Some Boys

by Patty Blount

  “Ian?” I call him, and the effect is like pouring water on flame. The cafeteria goes silent except for the hiss from the spectators who suddenly notice the floor show served with today’s meal.

  “No skanks, just men allowed here,” Jeremy calls to me.

  “Guess you’ll have to eat somewhere else,” I shoot back.

  “Back off, bitch.” He tries to look mean, but he can’t pull it off.

  Ian finally finds his voice. “Chill, Linz. What do you want, Grace? Sense a disturbance in the Force?” He snaps at me, and I flinch when the guys howl behind him. His eyes keep bouncing from me to Zac and back again, and with a dread that grows like a weed, I know. I get it. This is a court, and Ian’s on trial. They’re making him choose—them or me.

  I want to drop the tray and run, flee, buy my plane ticket to Europe, and never come back, but everything I told my mom comes rushing back to kick me in the gut. I said I was done running. I said I wouldn’t back down or hide or be quiet. I shift my weight to one side, throw a challenging look Ian’s way. Come on, jerk. Bring it. I won’t make this easy for you. Look me in the eye and say it.

  “Ian,” I try again, but his name is a hoarse croak.

  “Nice outfit.” Ian’s lips curl into a smirk. “You really like having every guy in the school undress you with his eyes, don’t you?”

  He ambles closer, examines the tray I’m still holding. “Food for me?”

  “Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t do this.”

  If he hears me at all, he shows no sign. He picks up a slice and then makes a face of disgust. “You didn’t touch this, did you?” He throws it back on the tray but takes the Tylenol, shoves it in his pocket. Behind him, Zac watches and grins. “Wouldn’t want to catch anything.” The guys erupt in loud cheers for that one. “Get the hell out of here,” he murmurs under his breath, and damn it, I can’t tell if he’s threatening me or warning me. I give it no more than a second of thought.

  It doesn’t matter the motive. All that matters is the action. And Ian Russell just stabbed me in the back.

  I whip around, hair flying, and strut to the trash bins, dump the whole tray. I don’t run. I don’t cry. I keep my head up when they call me slut and whore. In the corridor I can still hear them, whooping it up over Ian’s testimony.

  I guess the verdict is in.

  Chapter 24

  Ian

  She doesn’t run.

  Even with the jeers and laughter and food hurled at her, she doesn’t run. I watch her leave, rub my chest where it keeps burning, and wonder why the hell she had to pick today of all days to stage that tender moment. What the hell was she thinking? Today’s the day I have to tell these guys—my brothers—that I can’t play the rest of the season. That I may not be able to play ever again. They’re cool, so they’ll slap my back, shake their heads, tell me it blows, but that’ll be it. Life will go on.

  Without me.

  They’ll play in the tournament and celebrate their win while hot girls like Addie and Jess serve them breadsticks and stuffed-crust pizza. Some of them will even get the scholarships and head off to play college lacrosse, and I’ll still be here, standing in the same fucking spot with thinning hair and a beer gut. And goddamn it—it’s gone, over, all of it, and it never had the chance to happen. I shove my hands into my pockets and turn back to Zac.

  “Well, well, well, Russell, you’re just full of surprises.” Zac stands, muscles through the wall of men. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing. We cleaned lockers for a week. My dad hired her to take some pictures, and I’m driving her. That’s it.”

  “Really.” He raises his eyebrows. “Did you tell the collie that? ’Cause she looked a bit…uh, surprised.” The guys all laugh.

  “Took care of it, didn’t I?”

  Zac nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you did.” After another long silence Zac nudges me with his shoulder. “So what happened at the doctor yesterday?”

  I sigh. “Long story. You got time?” I jerk my head toward the rear exit.

  Zac shrugs and starts walking. When Jeremy stands, he puts out a hand to keep him planted here. The rear exit leads directly outdoors to a parking lot. Zac heads for an empty spot, sits on the concrete stop block, and waves a hand. “This doesn’t sound good.”

  I stay on my feet. “Ah,” I say and rake my hands through my hair. “It’s…um, not good at all.”

  “You serious? How not good are we talking?” He shifts to look at me straight on.

  “There may be some brain damage. Need more tests.” A lump suddenly forms in my throat. It’s a full minute before I can talk. “Can’t play the rest of the term. May have to miss the tournament. May not be able to play ever again.”

  “Jesus, Ian.”

  “Yeah.”

  It’s damp and warm out. Too warm. Everything I just said to Grace rumbles in my head like the thunder I hear in the distance. When the sun hides behind clouds, I clear my throat. “Know you don’t want to hear this, but I did talk to her last week.”

  Zac knows which her I mean. “Aw, hell, Russell, will you give that a fucking rest already?”

  I take a deep breath. This is gonna hurt. “You messed that girl up. Big-time.”

  He surges to his feet, gets in my face. “I messed her up? Are you kidding me?”

  “Listen. Just listen.”

  He paces a few steps away, turns back, and waves a hand. “Just say it.”

  “She was sick, man. Passed out, drunk. In her mind, that’s rape.”

  Zac shoves me back a step. “Fuck you. I know you! If you were there, you would have done the same thing, man. The same thing. Don’t you try to tell me otherwise.”

  I ignore the heat in his eyes because under it I can see the fear and worry. “In her mind,” I repeat my earlier words.

  “Yeah, I heard that. What the hell do you mean?”

  “I mean this is all just a colossal misunderstanding. She thought you were her friend. She doesn’t get why you didn’t try to help her. Or why you left her lying there. Maybe this goes away if you just apologize, tell her you didn’t know she was sick.”

  He levels me with a laser glare. “Are you high? Getting laid is what those parties are for, Russell. Everybody knows that. Why didn’t she stop drinking if she felt so sick? Why didn’t she stick by her girlfriends if she didn’t want me to touch her? Apologizing is like admitting I did something wrong, and I didn’t.”

  “To her, you did. You’re the man, Zac. Be one. Stop instigating shit with the other guys and even the girls. This all blows over if you do.”

  He rolls his eyes. “And you’re psychic now? See into the future?”

  “Jesus, is it really so hard for you to see where you went wrong here? Are you that blind? I spent a week with her. Her parents are pissed off. Miranda and Lindsay want to tear her hair out, and most of the school is on your side. Hell, Jeremy and Kyle nearly got their asses kicked and kicked off the team. How much more do you need? Everyone supports you! Everyone’s got your back! I’m telling you if you just tell Grace what you told me the other night, she’ll see it from your point of view too and maybe stop calling you a rapist. That clear now?” I fling myself to the stop block with a grimace.

  “Yeah,” he says quietly and sits next to me. I turn to look at him. He’s leaning over his knees, staring at the ground. “Yeah, it’s clear. Thanks.”

  I nod once.

  “I still can’t believe she really thinks I’d—” He breaks off, shaking his head.

  “I know, man. She’s got this thing in her head that you wanted to…like maybe punish her for saying no. She’s been following you all over the place with a high-powered zoom, trying to get a shot of your game face.” I tell him with a sad laugh. “Says it would prove you wanted to hurt her.”

  “My game face?” Zac stiffens.

  “Yeah, she says that’s the last thing she remembers.”

  After a long moment he shakes his head. “I swear, if I live to be a
hundred, I will never get girls, bro.”

  I huff out a laugh. “Same here.”

  “You still like her, don’t you?”

  I shift my weight, try to think of something to say. “I do, but we’re friends, Zac. I won’t move on her.”

  He laughs. “The disturbance in the Force thing? That was pretty damn funny.”

  I try to smile, but I can’t. It wasn’t funny. It was fucking cruel.

  “Okay, look, I get it. You’re in the middle of all this. I’ll tell the guys to lay off.”

  I nod. “Great.”

  The bell rings, and Zac gets up. “Social studies.”

  Zac walks ahead of me back inside the school. Like always, I follow.

  • • •

  Time drags its ass. When the last bell rings, I can’t escape fast enough. The clouds finally crack open, and rain falls in a steady drumbeat on the roof of my dad’s car. I sit in the student lot for a while, wait for traffic to thin out. I got nowhere special to be. I was supposed to drive Grace to the next job site on my dad’s list, but no way she’ll hang out with me now.

  What the hell was she thinking, showing up in the freakin’ cafeteria, dressed like a goth Hells Angel? Playing the Dr. Phil role in this drama is exhausting. Everybody’s so wrapped up in who’s right and who’s lying that nobody sees what it’s doing to the guy in the middle. Okay, I get that Zac and Grace won’t ever be able to hang out in a big group anymore, but why do I have to take a side? Why does it always piss off the other person whenever I try to stay neutral? Grace looked like she wanted to stick one of her high-heel boots through his jugular before, and Zac—jeez, if I so much as glance in Grace’s direction, I’m a traitor. The abrupt surge in temper surprises me, and I smack the steering wheel. I mutter curses and put the car in gear. As I leave the lot, I spot a face I haven’t seen in a week and power down the window.

  “Hey, Sarah! Need a ride?”

  “God, yes! Thank you so much. I missed the bus and don’t want to stick around for the late one.” Sarah Griffin scoots into my passenger seat, rakes soaked hair off her face, and dries her hands on her jeans. We went out a few times back in tenth grade. She’s cute but not obvious about it like some people. When I brake for the traffic light at the exit of the school’s lot, she shifts in the seat to face me. “So what the hell was that in the cafeteria before?”

  Grinding my teeth, I try to answer without yelling. “Spent the week cleaning lockers, and now Grace thinks we’re going steady. Had to set her straight.” I drive down Main Street, dodging deep puddles.

  “Huh.” Sarah laughs once. “Looked like you kicked her puppy or something.”

  Yeah, well, maybe she shouldn’t have surprised me like that. “What do you think of her?” I ask after a minute.

  Sarah’s mouth falls open. “What do I think? I don’t know. I think she’s got some issues to work out.”

  “Very diplomatic.” Laughing, I sneak a glance at her and put my eyes back on the road. “Come on. What do you really think?”

  Sarah lowers her eyes, fidgets with her seat belt. “I think she’s a pretty damn good actor. Always trying to look so tough. That’s gotta suck, you know? I mean, she knows she can’t let her guard down, even for a second.”

  I consider that while I drive. “Sarah, I need to ask you something.” I turn left onto her street. “You were at that party the night Zac and Grace—”

  “Got busy? Yeah, I was there.”

  “Help me out. I thought Grace liked me. Far as I knew, she went out with Zac twice and told him, ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I really want to be with Ian.’ That true?”

  Sarah nods. “Definitely.”

  I pull up in front of her place, a big single-level house with a monster pickup truck in the driveway. “So how did they hook up?”

  She spreads her hands and shakes her head. “Ian, you know how these things go. We were all drinking and dancing and getting silly. Zac kept putting the moves on Grace, and even though Grace kept shooting him down, that didn’t stop everybody else from teasing them.”

  “Teasing them?”

  “Oh, yeah. Miranda was about to go nuclear. Everybody knows she wants Zac McMahon bad. But Zac wouldn’t even look at Miranda. No challenge, you know? The more Grace told him no, the more Jeremy kept taunting him, ‘You gonna take that shit, dude?’ and the madder Zac got.”

  “How’d they end up going off together alone?”

  “Miranda threw beer in Grace’s face because Zac wouldn’t look at her. Like that’s Grace’s fault, right? Grace took off. Jeremy elbowed his lord and master, told him Grace just left. I knew right away he was gonna chase her.” Sarah collects her wet gear and hits the unlock button on the car door. “He had this look, like a lion after a zebra, you know? Thanks for the ride.” She calls out over her shoulder and closes the door.

  I drive home. I throw the car into park, cut the engine, and sit there while the rain dances on the windshield, trying not to squirm when I think of Grace. God, I was such an ass. I don’t get it. I just don’t get Grace. It’s like she’s daring me. I can’t be seen with her. She knows this. She even offered to find other transportation to take my dad’s pictures. She put herself out there in the cafeteria today with the food and the Tylenol, and I…I let my head fall to the steering wheel. I really am an ass. She was there for me. She was there because she thought I might need the pain reliever and braved all that shit for me.

  I find my dad in his office behind the garage.

  “Ian, have you seen the work Grace is doing? Look at these.” On the wide-screen flat panel, Dad enlarges an array of thumbnail images. They’re not just pictures. Grace must have Photoshopped them or something. She changed the sailfish my dad tiled at the bottom of a pool into a 3-D image to make it look like it’s leaping out of the water. In another shot, she blended a spilled glass of whiskey into a shot of kitchen counter tile so perfectly that it was hard to tell where the borders are. “Look at this one,” he breathes like he just uncovered buried treasure. I guess he did in a way. “This would be great on the website’s home page.” He points to the custom tile work he designed around this huge bathtub. Grace managed to find real flowers like the ones painted on the tile, arranged them so they seem to grow right out of the tub.

  Yeah, okay, so Grace is ridiculously talented. Doesn’t change anything, I decide with a loud sigh.

  Dad shoots me a look. “Am I boring you?”

  “Not really,” I say and shrug.

  “Then what’s bothering you?” Dad swivels his chair around to look at me. “You’re not worried about the tests, are you? Ian, I’m sure it’s just a precaution. You’ll be fine.”

  I sit on the corner of his desk. “No. I mean, yeah, but that’s not all.” God, it’s like I’m constipated. “It’s Grace. She thinks we’re friends now. You know, after last week.”

  “Weren’t you friends before you cleaned lockers together?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But now she thinks we’re more, and we can’t—”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because we can’t, Dad. Not now. Not after what—”

  Dad flings up a hand to cut me off. “Do not tell me you’re ashamed to be near her because she was raped.”

  I turn away. Pace. Scrub hands through my hair. “Um, well, yeah—”

  “Ian, I thought you were a bigger man than that.”

  “Dad, you don’t get it. Zac is—”

  “I don’t care about Zac. I care about you.” He stands and catches my shoulders, gives me a little shake. “You’re better than that. We raised you better than that. Forget about Zac. How do you feel about Grace?”

  I squirm out of his grip, my face burning. “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Did my father just curse? I gape at him until he waves a hand in frustration, and I cave. “Yeah, okay, I like her. But I can’t go out with her. The guys—”

  “Again I don’t care about the guys and don’t understand why you do. You like
her. She likes you—or so you think. Why does all that other stuff matter to you?”

  Guilt slithers around my gut. “It’s a betrayal, isn’t it? Grace says Zac hurt her. Zac says he did what every other guy in his position would have done—tried to score and got lucky. Being friends with one of them betrays the other person.”

  Dad paces away, sits back in his chair, and stares at the floor for a long moment. “Then I guess you have to choose.” He shrugs. “For what it’s worth, any man who ‘tries to score’ with a girl he’s not even dating isn’t much of a man in my eyes.” He shoots me one of those you-know-better looks.

  I look away. Pretty sure I don’t know a damn thing, except that I’m the man in the middle again.

  • • •

  Alone in my room I roll onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, replaying everybody’s words again and again. What Sarah said about Grace letting her guard down—she’s right. Can’t believe I didn’t notice that. That first day of locker cleaning time she wouldn’t work on the other side of the hall because she was afraid to put her back to me.

  Me?

  I’m harmless.

  Except to mailboxes late at night. I slap hands over my eyes and curse. I replay every moment from last week. Suddenly the tough chick costume makes a lot more sense. From the first second we met, Grace looked at me like I was about to shove her against a wall. I thought she was looking at me with lust in her eyes, and it’s actually fear. More proof that I know nothing.

  Can’t do this anymore. I leave my bed, power up my computer, and check my email. Coach Brill sent some stats from last week’s drills camp. I open the message, wince at the gaping blank space next to my name, and skim the others. Jeremy improved in cradling, but he’s still weak—no surprise there. Kyle really leaped up in passing and scooping, and of course, Zac’s percentage of saves and clears is high. But so is the number of personal fouls.

  Interesting.

  I click the link that goes to the team’s website, access the video files. The coaching staff archives game footage we study for retrospectives. I play a few. And then a few more. I stare at pictures of him taken during the game I got hurt in. Oh, he got penalized in this game too? I click the video and there it is—game face. That’s what Grace called it. Sarah said Zac looked like a lion going after prey.