Slackjaw

Despite its immense bite force, the Nile crocodile has very weak jaw muscles. Which makes it easy to subdue, if I had to. If it ever came down to it. Crocodile wranglers just have to sit on the croc's mouth, or duct tape its upper and lower jaws together. The crocodile would effectively become useless.

These are the thoughts that come to mind during recess, when pristine, shiny Bia Maesterson stalks over to her next prey.

It is a waiting game as much as it is a performance to witness Bia in action. Often I feel much like those photographers on Nat Geo, hidden in small corners, behind thin shrubbery to observe what will inevitably come next. Which is to say, the predator will always strike.

And, like clockwork, Bia always does.

When you study something for too long, things start to become instinctual. Maternal, somewhat, in the way you begin to understand and predict certain moods and behaviours. Just like how I know when Bia selects her next victim because of how her eyes narrow and pupils expand. The same way, she goes all quiet, even sometimes in the middle of conversation, when interest piques her, often driven by a bout of boredom. She'll tilt her head, catching the wind, perhaps a whisper or murmur across the pavement to where a ninth-grader swims like bait, lonely and unsure. Those are the easy prey, the ones who don't have a group to protect them. Bia knows that they won't run. They won't even fight.

Today, it is Michelle's turn.

I knew this the moment I walked into school this morning. Michelle was a new transfer student, with black frizzy hair and an aura stormy with tentativeness. I could almost taste her shyness, somewhere between copper and stale mint, leaving a strange electric burn in the back of my throat as she passed by. She wanted to be more than she was but didn't know how. The safer bet was to keep her head down. And, if I could sense that reluctant introversion, Bia was bathing in it. She already had that cold glint in her eye when Michelle happened to skirt around her.

"New girl," Bia jeered, chewing loudly on her trademark 5 Wintermint gum. She eyed the little fish from the top of her frizzy black hair, to the brand-new Nikes on her feet.

I'll admit, there was something majestic about Bia, something ethereal in the glow of her skin that made everyone feel safe. She was beautiful but not in the way you'd think; there was something more powerful about the meticulous way she pieced herself together. Each strand of hair was placed deliberately. Every expression and motion was measured, even the slightest eyebrow twitch.

When she looked at you, time would stop indefinitely, as if it were in her hands.

It did especially for Michelle, who had prayed for a miracle like this, to be seen and shaded from the blistering heat of scrutiny. She paused in her tracks and looked up, wonderstruck. It didn't help matters how the loveliness and innocence marked her youthful face. She looked so utterly hopeful being called on. I could feel her desperation, this urgent, irresistible pull towards Bia's glittering smile. Bia lavished in it. She gifted her rudimentary kindness in fragments, like an owner to its overfed pet. Michelle may as well have swam directly between her waiting teeth.

"Um... hello," Michelle matched the hungry eyes with her own.

The whole, entire school startled. No one ever responded to Bia, let alone matched their eyes to hers. The last time someone did was two years ago, and he nearly died. This was a blatant challenge.

It was the first time I'd ever seen Bia quiet. The girls around her closed in on the young girl, chuckling uncertainly. They glanced at their leader, waiting for a cue. Claire, with long, pin-straight locks, second in command, nearly yanked out one of her precious golden strands. Mandy, the third in their trio, bit her lip till it bled.

The school bell blared, breaking the silence, but nobody dared to move.

I could see two distinct options for Bia. To chomp down now would mean to acknowledge Michelle's power move, which was not a good look. But, it'd get rid of the problem immediately. Not that Bia would be satiated; she liked the chase, the buildup of trust before her jaws bore down. The second option would be to let this go. To pretend everything is normal. To build up to the chase.

If I know anything, it is that crocodiles are a patient species. Bia released her breath, melting back into her initial smile, and, in effect, the hallway, too, relaxed.

"Pretty," Bia reached down and grabbed a lock of Michelle's long, dark curls. She pulled the strand a little too hard before releasing it.

Maybe it was that Michelle didn't know what she was in for that frightened me. She didn't sense the danger of roaming so close to the lockers. She didn't know that, later, standing alone at recess, staring at her shadow, would mean inevitable death.

She looked up at Bia, with the sincere, beaming smile of someone whose life had changed, and replied, "Thank you."

Bia and her bask situate themselves in the garden. It is a calculated spot. The bushes and sunflowers mostly conceal the three of them while still allowing for a clear view of the rest of the school body.

Lunch is a tricky time. I learned that the best way to get by is to move around from spot to spot. Hide behind odd groups; interact with someone just to blend in. Everyone knew not to steer close to the flowers. Or to linger in one spot alone.

Everyone but Michelle, that is.

I've witnessed a lot of deaths during my time here, but for some reason I had hope for Michelle. Something about the muted fire in her eyes made me think that she had a chance. It felt fated that she'd be the one to overthrow the crocs, to have them bite air before they could draw blood. Something about her felt deliciously, secretly violent.

The time came. Bia matched eyes from across the pavement with little Michelle who awkwardly stood on her own.

The girls belly crawled out from the shrubbery and into the open. I watched from my perch by the fences, caught in morbid fascination as the girls cornered young Michelle. She looked startled, but unafraid. The performance had begun.

"Do you like gum?" Bia asked kindly.

Michelle nodded, wide-eyed.

"Oh, yes, I do!"

"What flavour?"

"Well, strawberry, of course!" She exclaimed, "Watermelon's good, too. I really love fruity–"

"What about mint?" Bia inquired, looking a little bit disappointed.

Michelle shrugged, a little too honestly for her own good, "It's fine, I guess, but I like strawberry better."

"Try it," Bia offered Michelle a small, blue-wrapped stick.

Michelle looked reluctantly at the offering and then shook her head.

"No, thank you."

Bia's anger was palpable. She gave the young girl a hard smile and then shoved the gum into her face, "Take it."

Michelle looked around for help. The field was mostly deserted now that the show had begun. Everyone knew when to disappear.

Except for me. I couldn't tell you what it was. Perhaps it was a naive desire for justice, to vicariously combat my own resentments through her. Maybe it is that I knew there would be bloodshed. I stayed.

Michelle conceded almost immediately.

"It's good," Michelle nodded after a second of chewing, "minty."

"Wintermint, extra minty," Bia replied devilishly. She pulled out another stick, "Have another."

Michelle looked as though she wanted to argue but thought better of it. She took the stick of gum and held it in her hand. For a moment, Bia waited. When Michelle made no move to unwrap the second stick, she did it for her and then jammed it in the young girl's mouth.

"Chew."

Michelle was perturbed but she obeyed. My hands twitched. I held myself in place. There was nothing I could do. To intervene now would be to defy nature, and nature had chosen Michelle. Still, a deep, visceral rage shook through my body. Bia pulled out another stick, unwrapped it, and shoved it into Michelle's mouth again. This time Michelle protested, trying to push her away, but Claire and Mandy grabbed her arms to hold her in place. Bia pulled out yet another stick of gum.

When the whole box was empty and Michelle's mouth was bulging, Bia beamed at her.

"Chew," she demanded when Michelle stopped.

Michelle struggled to chew, fighting against the large mass as it softened and stuck to her teeth. There was a pleasurable, sadistic satisfaction shining in Bia's gaze. She watched the young girl try to speak. The massive wad of chewing gum tumbled over her tongue and landed near the back of her throat. She gagged, almost spitting out the ball, but Bia covered the poor girl's lips with a hand.

"Chew."

Michelle's face was entirely red. It was clearly difficult for her to breathe. The sticky mass was just too big; her lips struggled to close over it; her jaws struggled to move. But she had no choice. She could either chew or choke.

Bia laughed.

The death was slow and arduous, but around the five-minute mark, Michelle started to cry. I could hear the clicking of her jaw by then. It started softly, kind of like the minute hand of a clock, and then it got louder and louder, and just as we reached ten minutes, I heard the all too familiar pop. Michelle let out a garbled scream.

At this point, Michelle couldn't close her jaw if she tried. It stood out, slightly unhinged from the rest of her face, drooping down. The ball of gum rolled slowly out and landed on the pavement with a splat.

I watched the saliva-riddled goo expand and dry on the asphalt. Bia and her posse slithered away, and Michelle was left staring slack-jawed at the open sky.

In all the deaths I'd witnessed, Michelle's refused to leave me. As I walked down the halls, I could hear that pop of tendon and bone in the patter of my shoes. Bia's giddy laugh echoed in every corner. At night, when I slept, all I would see was that blue wad of gum rolling down her stained tongue, pleading for help. I knew I wanted Bia to die.

It was on a Wednesday, two weeks after the Michelle incident (which is what the staff were calling it)– the first time since I'd seen Michelle, mute now because of her swollen, wired jaws – that I decided to take action.

I declared my intentions to my closest friend, Gerry, an eleventh grader who long since learned that the best way to survive was to turn invisible. He was one of Bia's first victims; had his mouth wired shut two years ago after him and Bia got into a huge argument. He never once told me what happened, exactly, but I knew the lasting effects of his trauma. It was why he flinched when Bia walked past us. It was why he never lingered in the halls alone.

"I'm going to defeat Bia at her own game," I told him as we walked towards our lockers.

He didn't say anything, but I could feel his body tense.

"What?" I blocked him, mid-step. He jumped back, arms rising instinctively to shield himself. His books toppled onto the floors. He scrambled immediately to pick them up. I bent down to help.

"I can do it," I proclaimed.

When he still didn't respond or react, I gave him a gentle shove.

"Hey, say something," I persisted.

"What do you want me to say?" He hissed.

I took a step back. He was bristling with fear.

"Help me do it."

Gerry shook his head. He looked down. He knitted his eyebrows together,and pulled uncomfortably at the hem of his shirt.

"Gerry–"

"Why now? Why all of a sudden now do you want to do something?" He demanded. His eyes flashed, "You could've done something when it was Fred's turn, or Jenna's, or anyone of the hundreds before now. Why did Michelle change your mind?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Shrugged.

"I don't know... How long do you think till she gets bored again? Michelle's new, Ger, and she didn't even get a day before Bia got to her. I mean, how long till I'm next? I don't want to wait for my turn. I want to be prepared."

"She's literally graduating this summer, and you know she wants out. Which means she won't attack for the rest of the semester."

"You can't guarantee that. Look at Michelle. She needs to be stopped, Ger," I countered, "This can't happen again. Enough is enough."

Gerry looked at me as if he wanted to argue, as if he could sense some strange darkness mutating inside of me, but then thought otherwise. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"What do you want me to do?"

According to Gerry, Bia carried a megapack.

"That's thirty-five sticks," he warned me, "and she doesn't wait for the gum to soften before shoving in another, so you gotta be prepared. Those edges can be real sharp."

We started off small, with one stick of gum. I chewed for the entire day, far past when the flavour disappeared. By then, my jaw ached from chewing, but Gerry handed me another.

"Don't stop. Not until it's bedtime. And then in the morning, two sticks," he handed me the pack.

I carried it home and followed the rules. The next day I chewed two sticks all day long, and the day after, three. By the end of the week, I could chew seven sticks without cramping or feeling sick.

After school, Gerry and I would find a safe spot in the park where we'd re-enact the standoff. He'd unwrap and shove a wad of gum and I would chew until my mouth ached. We'd do it all over again the next day.

It was a messy journey. I burst into tears when we reached fifteen sticks; my mouth just couldn't hold so much gum for so long.

"It's literally been five minutes!" Gerry yelled at me as I gagged and spat the gooey wad out.

I wiped my tears with shaking hands.

"It's too much, Ger. It's too much," I struggled to compose myself. He gave me no grace.

"Again," he handed me fifteen sticks at once.

I looked up at him desperately.

"Ger," my lips trembled, "I can't."

"Do it or die," he threatened. He unwrapped another minty stick and shoved it into my mouth.

I struggled to bite around the solid sticks.

"You want to watch her struggle, don't you? I see that darkness," taunted Ger, but he was being serious. A strange fear shone behind his gaze when he looked at me, "You want her to suffer."

I whimpered but kept chewing. Harder this time. My mouth was covered in small cuts and sores, but I battled past the pain. I opened my lips for another.

By the end of three weeks, I was able to chew thirty-five sticks for over an hour without even straining a tendon.

"I'm ready," I told Gerry through the mountain of gum in my mouth. He smiled and nodded.

"You're ready."

To get a crocodile's attention, all you need to do is meet its eyes.

I stopped in the middle of the hall like a rock. The crowd jostled past me, but I stood my ground and waited. Like clockwork, the three girls rounded the corner. Bia's eyes slid, first over the scampering bottomfeeders, and then landed on me. She looked at me curiously, waiting for me to disperse. When I didn't, she raised an eyebrow and continued forward to meet me.

"Gum?" I pulled out a stick before she could say a word.

The moment surprised her, but she regained her composure in stride.

"Already got one," she pointed at her cherry-pink lips.

I didn't falter. I just smiled warmly.

"Two sticks won't be the end of the world," I shoved the gum in her face, "It'll just give you minty-fresh breath. And you want that, don't you? Minty. Fresh. Breath?"

Bia's smile disappeared. She noticed, then, the crowd that had started to form. She grabbed the stick and shoved it in her mouth.

I watched, emotionlessly. I pulled out another stick.

"Who are you?" She asked me meanly, letting the wrapped gum drop to the floor.

I laughed out loud. We stared each other down, neither of us willing to even glance at the fallen, blue-wrapped offering. Everyone around us held their breath. I slowly reached into my pocket and pulled out another stick. I unwrapped it and gently placed the gum on my tongue.

"Your worst fucking nightmare," I told her, chewing loudly. I blew a blue bubble into her face.

She squealed as it popped against her manicured eyebrows.

"You freak!" She turned to her posse and screamed, "What the hell are you waiting for? Get her!"

Her girls pinned me down. For a second, I lost breath. Spiralling brown and blond strands covered my vision before Bia appeared above me with shiny, glittering teeth.

"You're gonna wish you never said a word, bitch," she shoved a handful of sticks straight into my mouth.

The gum that was already in my mouth shot back into my throat. I choked. Hot tears spilled out of my eyes. My body convulsed but Bia held me down.

I coughed so that the pile of gum pushed against her palm. She pressed down harder on my lips, enough for them to start swelling. The cough, however, helped remove the piece of gum from my throat. I started to chew. She smiled viciously, "That's right. Chew, bitch. Chew."

The crowd started chanting the last three words as if they'd been caught in her spell. I glanced around, trying to find Gerry but he'd disappeared.

It was difficult to breathe and Bia was not moving off of me. My eyes rolled back. As they did, I caught a flash of light bouncing off Michelle's wires. The young girl stared at me tearfully, rageful, praying for some kind of miracle. It was enough for me to find the single ounce of energy I'd left.

I kneed the gigantic crocodile straight in her belly. She rolled off with a gasp. In their surprise, her posse released me to check on their friend. I sat up immediately, catching my breath. I didn't wait for long.

There is not a lot of time before the croc strikes again. I only had the element of surprise. I spat the wad of gum directly into Claire's hair. She screamed, trying to pull it off, but the damage was done. Mandy scrambled to help her. While they were distracted, I took my chance. I lunged.

Bia was mostly flesh and perfume. She yielded to my force instantly. I grabbed her by the throat, and used my knees to hold her arms down.

"That's right," I panted, hungrily. I shoved a few sticks, wrapper and all, into her mouth and covered her lips with my fist, "Chew."

Bia struggled, but I didn't care. I watched her gag and choke and then finally begin to chew. When I was sure that the gum was soft enough, I jammed yet another fistful of wrapped gum into her mouth. Tears rolled down her eyes, leaving dark, rotten trails.

Someone in the crowd yelled, "The wrapper!"

I didn't care. All I saw was Michelle's slack jaw. All I saw was Gerry's pale-white face. All I saw was my own red-hot rage pulsating through my body. Bia gasped and hiccuped and convulsed, but I pressed my fist down harder against her lips.

Something cracked beneath my knuckles; Bia screamed.

"Like that, huh?" I shoved another unwrapped stick down her gullet.

"Enough!" Hands grabbed me and tried to pull me off, "You're going to kill her! You're killing her!"

My elbow slammed into someone's face. The hands around me receded. I couldn't hear past the tinny sound in my ear and Bia's sobs sounded so delicious to me, I could lick it–

My neck snapped to the right. A loud ringing filled my left ear. I fell limp, clutching at my cheek, at my jaw which had somehow fallen off its hinge and was now hanging loosely.

People were screaming: "What did you do? What did you do?"

And, I guess I knew what they were talking about because I was staring straight into Bia's eyes except that they were bloodshot and blank and her lips were swollen and blue. I slowly rolled my eyes up.

The world was spinning, but goddamn, the victory I felt when I saw Michelle smile.