knocked. Since I'd been tutoring Misty for the better part of the last month, I felt at ease inviting myself in and making my way upstairs to her room. Another benefit of not looking like a muscled-up fuckboi was that Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong didn't seem to have an issue with me hanging around their daughter without supervision.

As I reached the top of the staircase, I gently tapped on the doorframe to get Misty's attention, only to find her engrossed in her own world. She sat on the floor of her room, legs crossed in pretzel style, absorbed in her phone and music. I could overhear the upbeat sounds of a sugary pop song bleeding from the expensive earbuds. My heart sank. Wednesdays were typically her good days since it meant she hadn't visited the hospital. Besides being hella stupider the days she saw Richie, there were many other obvious tells. Her taste in style became much more girly and mainstream. Her ability to hold a conversation dwindled, and her attire mirrored her current appearance - tight leggings that showed off her bum, a fitted athletic top, and juvenile bright-color ties in her hair.

Fuck, this was not how I wanted to have this conversation.

"Jeeze, Dude!" Misty freaked out as she noticed me hovering in her room. "Stalk much?"

"Sorry, Misty. No one answered the door when I knocked," I replied.

"Ugh, can't I get, like, ten minutes to myself? I just got back from-" She cut herself off, and grimaced.

"I thought you weren't seeing your brother till tomorrow," I submitted, trying to understand what had changed.

"You sound just like her," Misty retorted bitterly. "'Misty, you don't need to see him every day.' 'Misty, the docs will keep us in the loop.' 'Misty, it's time to go back to school' 'You're acting all spoiled.' He's my fucking brother! Why can't anyone see that? I'm all he's got!"

Well, that's a lot to unpack, I thought. She picked at her nails like an addict in withdrawal. Time to switch to Plan B. I knelt down so we were eye level.

"No one knows what you're going through, but it sounds like a rough day," I said.

She shook her head adamantly, nose flaring. "No. It's not the day. It's everything. I can't... I just can't."

I tried to find the right words. "Look, I get not wanting to go back to school. I can't wait to graduate either."

But Misty wasn't listening. She continued to vent. "You know that basic bitch, Jada? She had the freaking audacity to tell people that Richie and her were a thing. Like, she hooked up with him one night, ages ago. He didn't even like her. Plus everyone knows she's with Braxton now. But she still showed up at the hospital acting like she's his girl, for what? Sympathy. And then she got all pissed when I told her to fucking leave and shove her snickerdoodles up her ass," Misty frothed.

"Do you have any clue how much it hurts, seeing this amazing guy stuck on a ventilator?" Her gaze fell to the floor, lost in thoughts.

I wanted to gag. Richie, an amazing guy? Wow. But I persevered.

"I get it. You miss him. The whole school does, but you're his sister, and you-"

"I want to suck his cock." Misty said matter-of-factly.

"Uhh," I stumbled over my words, unsure how to respond.

"But the nurses hover. I think one of them knows... Gretchen. She always gives me a weird look," Misty continued, her gaze fixed on the floor. She bit her lip and her head sort of lolled as she hummed to herself for a few seconds before looking back up at me.

"There's something wrong with me I think," she giggled nervously.

"Misty, there's something I need to tell you." I took a deep breath. "There's this thing going on in our school. A drug that got into the water system. Not many people know about it, but it's pretty serious. It makes people act... funny. Like a psychedelic, but worse cause it doesn't wear off and it fools people into believing they're in love. It's affected a few people, including you.

If Misty heard me, she didn't show it. Her gaze remained vacant, and she blinked slowly, like a disoriented frog. "Misty, are you listening?" I reached out and shook her arm.

"Hmm?" She seemed to rouse out of her stupor.

"I said there's this drug going around school that I think you may have ingested. That's why you, why you have feelings for Richie."

Misty flashed a wide, incredulous smile. "You think I'm high right now?"

"No. I mean, sort of," I stammered, "but not in the way you're thinking. A few days before Richie's accident, did he start acting any differently around you?"

Misty shrugged, her expression distant. "I guess."

"And was that around the time you started wanting to..." I forced myself to say it. "...Fuck him?"

"Maybe," she said, her voice softening. I could tell just mentioning Richie caused her mind to drift.

"Misty, you cannot go back to the hospital. The more often you go the worse the side effects will get."

She stopped talking altogether. I felt my cheeks flush, realizing how ridiculous I sounded. I was coming across crazier than her. How was I supposed to get her to understand?

"Wait a second." I grabbed my backpack and rummaged through the side pocket until I found the vial.

"This!" I exclaimed, extracting the little receptacle with the heart-shaped symbol and holding it out for her.

Misty hesitantly took it from my hand. "Where'd you get it?" she asked, holding up the glass toward the ceiling light.

"Uhh, I found it. At school, next to the lockers..." I trailed off.

Perhaps it was a good thing to be breaking the news while she wasn't fully alert so I didn't have to defend my own bullshit. I was a terrible liar.

She continued turning the glass in her hand, watching the liquid inside.

"Don't!" I snagged the glass tube from her hand before she could snap off the cap.

"A few drops of this will fuck up your life," I warned, stowing the tube and zipping up the side pocket again.

"The only way for the effects to wear off is to stay away from the person you're bonded with. It's why you have to stop seeing Richie. And as much as it sucks, you need to go back to school so you're not left alone for too long."

"Have you used it? How do you even know it works?" Her inquisitive hazel eyes looked up at me, more focused than I'd seen them all day.

I debated whether to lie again, but figured it was simpler to come clean.

"Well, yeah. I used it on Brent Young. He used to bully me a lot. I thought I would get even, but I didn't realize how significantly it would change his life."

"What do you mean?" she began to ask.

"He fucks his mom now. It was a mistake," I admitted, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

"Is that why he broke up with Jordan?" Misty's voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern.

I nodded. "You can't end up like him. I know it probably doesn't feel like you have a choice. But, the more things get back to normal, the less you see Richie, the easier it will be, and the better you'll feel."

"Okey dokey."

"I'm serious."

"I understand the assignment," she said, saluting me playfully. Her fizzy personality wouldn't be wearing off any time soon. Maybe she actually is high, I realized looking back at the poster on her door.

****************************************************************************

"Welcome back, Ms. Armstrong," Mr. Phelps paused in front of Misty's desk. His lips pursed in mild displeasure as he noticed her phone lying face up on her binder. The last thing she needed was to get scolded on the first day back. To his credit, the psychology teacher decided to disregard the offense. I kept an eye on Misty all day. Not only to see if she adjusted well but also out of fear. I barely got any sleep after the dreaded thought of the bubbly, pigtailed blabbermouth version of her coming to school and telling everyone I was administering love potions.

Thankfully, she seemed composed. She sat with her shoulders back, the top few inches of her black-green skirt sweeping midway up her thighs under the desk. Her tee shirt was still snug enough to show off her gorgeous breasts, but not so scandalous as to test the school dress code. Her dark hair was straightened and held back with a red headband that fit behind her ears. She looked pretty, and not as slutty, though her lips were the same shade as Mrs. Young's. And most importantly, her eyes were open, not hooded, which would have been another tell-tale sign she'd recently seen her brother. She caught me gawking at her and stuck out her tongue.

"Misty! Oh my god! How are you?" Jada enthusiastically sidled up to her friend.

Misty's expression tightened for a brief moment before she mustered a friendly smile. "Hey, Jada. I'm okay, thanks."

Jada acted oblivious to the underlying tension her presence created. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost a brother. It's so tragic. I'd probably have taken the year off and been a complete trainwreck. It's so good to see you moving on."

Misty clenched her fists under her desk. I could tell she was seething. "Yeah, it's been hard, but I'm trying to stay strong."

Jada pushed out her bottom lip melodramatically. "Well if you ever wanna talk..." she said, taking a step back toward her own desk. "Oh, and by the way, don't forget Friday is the first game of the playoffs. Braxton's gonna wear Richie's number in his honor since he's now lead receiver on the team."

"Wouldn't miss it." Misty's smile slid off her face and she glowered at Jada as she walked away.

****************************************************************************

Finding a nice, empty spot in the hallway, I settled down and pulled out my lunch, a container of leftover yakimeshi from last night's dinner. I scarfed down the meal and was about to dispose of the trash when someone kicked my foot.

"Hey," a familiar voice rang out.

Looking up, I saw Misty standing in front of me. "Hi." I hurriedly got to my feet and grabbed my backpack. Though we'd seen a lot of each other outside of school, I felt nervous talking to her in public.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked.

"Ehh. High school is high school," she replied, shuffling her feet. "Do you want to hang out later?"

"For the math test on Friday?" I assumed. Mr. Fletcher said the exam would count for half our final.

"No, I think I'm caught up on studying for a while. Maybe we can grab something to eat."

"Oh..." It suddenly dawned on me that she actually meant hang out, like friends. Like she now thought of me as her friend. Not just some tutor. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air before my brain reminded me I had to respond. "Yeah, absolutely!" I blurted out a bit too enthusiastically.

"Mhm," she nodded, choosing to ignore my awkwardness. "Great, meet you after class in the quad."

I noticed a few curious glances from students nearby, I couldn't help but wonder if this interaction was elevating my popularity or simply dragging Misty's lower. Before I could overthink it, Misty took a step closer and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. My brain froze again, as the feeling of her body pressing against mine, her tits squeezing into my chest, and the sweet smell of her hair flooded my mind.

I heard the bell ring and watched as she waved goodbye.

****************************************************************************

I waited anxiously in the quad for what felt like an eternity, watching as students dispersed and went home. Despite Misty's car not having moved, there was no sign of her. Doubt and insecurity crept into my mind. Had she been held back by a teacher? Had she forgotten about our plans? Did she regret asking to hang out? As these thoughts plagued me, I decided to venture over to walk the outdoor campus, starting with the football field.

There. I spotted her in the bleachers, a few rows up from where a couple freshmen were throwing sunflower seeds at each other.

I slowly ascended the steps, not wanting to come across as needy. "Hey, I thought you said we'd meet in the quad."

"Uh-huh," She was staring at the field. The last time she was here was when Richie was getting carted off.

"Are you sure you should be..." I began, concerned for her mental health.

"Shut up," she cut me off abruptly. Her attention was not on the football team but the cheer squad.

I blinked, a little put off by her sudden callousness. The pom-poms flashed as the line of girls, and Tim, practiced their routine. I figured I'd try and lighten her mood with a joke.

"I think you missed tryouts by a couple months."

"Funny," she replied curtly, without smiling.

Her focus was solely fixed on one particular girl among the cheerleaders—Jada. The intensity in Misty's gaze hinted at unresolved feelings of resentment toward the preppy blonde.

A whistle blew, and the cheerleaders took their break.

I tried to draw her attention away from her rival. "Hey, take it from me. Just ignore her, it's not worth..."

Misty cracked a smile, but not the charismatic, mesmerizing one that I was accustomed to. This was a depraved, giddy grin that sent a shiver down my spine. I followed her gaze toward Jada, who stood with the other girls near the folding tables. Jordan, Jada, Kaley... They were all gossiping and snickering amongst themselves, hydrating after a long workout. Jada held a pink aluminum bottle to her lips.

"Oh shit," I muttered under my breath. I grabbed my backpack and shoved my hand in the side zipper, to confirm what I already suspected.

"What did you do!?" I shouted. The freshmen and a few band geeks sitting by the side aisles looked over at us.

"Misty, Misty!" I grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at me. "Where is it?" Misty's lips were twitching, the grin had faded but a manic delight still gleamed in her eyes.

"Huh?" she feigned ignorance.

"Misty, this isn't funny. I told you that stuff is dangerous. Someone could get really hurt."

The brunette simply shrugged and went back to looking at Jada, leaving me in a state of shock.

"How did you even..." I trailed off, mind racing back to our lunch conversation, the hug. "You never wanted to hang out," I realized, my voice filled with a mix of confusion and indignation.

"Shut up," she snapped again, this time angrier.

"Fuck you." I glared at her.

"Fuck me? Seriously?" Her voice rose several octaves, her words dripping with venom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You think I ever bought into your chivalrous nice-guy act? You don't even know me. You're just like any other fucking guy. You saw an opportunity to get close to me and you... you..." She struggled to find the words, her frustration palpable.

I tried to stay calm, but a sickening feeling churned in my gut. "This isn't some prank. That drug is toxic. I don't care if Jada is the biggest cunt in the world, she doesn't deserve what you've just set in motion. Jesus Christ Misty, what the actual fuck?"

"Don't you dare sit there and lecture me with your sanctimonious hero complex. I know you're the one who made me like this, who spiked Richie's drink. You practically admitted it the second you said you used the stuff on Brent because he bullied you. There's no drug sneaking around the school," her voice was sharp and accusatory, "just a sad loner who felt like getting even. Well, I guess I felt like getting even too. You have no right to judge me."

With a sudden motion, she pulled the vial from her jacket pocket and threw it at me. I fumbled to catch it, my hand closing around the glass tightly.

"If my brother were awake and knew what you'd done, you'd be the one in the hospital right now." She pushed off from the bleachers, got up, and stormed away, leaving me dumbfounded.

"Wait! Please, Misty," I called after her much too late. She didn't look back. The freshmen sniggered at my plea, but I didn't care. I was numb. The thought of Misty going back to the hospital and becoming that vacant, shallow shell of a girl upset me. She wasn't just walking away from her problems, she was giving up.

I looked down. Practice was over for the cheerleaders. The girls were collecting their bags from the track. Jada took another swig from her bottle, then ran up and grabbed Jordan's hand.

This was bad.

****************************************************************************

I tried calling and texting Misty but that proved to be a fruitless endeavor. She didn't respond, and her absence at school the next day only heightened my concern. The thought of going to her house crossed my mind, but I didn't want to witness her all spaced out and dopey.

As for Jada, it was funny. She was already so used to pushing the boundaries of the school dress code and exuding a flirty personality with every one of her friends, it was hard to tell anything had changed in her. I was not naive enough to think the potion had spared her, but it was going to take careful observation in order to tell if she was acting any different.

It helped that, unlike with Brent, Ricky, and Andre, I was pretty sure I knew who the potion had linked Jada with. Of the two cheerleaders Jada was talking to when she ingested the stuff, Jordan was her best friend, Jordan was the one she held hands with, and Jordan was the one she passed notes to all throughout Psych that morning.

I fished a folded notebook paper out of the trash. I had seen Jada toss it in the bin when the bell rang, and recognized her handwriting in blue. Jordan's responses were in green.

Jada: "Wanna go to the mall later? I found this dress that's perfect for you, and that totally matches the Winter Formal vibe."