by Patty Blount
I pull out my phone and stare at it for a long moment, then play the video again. I think about Zac helping me pass my midterm and covering for me after I dented the car, about his total confusion when he admitted he tried to score with Grace because she was drunk. “Isn’t that what those parties are for? You’d have done the same thing if you’d been there!”
No! Zac, stop. I don’t want to.
I would have stopped. I swear I would have stopped.
Nobody gets to tell me no.
I suck in a big breath and do what I should have done the minute I watched this damn video—text Coach Brill, attach Zac’s video to the message. After a beat I tap out a quick message warning him to view it alone. It’s not much, but I want to protect Grace’s privacy. The next call I make is to the detective who questioned me the night I took Grace to the hospital.
“How did you obtain this video, Ian?” Detective Buckley asks when I tell him what’s on it.
“I took it off Zac’s phone.”
“You took it. In other words, you helped yourself?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Ian, email me the video, and I’ll see what I can do, but—” he trails off, and I get what he’s not saying. As evidence goes, it’s not much.
My phone buzzes with a text message. Coach Brill orders me to meet him in his office now. I start the car and drive back to school, my stomach twisting tighter with each mile. It’s dark when I get there, but the team’s still out on the field, running practice drills. I turn my back and start the long, lonely walk to the locker room. The smell of sweat and other funk never goes away.
I’m really gonna miss it.
My phone’s tucked securely in my pocket. I pace, shoes squeaking on the tile outside the coach’s office.
I didn’t tell Grace about the video.
I wanted to.
I thought about it half a dozen times.
I wanted to be her hero. Wanted her to throw her arms around me, all gushy with gratitude.
But I didn’t.
I have no reasons, just excuses. After all the shit I said and did, she still likes me. Why? There’s no reason for it. I don’t have half the female population cooing about how drop-dead gorgeous I am. I’m nowhere near as smart as Zac. I have no clue what I want to do with my life. And oh, let’s not forget the dent I put in the car because I didn’t think it was a big deal to drive when I was buzzed. I’m a real fucking prize. She deserves more than me. She deserves a warrior like her.
The doors open with a clang. I freeze halfway through my pace path, quiver like a three-year-old after a nightmare. Cleats clack, and suddenly Zac is standing right in front of me. “Russell? What the hell, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
A strangled laugh escapes. Yeah. I guess I have.
He heads to his locker, strips off sweaty gear. “Seriously, dude. What’s up with you?” Behind him, the rest of the team files in, but I ignore them.
I swallow hard. “Zac, I asked Grace out.”
Zac’s face comes apart—eyes pop, jaw drops, nostrils flare. “What the hell did you say?”
“I asked her out. I like her. I liked her first. You shouldn’t have moved on her at all. But you did, and that’s done.”
Zac paces away, hands apart. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. That skank is trying to ruin my life, and you want to slow dance at the prom with her? Are you tripping, man?”
“Zac—”
“No! No, man. I forbid it.”
I blink. “You what?”
“You came to me, said what you had to say. Now it’s my turn. I forbid it.”
“I’m not asking your permission.”
“Then what the fuck are you asking for?”
“The truth!” I shout back. “What did you do to her? And don’t feed me the party line about how she asked for it.”
He stops pacing, slowly turns to face me, and crosses his arms. “I don’t like your tone. Bro. You’re supposed to be my friend. First you tell me you’re hot for a girl I already did—who wasn’t that good by the way—and then you ask me a question that’s not even a question.”
The guys all stop what they’re doing and watch. My blood’s heating up. “Wasn’t that good? That’s funny.” I laugh once. “Not what you said after the party. Not what you said on Facebook when you posted that little video tribute.”
Zac laughs. “Ian, you got it bad, don’t you? Okay, look. All that was just talk. I was hoping for an encore, you know?”
“An encore. Uh-huh. How’d that work out for you?”
The smile switches off. “You are really pissing me off.” He takes a few steps toward me, and I shift sideways. He looks at me in horror. “Look at us. Is this what you want? We been friends for years, and now we’re about to fight over some—”
“Don’t say it, man.”
“What, slut? Whore?”
“Zac, tell me what you did to her.”
“I banged her, man. That’s it, and it wasn’t worth it since all she did was lie there—”
“What did you just say?” I angle my head. He admitted it. He just admitted she was unconscious. “What happened to your first story? She was totally into it, and now all she did was lie there. Which one’s true, Zac?”
He stands there, face red, eyes shocked. For the first time since I met Zac, he doesn’t have a witty comeback. Matt and Kyle exchange a worried look. Jeremy inches his way closer.
“Zac. Just tell me. I’ll go with you to the cops. This doesn’t have to—”
“The cops? Jesus Christ, are you out of your mind?” He rubs a hand across his mouth. But his face changes. I’ve never seen Zac scared before…until now.
“I know what you did. Zac, I know.”
His eyes fill with regret, and his shoulders droop. “Ian. I don’t know how it happened. I…Christ, I just couldn’t stop.”
Holy fuck. “It’ll be okay. We’ll—”
The breath whooshes from my lungs when Zac whips around to plow his fist into my gut. I fold in half, and he follows up with another fist to my face that sends me sprawling into the lockers. My vision goes blurry, and when I taste blood on my tongue, my old pal Zac leans over me, eyes blazing. “You found it, didn’t you, Russell? Where is it?” He pats my pockets, finds my phone, and drops it to the floor, smashes it with his cleats. “You want to go to the cops with no proof to back up your little story? You want this team to see how you rolled over on a brother? You do that.”
The regret I swear I saw in his eyes a second ago is gone. Just like the bonds of friendship. I scramble to my feet and land one punch to Zac’s jaw before Jeremy gets my arms pinned behind my back. The rest of the team closes in. “She said no, Zac. She told you no, but you didn’t listen.”
Zac laughs. “I never heard no, man. All I heard were moans.”
“You did. You said nobody gets to tell you no, and then you fucking raped her.”
The smile drips off his face, and a second later he’s got a fistful of my shirt in his hand. “You weren’t there, Russell. Your phone is in pieces. So where’s your proof? Huh, pal?”
“With the police. And with Coach Brill.”
When Zac’s face pales and his grip on me goes slack, I twist the knife a little deeper. “Zac, you don’t really think my phone had the only copy of that video, do you?”
“What video?” Matt asks. “What the hell’s he talking about, Zac?”
I stomp on Jeremy’s foot, break out of his hold while Zac slumps to a bench, his face white. “The video he took while he raped Grace. She said no. She said to stop. But he said nobody gets to tell him no. And when she passed out, he forced her. Why’d you keep it, Zac? You’re such a smart guy, why did you keep it?”
As soon as I ask the question, the answer comes to me. A trophy. Zac needed a damn trophy.
“No. No, that can’t be right, man. Tell him! Tell him that’s not right,” Kyle demands.
“He’s lying!” Jeremy shouts. “He just wants to do her
himself.”
Kyle stares at me. “Russell, what the hell are you saying?”
“Kyle, I wouldn’t lie about this. Zac would. He did.”
With a roar, Zac lunges for me, shoves me into a locker, and before I can get my hands up to defend myself, he lands a blow that rings my bell. I slide to the floor and curl into a ball as his fists pound my face, a cleat lands in my side. Shouts and screams fill my ears. I can’t move air and the way my head is ringing, and I know I’ve just suffered my last concussion. I spit blood and blink, but it’s no good. I’m fading. I stare up into Zac’s face, but the Zac I know isn’t here anymore. It’s Grace’s game face, Sarah’s hunter face, and when he brings his fist back for the punch I know will kill me, I keep staring at him because I want him to know that I see what he really is.
That’s when a huge paw closes around Zac’s fist and hauls him off me. Coach Brill looks down at me and roars at the team, “Call 911!” he shouts at the blur on his right. “What did you do, Zac? What the hell did you do?” He shakes Zac like a rag doll.
Wasn’t easy. But I did it. I shut my eyes and slide under the gray.
• • •
“You could stay home again today,” Mom reminds me for the twelfth time since they let me out of the hospital.
“Mom, it’s fine. Really. Just help me get the sling on.” I’m banged up pretty good. Luckily my ribs are just bruised, not cracked. Keeping my arm immobile really helps the pain.
She frowns at the ugly purple stain on my chest and winces just as somebody taps on my bedroom door.
“What?”
The door opens. Grace stands on the other side, and her bright eyes laser right on to my manly ripped chest and not the bruise.
Definitely not the bruise.
“Um, your dad said I could come up, but I—” She points back downstairs.
“No, it’s okay. Come on in. Mom, could you give us a few minutes, please?”
She smooths the hair out of my eyes and gives me the look, and my face burns. But she leaves, shutting the door behind her.
“Ian. You sure you’re up for this?” Grace sits on my bed, her knees bouncing—the only outward sign she’s terrified. I don’t know why. She’s faced a hell of a lot worse.
I slowly sit next to her, trying not to wince, and put a hand over her knee. “Well, I thought about Europe. Semester abroad program, but—” I grin, and she rolls her eyes and grabs my shirt, helps me wrestle it on.
“I didn’t mean school. I mean, us.”
Us. That’s why she’s scared. “Never been more sure of anything.” She turns those bright eyes on me, and I can see the words mean something to her. They mean something to me too. She nods and smiles. I squeeze her knee, lean in, and kiss her until the pain fades away.
She pulls back, slips the sling over my head, tucks my left arm into it. I try not to breathe. Then I try not to squeal like a girl when she tightens the straps.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” I squeal.
Damn it.
She looks around my room, and it hits me. This is the first time she’s been up here. “You built all of these?” She asks with a jerk of her thumb toward the shelves over my desk that hold my Enterprise—the aircraft carrier, not the starship—and my Falcons, the Navy jet and the Star Wars ship, plus an assortment of cars I think are cool.
“Yeah. Told you I like building stuff.”
She nods and stares at her toes. She’s not wearing her superhero costume today, and I kind of miss it.
“Ian—”
“Grace—”
We both start at the same time and then laugh. Awkward.
“You go first,” I offer.
She nods once, bites her lip, and tries again. “Thank you.” She shrugs, laughs once. “I know that doesn’t cover it all. For going up against your friends, for finding that video, for going to the police, even for saying you believed me. And then you got beat up for me.” She slips a hand into my hair and gently rubs my head. “You got another concussion. I know what that means for you, and I’m so, so sorry.”
I shut my eyes and enjoy the feel of her fingers against my scalp for a minute. When I set her straight, she’ll probably take off. But it’s the right thing to do. “Grace, I appreciate the thought, but don’t thank me. Truth is I didn’t do this for you. Or…not only for you.”
Her hand freezes against my head.
“I couldn’t live with it, Grace. Even if I never found the video, I couldn’t live with the way Zac was treating you.” I reach up, wrap my free arm around her waist. “I didn’t see it. Not until you made me look. God! I hated you for making me look.” She pulls away from me, but I keep going. I need to say this. I need her to get it. “The way Zac treats girls—our server at Pizza Hut, my sister, even his mom—girls are just here for his convenience, and after a while I started to hate him for that. Grace, I started to hate myself. I don’t want to be that guy. So I guess that’s why I did it.”
Her mouth falls open, and her eyes go misty.
“Aw, hell, don’t do that.”
She laughs, wipes her eyes. “I will if I want to. I even stopped wearing black eyeliner in case.”
I nod. I’d noticed. “I like the way you look without all the makeup.” I whip up a hand when she opens her mouth to argue. “You know, when I was waiting for Coach Brill in the locker room the other night, I kept wishing I could be the hero for you. Save you.” Grinning, I remember how she battled Miranda and even a stupid piece of glass. “Hell, you don’t need a hero. You just save yourself. You know what you do need, Grace?”
She spreads her hands apart, shakes her head.
“You need a guy who gets you.”
She swallows, licks her lips, and my brain almost fries. “Is that you?”
“God, I hope so.”
She smiles and leans over, presses her lips to mine, and for a minute, I don’t feel any pain.
“Is your dad mad at me for all this? No team, no scholarship and all that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. He’s been weirdly quiet about everything the past few days.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been thinking though.” Thinking’s pretty much all I can do right now. “Mechanical engineering. A lot of the state schools have decent programs.”
Grace stands, takes the Enterprise off my shelf. “You’d be able to build real stuff.”
“Yeah, stuff that comes from my mind instead of from a kit. Plus, the tuition is a lot cheaper than at the private schools. Besides, scholarships were never a guarantee.” I shrug and then wince. Bad idea.
She puts the model back and flips her hair behind her shoulders. “I think it’s a great idea. Did you tell them yet?” She jerks her chin toward the door.”
“No. No way. I don’t need to hear another lecture about my math grades and how I threw away any shot at an athletic scholarship. I did what I did, and that’s done.”
“Ian,” she says and holds out her hand to me. I take it and slowly stand up, facing her. “You should tell them.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.” I glance at my alarm clock. “Come on. We should go. Don’t want to be late.”
She snorts out a laugh, and we head outside where my dad’s got the car running and waiting. The drive to school is quiet and uncomfortable and way too fast.
Dad pulls up in front of the school. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that? Dad, I’m fine. No headaches. My ribs are trussed up tight. Besides, I’ve got my own personal bodyguard with me.” I grin at Grace in the backseat. Nobody can get through her. The girl is fierce.
“Okay. Go straight to the nurse if you feel dizzy. I won’t be far today. I can be here in ten minutes if—”
“Dad. Relax. I’m good.” I open my door. Grace opens hers. She’s got both our backpacks because even though I feel good, I can’t quite manage the weight yet.
“Ian?” Dad powers down the window.
; “Yeah?”
He stares straight out the windshield. “Proud of you. Never been prouder.”
A lump the size of Coach Brill’s fist suddenly forms in my throat. I nod. “Thanks,” I manage to croak out. He starts to power up the window, but I raise my good arm to stop him. “Dad, if you have some time today, look up the SUNY mechanical engineering programs, okay?”
His jaw drops, but he quickly closes it. “Mechanical engineering. Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.”
As Dad drives off, Grace slips her hand into mine. “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?”
“I guess. So are you ready for this?” I squeeze her hand.
“Not even a little.”
I pause in my climb up the steps. “Did you get hassled? You said people were cool to you the past few days.”
Grace shakes her head. Her hair’s wild today, tumbling down her back. Even though she’s not wearing the ass-kicker boots, it’s okay. I’ve still got my souvenir stud in my pocket.
“No, pretty much everybody was cool. Mrs. Kirby apologized for the whole Shrew class thing.”
I nod. That’s good. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” I tug her hand, and we head into the school together. Heads swivel. Mouths fall open, but most break into grins.
“Ian, how you feelin’, man?”
“Better, thanks.”
“Good to have you back, Russell!”
I grin and nod. Grace’s hand twitches in mine. After a few minutes I get why.
People are still ignoring her. Until we get to her locker.
“Khatiri, hi.”
The girl at Grace’s locker turns, grabs Grace in a hug, and squeals. “Oh, I’m so happy for you both. And glad you’re okay, Ian.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Khatiri’s smile fades. “Um, Grace.” She tugs a folded square of paper from her pocket. “I was asked to give you this, and this time I’m doing it in person. Uh, something about you switching phones with your mom?”
