I grab the blender out from the cabinet. Plop it onto the counter. Plug it in. Stare at its curved blades, shining in the low light.
Then I swing open the freezer door. Grab the half-eaten tub of chocolate ice cream. Reach into the fridge, grab the carton of skim milk.
3 scoops of ice cream. 2 cups of milk. 1 deep breath.
My hands shake in the air, over the ‘ON’ button.
Then I close my eyes and push.
The whirring sound fills my ears. But even though I can’t hear it, I know it’s coming. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. But I don’t turn around.
I just close my eyes and wait for it all to be over.
***
It all started five years ago.
We’d listened to the song “Milkshake” by Kelis about twenty times while doing each other’s makeup, dancing around, and talking about boys. We were seventeen, without a care in the world… except the party happening later that night at Matt’s house.
“Hey. I have an idea.” Irena, our resident goth girl, turned down the music and smiled to us with a sparkle in her eye. Her black hair nearly reached her waist, and she was wearing so much eyeshadow it looked like her eyes were just floating in their sockets. “For us to look really hot tonight.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Carmen asked, not looking up from the mirror.
“Just a little thing I found,” she said with a giggle. “Leave everything to me.”
We should’ve realized Irena was going to pull some witchcraft shit. Especially when she lit a few of my candles and started muttering to herself. But we were barely paying attention. Carmen was dusting an extra layer of glowy foundation over her perfectly brown skin, and I was running a straightener over a stubborn curl of hair.
Her chants melted into the repetitive chorus of the song:
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…
***
“Landon won’t even talk to me.”
Irena found me sitting in the corner, drinking some peppermint schnapps, glaring at the well-built football player across the room. Everyone was laughing and having the time of their lives, while I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy I’d pined over all year. Talking to another girl.
A blonde, because of course. I frowned at my own dark hair—and the curl that ran down my shoulder, springing back to life on this humid South Carolina night.
“I think I know just the thing to cheer you up,” Irena said, taking my hand. “Come on.”
She led me into the kitchen. My confusion only grew when she opened up Matt’s freezer and pulled out a massive tub of Cookies ‘n’ Cream ice cream. Then she grabbed a cup, a spoon, and a carton of milk.
“Have a milkshake.”
“No way. I’ve had way too many calories today already.”
“Seriously,” she said. “Just make one. I promise it’ll make you feel better.”
I sighed. Cookies ‘n’ Cream was one of my favorite flavors. Finally, I reached for the spoon. Plunged it into the ice cream. Plop. Grabbed the milk and poured it in. Glug-glug-glug.
Then I grabbed the spoon—and began to stir.
As soon as I began to stir… something happened. I could feel a shift in the air. The humidity evaporating. The loud sounds of conversation and music seemed to grow quieter. The light overhead flickered, for just a second.
I paused, looking up at the light. “What was—”
Thump.
I glanced up to see Landon standing in the doorway.
Staring right at me.
At first, my heart fluttered. But then my butterflies turned to dread. He was just… staring… at me. Not even blinking. Not even moving.
“… Landon?” I asked, hesitantly.
I glanced at Irene. She was grinning.
“Landon?”
His mouth, slowly, stretched into a grin.
But the grin didn’t reach his eyes, which remained laser-focused on me.
“Landon! There you are!” The blonde came rushing into the room. Then she glanced at me. “What are you doing? I thought we were gonna—”
He turned his head. Still grinning.
Then he raised his arms—
And in one swift motion, bashed her head into the floor.
Screams erupted. A pool of blood seeped into the kitchen tile. But all I could do was stare at Landon—who was now walking right towards me.
“Get away from me!” I shouted, backing up.
He quickened his pace, reaching for my arm.
I darted away from him. Ran out the back door, into the yard. Ran around the side of the house and sprinted out onto the sidewalk—
I froze.
Several men stood on the sidewalk. Motionless in the darkness, little more than silhouettes. Front doors of the surrounding houses stood wide open. The men varied in age, from middle-aged fathers to teenagers like me.
Thump-thump-thump—
I whipped around. Landon was closing in on me, jogging at full speed. Hands flattened as they pierced the air, like sprinters’ when they’re going for the gold.
I turned and ran for the car.
I dove into the front seat just as Landon caught up with me. His face hit the window, hard—and then he began clawing at the door. I screamed. The shadows shifted and I realized the other men were catching up to me, too. *Thump—*a portly one rammed himself into the passenger door. Over and over. As if the blood trickling down his forehead didn’t even register. An elderly man climbed up on the trunk, pounding at the back window. Another teenager joined Landon in trying to pry the door open—
“Shit. The keys.”
I’d given them to Carmen. She was the only one with pockets. “Fuck you!” I screamed at Landon, whose wild eyes stared at me from the other side of the glass. “Get the fuck away from me!”
Oh, no.
One of the men—a nerdy man in his thirties—grabbed a large rock by the side of the driveway. I watched in horror as he lifted it over his head, aiming for my window—
Crash.
The rock flew through the back window. As soon as it fell away, four mens’ hands thrust their way into the car, blindly groping the air.
I screamed, opened the door, and lunged out into the air. A hand grabbed mine—and I looked up into Landon’s crazed eyes. “No!” I screamed, jerking my hand back. And then I ran as fast as I could.
After twenty minutes, I found myself alone.
***
After what happened, Carmen lived her life never making milkshakes. I thought I’d do the same. It seemed a small price to pay.
But then it happened.
Last night, in my small town, a woman was raped. The cops think he’s hiding somewhere, and while they don’t have the means to flush every straight man out into the open, I do.
I’m not sure I’ll survive. I’ve barricaded the doors and windows, but I think that somehow, they might find a way in. So I’m writing this up and posting it before they have the chance. As I sip my milkshake, I can see them beginning to swarm. Walking down the sidewalk, coming out of their houses, homing in on me.
But I know I’m doing the right thing. Because I’ve always wondered something: why the other guys at the party didn’t follow me out. Why more men from the neighborhood didn’t come out of their homes. And it became crystal clear when Landon was not only arrested for hurting the blonde girl, but forcing oral sex on a classmate.
Maybe the cops will arrest more than one man today.
I smile and take another sip.