Summer: A High School Bully Romance (Sunset Beach High Book 4)

by McKayla Box

  Jake is wrestling with Kane on the sand.

  Brett is on top of some other kid and another guy is trying to pull him off.

  There's shouting and yelling and it's hard to make out who's doing what to who.

  It's total chaos.

  “Pres,” Trevor growls. “Get off me.”

  I look at him. “No. You can't. Don't.”

  His jaw trembles.

  I know he wants to help his friends. I know he feels obligated. He has a sense of loyalty to them and he knows this entire brawl is really about him.

  But if he gets up and gets into, it's just going to get worse for him.

  It's not worth it.

  I hear more yelling and shouting. I turn around, keeping my hands on Trevor's chest.

  Kane and Jake are up on their feet, both of them covered in sand.

  Brett is off the guy he was on and he's up and turned around, swinging at the guy who was trying to pull him off. He lands a punch directly on the kid's jaw and the guy crumples to the sand. He spins and turns his attention back to the guy he was on to start with.

  Other guys are clumped together around them, wrestling and punching.

  Jake swings wildly at Kane and misses. He stumbles forward. Kane grabs him from behind and swings him around, flinging him toward the ring.

  I see it all in slow motion.

  The angry glare on Kane's face.

  The sweat on Jake's forehead.

  The sand kicking up from his feet as he stumbles forward.

  He can't catch his balance and he's trying to get his arms out in from of himself.

  Kane rushes in behind him and shoves him hard.

  Jake's body pitches forward.

  His eyes widen as he starts to go down.

  And his head smashes into the concrete ring.

  Even in the chaos of the yelling and screaming, I hear the thud his head makes when it makes contact with the ring.

  And everything stops for just a moment as Jakes drops out of view on the other side of the ring.

  The thud is echoing in my head.

  It's grotesque.

  And I can tell by the way Kane is standing there, looking downward, that it's bad.

  Trevor pushes me off of him and scrambles to his feet.

  I sit there in the sand, trying to see Jake on the other side of the fire.

  Trevor sprints around the ring and you know how I know it's bad?

  Because he doesn't go after Kane.

  His feet slide out from under him and he's down on his knees, next to Jake.

  Kane is backing away.

  I push myself to my feet.

  Gina's hands are covering her mouth, her eyes wide, as she looks downward.

  My ears buzz as I try to get around the ring. It's like the sand is too soft or my legs won't work right. It's taking forever.

  People are yelling, but it's different than before.

  It's not fighting.

  It's panic.

  It's urgency.

  I finally make it around the ring.

  Jake is lying there. He's on his side, one of his arms twisted awkwardly beneath him. He's not moving.

  And a blackish-reddish liquid is seeping out from his head, staining the sand beneath him.

  “Call 9-1-1!” Trevor yells. He's on his stomach, his face right in front of Jake's. “Jake! Jake! Talk to me, buddy!”

  Jake doesn't move.

  My hands are shaking and I look around.

  Maddie has her phone to her ear and she's talking fast into it.

  Bridget is standing next to Gina. They're both crying.

  Brett crashes to the sand behind Trevor, his hand on Jake's ankles.

  The fighting is stopped.

  Everything has stopped.

  “Jake!” Trevor yells. “Jake! Hang on, buddy! Help's coming!”

  “They're coming!” Maddie yells. “I called!”

  I look down again.

  Jake still isn't moving.

  It looks like he's just taking a nap in the sand.

  But the pool beneath his head is expanding slowly.

  Trevor rips off his shirt, wads it up into a ball, and places it next to his head. “Hang on, brother. You're gonna be okay.”

  I look around again.

  It's completely silent.

  Kane is gone.

  His friends are gone.

  The sirens wail in the distance, getting closer by the second.

  My legs weaken and I sink to my knees, the sand biting into my skin.

  The fire is still cracking and popping.

  But it's dimmer and smaller now.

  It's dying off.

  The sirens are louder.

  Jake still isn't moving.

  “Fuck,” Brett whispers. “Come on. Get here.”

  Lights flash through the parking lot as the emergency vehicles pull into the lot.

  “They're here, buddy,” Trevor says. “They're here. You're gonna be okay. Just hang in there.”

  I see the EMT's jump out of their truck. Two police cars pull in behind them, followed by a fire engine, all of their lights swirling.

  I look at Trevor.

  And he's looking at me.

  There are tears in his eyes.

  The fire in the ring sinks lower.

  The EMT's are jogging across the sand, carrying bags and other equipment.

  I look back to Jake.

  And he still hasn't moved.

  He still hasn't moved.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  I'm in the back of Maddie's car. Gina is in the front seat and Bridget is in the back with me. We are driving toward the hospital.

  And no one's said a word.

  It's been at least an hour since they loaded Jake on a stretcher and put him in the back of the ambulance. After a quick argument that I couldn't hear, Trevor climbed in the back with them. The doors closed and they left the parking lot with the lights and siren screaming.

  The police talk to us. They ask us what happened. I barely remember what I said. I know I gave them Kane's name. I tried to remember exactly how it happened. I showed them my driver's license. Then they moved on to the next person. And the next. When the four of us are done talking to them, we get in Maddie's car.

  The hospital is five story building on the north side of town. It's shaped like a boomerang and we park in the lot in the middle. Maddie points to the sign that illuminates the entrance to the emergency room and we walk toward it.

  My legs are heavy and my stomach aches. I still have sand on my knees and my hands. The tears on my face have dried in long, sticky streaks.

  Maddie stops at the front desk and asks if they can tell us where Jake is. The attendant looks at a clipboard, then tells us that we can wait in the room down the hallway while she sees if she can find out where he is.

  We walk down the hallway.

  I feel numb.

  Or like I'm in a dream.

  Nothing feels real.

  We turn the corner and find the room.

  Trevor is there and Brett is sitting next to him. Brett is leaning back in the chair, his head resting against the wall. Trevor is hunched over, his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor.

  I sit down in the chair next to him, put my hand on his back, and clear my throat. “How is he?”

  “Don't know,” he says without looking up. “They haven't said anything. His parents are here. They're with doctor now.”

  “Did he ever wake up?” Bridget asks.

  Brett shakes his head.

  “They were doing CPR on him in the ambulance,” Trevor says.

  “Jesus,” Maddie whispers.

  “The whole way,” Trevor says. He sits up and leans back in the chair. His eyes are swollen and he looks exhausted. “They did it the whole way. As soon as we got in, they started. Didn't stop even when we got here.”

  Gina still has her hands over her mouth. I'm not sure if she's moved them since it happened. Her face is in a permanent state of shock.


  I rub his back and he goes back to staring at the ground.

  We sit like that for a long time, no one saying anything. My phone is vibrating in my pocket, but I ignore it.

  “Did they arrest him?” Trevor finally asks. “Kane?”

  I shake my head. “I don't think so. He was gone when they got there. I gave them his name.”

  “Me, too,” Maddie says.

  “Same,” Bridget says.

  Gina just nods.

  Trevor sits up and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes are dead, flat. He's just staring at the wall on the other side of the room. Whatever he's thinking, it's not good.

  But I can't blame him.

  He's angry.

  He's scared.

  And he wants to lash out.

  I get it.

  So I don't say anything.

  It's not the right time.

  Brett stands up and starts pacing. “This is fucking killing me. Waiting.”

  “He'll be okay,” Bridget says. “The EMT's got there super fast. The hospital is close. He'll be okay.”

  I'm positive she's saying it more to try and calm everyone's nerves than because she actually believes it.

  Because I know I don't.

  I heard the sound his head made hitting the concrete.

  I saw the blood.

  I saw him lay still in the sand until they picked him up.

  I can't get any of it out of my head.

  Trevor stands up. “I'm gonna go see if I can find out anything.”

  I watch him walk away and turn the corner.

  A clock ticks on the wall.

  I wrap my arms around myself. I'm still shaking.

  But I'm not cold.

  “Were they doing surgery or anything like that?” Maddie asks.

  “No clue,” Brett answers, sitting back down. “Trevor said they just wheeled him in and then took him into the emergency room. They didn't let him go in with him.”

  I try to take a deep breath, but it catches and comes out ragged. It feels like there's a big, cold rock in my stomach. My head aches.

  I stand up and start pacing like Brett. I need to move. I'm not sure why, but I need to just move. Sitting still is too hard. Maybe it's the waiting. I'm not sure.

  “There was so much blood,” Gina says.

  It's the first time she's spoken. Her hands are in her lap. Her eyes are glassy and she's staring straight ahead, unfocused. I think she's in shock.

  Maddie puts her arm around her and Gina lays her head on Maddie's shoulder.

  I walk to the entrance of the room and look down the hallway.

  Trevor is standing with a man and woman near the desk. The man is in shorts and a T-shirt. The woman is in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Her chin is tucked to her chest and the man has his arm around her. They aren't talking. They're just standing there. I feel like I'm spying on them, so I turn away and walk back to my chair.

  “Trevor's with Jake's parents,” I say. “At least, I assume that's them.”

  Bridget sighs. “This is brutal. The waiting.”

  And it is.

  It's awful.

  Because I can't stop thinking about all of the possible outcomes.

  Especially the ones I don't want to think about.

  I try to convince myself that I'm being irrational, that I'm focusing on the worst case scenario. I need to think positively, create positive energy.

  He'll be okay.

  He'll be back to cracking jokes soon.

  He'll be back trying to hook up with Gina soon.

  He'll be okay.

  I'm almost convinced.

  And then I hear a cry.

  It sounds like a wounded animal.

  I hear muffled voices.

  Then it's quiet.

  Then footsteps.

  And then Trevor is standing there, looking at us.

  And I know it even before he says it.

  “Hey,” he says. His voice is tight. Strangled. He clears his throat once. Then again. “Jake's dead.”

  Jake's dead.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  At some point, my dad shows up at the hospital. I don't know how he knew I was there, but he walks in. He sits down next to me, puts his arm around me. I lean into him.

  “Jake's dead,” I say and my voice doesn't sound like my own. It's like something I've never heard before.

  “I know,” he whispers. “I know. I'm sorry.”

  I cry and I can't stop. I sob.

  His arm wraps tighter around me.

  “He's dead,” I gasp.

  “I know,” my dad says again.

  My body shakes as I cry.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight, but it doesn't stop the tears.

  I grab onto him. “He's dead. My friend is dead.”

  “I know, Pres,” he says. “I'm sorry.”

  I'm not sure how long we sit there, but it feels like a long time.

  I can't stop the crying.

  And I can't stop hearing my own words.

  I want to shut them out, but I can't stop them. They just keep running through my mind, like they're on a ticker.

  Jake's dead.

  TWENTY NINE

  It's five days later and I'm sitting in a church.

  Jake's funeral.

  I don't recall much about the days since he's died. I've spent most of them either in bed or on my couch. I've barely spoken to anyone other than my dad. I've ignored my phone, other than texting Trevor a couple of times. He's responded with one word answers.

  I'm still numb.

  Except it hurts.

  I'm sitting with my dad near the front. Bridget is next to us with her parents. Gina and Maddie and their families are behind us.

  Trevor is across from us with his dad. He's in a dark suit, a dark blue tied knotted as his neck. His hair is combed back and I remember the night we had dinner with our dads at the beach and tennis club. I remember how surprised I was to see him, then how angry I was that he was there. He was more amused than anything else and he was more than happy to see how uncomfortable I was.

  It seems like a lifetime ago.

  Brett is next to him with his family. Both he and Trevor are just staring downward, like they can't bear to look up.

  And I don't blame them.

  There's a coffin at the alter. It's made of a cherry colored wood and there are gold handles on the sides of it. Next to it, on an easel, is a collage of pictures of Jake. On a surfboard. As a little boy. With Trevor and Brett. He's grinning in almost all of them, the same goofy grin he seemed to have on his face all of the time, like he was in on the joke before the rest of us.

  It hurts now to see that grin.

  The priest is talking. He's behind the lectern, but I'm barely listening. It feels like he's rambling. I know he's not, but that's what it all sounds like to me.

  Because there's nothing he can say that will bring back my friend.

  There's nothing that he can say that will make it okay. Or less painful.

  It just fucking hurts.

  Jake's father gets up to speak and I can barely look at him. My dad puts his arm around me, squeezes me gently. I hear his father speaking, but I can't process the words coming out of his mouth. He looks tired and sad, even when he tries to smile.

  Jake's mother is in the front row and her chin is tucked to her chest, just like it was at the hospital.

  The priest says more things.

  Then Trevor and Brett get up. There are other people in front of them who get up, too. Cousins, I think I heard Bridget say earlier, but I can't recall now. They all stand around the casket, each taking a handle. Trevor and Brett are in the front on either side, facing all of us now. Trevor is staring straight ahead. They lift the casket off the stand and walk slowly down the middle of the aisle.

  Music plays. Violins and strings of some kind.

  I can't catch my breath.

  Eventually, we stand and follow them out of the church. We walk to our cars and file out
of the parking lot. I'm slumped in the passenger seat, my head against the window. There are motorcycles leading us and we all run through the red lights. I've seen funeral processions before, but I've never been a part of one.

  I wish I wasn't.

  The cemetery sits on a bluff at the southern edge of Sunset Beach, up above the ocean. We all drive in and park alongside the rode. The grass is emerald green and freshly mown. We get out and walk across the grass to a spot near the edge of the bluff. Jake's casket lays on what look like thick straps to me, over the open grave.

  We gather round. The priest says more words. I don't listen.

  I look out at the ocean below us.

  The sun is shining and the water is a brilliant blue.

  Which seems all wrong.

  The breeze picks up and I turn back to the service.

  The priest is still talking.

  Trevor is standing across from him. His hands are folded in front of him and he's looking down at the grass. I can't see his face.

  Jake's mother is crying, leaning against her husband.

  A man in a dark suit near the priest walks slowly to the edge of the grave. There's a small hand crank that looks out of place. He squats down and places his hand on the handle of the crank. He turns it slowly and the casket begins to drop slowly into the grave.

  My stomach knots.

  I've never seen this before.

  And I don't ever want to see it again.

  The casket is finally lowered beneath ground entirely. The man turning the crank lets go, stands up, puts his head down, and walks back to his place near the priest. The priest says a few more words, something about eternal life and resting in peace and being in a better place.

  What a crock of shit.

  Jake's parents walk to the edge of the grave. They bend down together and his father lays a red rose on top of the casket. His mother sobs and he helps her back up.

  There is a small bucket next to the grave. It's filled with fresh soil. It reminds me of coffee grounds. Each of the pallbearers walks to the bucket and picks up a hand of the dirt. Then they drop it gently on top of the casket.

  Trevor goes last.

  He squats down and stays there for a moment. Then he holds his hand over the casket, letting the soil fall through his fingers, spilling on top of the casket. It covers the remaining visible part of the top of the casket.