Some Boys

by Patty Blount

  Frowning, Grace nods and reads the note. “It’s from Miranda and Lindsay.” She looks up at me, and those bright eyes of hers sparkle with tears. “She says they’re sorry and want me to sit with them during lunch.”

  She folds up the note, and then her eyes snap up to Khatiri’s. “Wait. You just said ‘in person.’ Why?”

  Khatiri bounces on her toes. “Um. Yeah. The last time I had a note for you, I chickened out. I left in a place I knew you’d find it.”

  Grace’s eyes go round. “The photography book! That was you? Oh my God.”

  Khatiri stares at the floor, shifts on her feet. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s okay.” Grace opens her arms and hugs Khatiri. “Thank you.”

  “Did it help? I mean, did you call?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did, and it helped.”

  Grace and Khatiri smile and hug again, and I have no freakin’ clue what the hell is happening here.

  “Okay, well, I’ll leave you two to, um—See you later.” She waves a hand from me to Grace and takes off.

  I lean over to whisper in Grace’s ear. “What the hell was that about?” But she only shrugs.

  “Tell you later.”

  Before I can say anything, I spot Erin Specht heading this way and resist the urge to pretend I don’t see her.

  “Um, Grace? Just hang here for a minute, okay? There’s something I need to do.”

  She nods, and I take off. “Hey, Erin! Wait up.” Erin glares at me like she wants to strangle me with the strap on her backpack, and I swallow hard. “This won’t take long. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Her mouth falls open, so I keep going. “It wasn’t cool, the way I treated you. It took me a while to figure that out and even longer to man up and apologize for it. I hope you can forgive me someday. So. That’s it.”

  She says nothing. But her eyes fill with tears, and she presses her hands to her mouth, nodding vigorously. My eyes pop when she hugs me for a moment. Christ, that hurts. Then she pulls back with a watery smile, waves, and leaves.

  “What the hell was that?” Grace demands when I go back to her.

  “Um. Don’t hate me, okay? That was Erin Specht. I finally grew a pair and apologized to her.”

  “For what?”

  Where the hell do I start? “Tell you later. Come on. Bell’s gonna ring.”

  The morning passes in a blur. By lunchtime my ribs ache, and the bruises on my face pound. I grin because Grace will probably have her bottle of pain relievers handy. In the cafeteria I watch Miranda and Lindsay approach Grace. I move closer, ready to step in if I have to. But Miranda just wraps her arms around a shocked Grace. After a minute Grace hugs her back.

  Girls are so weird. I shake my head. If it were me, I’d tell her to get lost.

  Grace sees me and frowns. “You’re pale. Here,” she says and fishes out the bottle of pills.

  I laugh.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I wrap my free arm around her. “Just like the way you take care of me.”

  With a grin, she wriggles free and points to a table. “Sit there. Take the water. I’ll get food.”

  I do as I’m told because I wasn’t lying. I really do love the way she fusses over me. As I crack the seal on the bottle of water and drown two capsules, shadows cross my table. I look up, find Kyle, Matt, and Jeremy standing around me, looking tense.

  I brace, and my eyes almost cross from the pain. Kyle puts up his hands. “Relax, man. We’re here to apologize.”

  This should be good. I wait, but they just stand there, staring at their feet, the ceiling, out the window—anywhere but at me.

  “So,” I say and then clear my throat. “Is there any word?”

  The guys look ill. “Yeah. Zac’s officially off the team. Cops arrested him yesterday, but everybody’s saying it won’t stick. Coach is still considering whether to punish the whole team.” Matt shoves his hands into his pockets.

  “I admitted I was the one who called Grace that name in front of her dad, not Matt,” Kyle adds. “Maybe he’ll just bench me instead of all—” His shoulders sag like he already knows there’s little hope of that actually happening. “What about you? Are you like…permanently injured?”

  I nod. “Looks that way. Besides the bruises and sore ribs, Zac gave me another concussion—my third this year. I’m done, guys. I can’t play again.”

  Matt winces, puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezes gently. “Really sorry, bro.” Then he snaps straight up like somebody shot him. I follow his eyes. Grace strides toward us, carrying a tray of food. She’s got on the warrior face—the face that says, I dare you to say something, and when the guys all shift their weight and clear their throats, I get that they’re here to apologize to her, not me.

  She slides the tray across the table and sits down, glaring at each of them in turn. Kyle clears his throat. “Um. Grace? We just wanted to say we’re sorry for hassling you.” He smacks Jeremy’s head.

  “Um. Yeah. Sorry.”

  Grace shuts her eyes for a minute, and when she opens them, the attitude is gone. She slides the tray closer. “You want some pizza?”

  Kyle grins and beats Jeremy to one of the slices. “Sure. Thanks.” All three of them grab chairs, and in minutes the tray is a sad reminder of lunch past. Again, I’d have told them to get lost, but my girl’s a bigger person than I am. I swallow a grin. She raises her eyebrows, and I just shake my head and laugh.

  Good thing she can’t read my mind, or she’d hurt me for that my girl thought.

  Chapter 29

  Grace

  I pull over to the curb, kill the engine, and put my head on the steering wheel. A hand brushes my hair.

  “Panic attack?”

  With my head still on the wheel, I turn, peek at Ian. “No. Just immense dread.”

  He shakes his head with a laugh. “After everything you been through, you’re gonna let a kiddie party break you?”

  I shrug and practice my deep breathing technique, thoroughly enjoying Ian’s fingers dancing through my hair, and finally sit up.

  “Better?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I lean over to kiss him gently. It’s only been a few days since the attack in the locker room. He’s not allowed to drive until his doctor is sure he won’t have seizures or dizzy spells. “How’s your rib?”

  He’s not wearing the sling, but I know he’s still in pain.

  “The rib’s fine. But honestly? I’m a little dizzy.” He winces a bit, and when I pull back to examine him for myself, he quickly adds, “I think I’m just rocked by how good you look.”

  I press a hand to my flapping heart and glare at him in horror. “Oh, God, you actually dig the pink.”

  “Oh, yeah. This?” He traces a finger around the pink leather studded gauntlet on my wrist. “Nice touch.”

  “Well, it matches the sweater set.”

  “You in a pink sweater set. Your dad’s gonna faint.” He nuzzles me, kisses my cheek, and I feel the tension pour from my limbs.

  “Could be worse,” I point out. “I could have added pearls.”

  Ian laughs. “You ready?”

  “I guess.” We open our doors.

  “Gift?”

  I grab the wrapped boxes from the backseat, join him at the curb. “Check.”

  “Fighting spirit?”

  I roll my shoulders and crack my neck. “Check.”

  “Okay. Before we go in, need to tell you something.” Ian runs his hands up my arms to rest on my shoulders. “My take on all this? Your dad messed up, and he knows it but can’t accept it.”

  I give him an eye roll. “Come on. It’s not nuclear physics.”

  “It’s kind of a guy thing. We’re like…programmed to protect our girls. And I know you hate the whole ownership thing, but you can’t fight DNA.”

  “Yeah, so? What’s your point?”

  “He failed, Grace. You got hurt, and he can’t face that.”

  I stare at him for a moment. Oh my God, are guys seriously thi
s moronic?

  “Look, I was in the hospital waiting room that night. He rushed in, screaming for names. One of the detectives had to take him outside, calm him down. He messed up, Grace. He knows it. Give him a chance to stand up like you did for me.”

  I shrug. “Okay.” I push open the gate to the backyard. “But if Kristie says one word about my attitude, I’m dropping her.”

  “There’s my warrior woman.”

  “Oh, you’re just asking for it now.”

  Ian just grins. We walk through the backyard gate, and a minute later Kody attacks me, fueled by a sugar high. “Grace! Grace! Is that for me?” He grabs at the boxes in my hands.

  “Happy birthday, little dude.”

  Next to me Ian coughs and shakes his head once. “Jeez, do not call him that.”

  “I’m five now, Grace. I’m not little anymore.” Kody pouts, and I laugh.

  “I’m sorry. Let’s see.” I tug him to my side, measure his height against mine. “Oh, wow. You’ve definitely gotten taller. Look how high you are!”

  “Whoa.” Kody’s eyes go wide. “Come on, come see the snake. It’s so cool and not slimy one bit.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Mom! I got more presents!” Kody runs off with his treasure.

  Kristie, a pitcher of some red juice in her hand, turns with a flip of sleek blond hair and spots me by the gate. The smile freezes on her face, and her eyes dart across the deck to my dad, who’s pricking hot dogs sizzling on the grill with a giant fork. Dad follows Kristie’s glance, puts down the fork, and joins us. “Kody’s already overloading on the candy. He’s really excited.” He gives me a kiss on my cheek and turns to Ian, oblivious to my uncomfortable smile. “Ian. How are you feeling, son?”

  “Better, Mr. Collier. No headaches.”

  “Good. I want you to sit down, take it easy. Any dizziness, any problems, you go right inside and lie down for as long as you need, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dad smiles and then looks at me. The smile stays, but it’s not as bright now. “Glad you made it, Grace.”

  I don’t roll my eyes, but I hold up my hands in surrender. “I know Kristie told me not to come, but I promised Kody, Dad. I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

  Kristie and some other moms have their heads together, pretending not to look at me, and I swear I can see the question marks in their eyes.

  With a loud sigh, he shakes his head. “Okay, come with me. This is going to stop right now.” He grabs my hand, tugs me to the grill. “Hey, Mike. Do me a favor and man the grill for a bit? I need to take care of something.”

  “Sure, man.” Mike, a bald guy with a goatee, grabs his beer and picks up the giant fork.

  “Grace, would you and Ian wait for me inside? I’ll be right there.”

  I exchange a glance with Ian and nod. We step through the sliding door, sit awkwardly on the family room sofa. He adjusts his position with a wince, and I grab a few throw pillows and stuff them behind his back. “Better?”

  He shrugs. We sit silently, my knees bouncing until Ian puts a soothing hand over one. A minute goes by, then two. Then the door opens with a soft swish.

  “Kirk, I don’t see why we—”

  “Humor me.”

  Dad and Kristie step into the room, his hand at her back, practically pushing her along. She nods once. “Grace.”

  “Kristie.”

  Dad ushers Kristie to the love seat, then drags a chair over to sit between us, leaning over his knees. “Honey, Grace says you told her not to come today.”

  “What?” Kristie feigns surprise. “Oh, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  Here we go. “Bullshit—” I am ready to brawl, but Ian squeezes my knee hard.

  “Grace.”

  “Dad, Kristie called me and said the petting zoo people double-booked and there’d be no party. She was just going to do something informal after school one day, and I should make other plans.” This is hopeless. A complete and total waste of time. He’ll just believe her, defend her like he always does.

  “Kirk, that’s not—”

  “It is, Kristie. I heard you.” Dad cuts her off. Kristie just deflates like a stuck balloon, speechless. “I was in the garage when you were on the phone. I didn’t say anything because I know why you did it.”

  He reaches over to squeeze her hand, and my heart pinches hard enough to make me gasp. I catch Ian’s eyes, jerk my head. It’s time to leave. It’s never been clearer that I don’t belong in my dad’s rebooted life. I don’t have a K in my name, and I look terrible in sweater sets. But Kristie looks at me for the first time since she entered the room. “Grace, I’m sorry I lied to you, but you don’t understand how sick and…and well, tortured your father has been since you were assaulted.”

  “Tortured,” I repeat, numb. I don’t understand. He hasn’t said anything to me about it except to criticize my outfits.

  “Kristie, I—”

  “No, Kirk. She needs to know.” Kristie puts up a hand to stop Dad but keeps her eyes on mine. “He isn’t sleeping. He’s been sick. I found him hiding in the garage, sobbing.”

  “Over me?” I still don’t understand. I reach for Ian, and he takes my hand, holds it in both of his. I swing my gaze to Dad. “But you blamed me.”

  His mouth falls open to deny, but he can’t because it’s pure truth and he knows it. “Oh, God, I did, and I’m sorry for that, Grace. I know it’s not your fault. I know that.” He spills out of his chair, kneels on the floor in front of me, snatches my hand from Ian’s, grips it hard. “It was my fault, Gracie. Mine. I wasn’t there. I haven’t been there for a long time.” He stares at me and I see the regret in his eyes, but what the hell good is regret? I wish I could just hold up my arms up so he could scoop me up and lift me high where I always felt safe and adored, and I can’t because those days are long gone and we both know it.

  “You couldn’t even look at me.” My voice cracks.

  “You’re right, Grace. I couldn’t look at you. But not because I’m ashamed of you or the way you dress. It’s because there’s so much pain in your eyes, honey. When Keith has a nightmare or Kody gets a bump, I can kiss them, give them a hug, and tell them everything’s gonna be fine. But this—Grace, I don’t know how to fix this. There’s nothing I can do to make you better, and that kills me, Grace. It kills me.” He clutches both of my hands in his, and I feel them shake.

  It’s a long time before I can talk. “That’s not true,” I finally say. “You can tell me you still love me and nothing will ever change that—not Kristie, not the boys, not the way I dress, and not this.”

  His eyes, the same as mine, widen behind his glasses. “Did you…do you—oh, honey, please tell me you don’t think I stopped loving you.”

  I shrug. I can’t because that’s exactly what I think and what I’ve been thinking for a really long time. How could I not? I’ve been replaced.

  My dad makes an odd choking noise, and suddenly he’s hauling me up and into his arms. “No. Aw, no, no, baby, no. I have loved you since the second I learned there’d be a you, the very second.”

  Pretty words, but actions speak louder. I try to make him understand, but the lump in my throat is makes it damn hard to talk. “Dad, come on. You criticize everything about me from my clothes to my grades to my college plans. I’m not allowed over here without an appointment. You coach soccer and coordinate vacations, and I get a five-minute phone call once a week. I was even uninvited to the party today. I don’t matter anymore, so what am I supposed to think?”

  He lets go of me, sinks to the sofa, looking beaten. “You do matter. You always have and always will.” He turns to Kristie, sitting with her head down and her eyes wet. “And you’re right. A phone call once a week makes me a…well, a telemarketer, not a dad. We’ll spend more time together—just you and me.” He sends Kristie a look full of meaning, and I snort. He’s never defended me to Kristie, not in all the years they’ve been together.

  Kristie
looks from him to me and swallows. “Grace, I know you hate me. I’m not going to make excuses for what’s already happened. But I really love your dad, and I know you do too. For his sake, can we start over?” She manages half a smile and extends her hand.

  Can I do this? Just forgive all the crap that’s happened? I stare at my hand, imagine every frown, every criticism, every hurt feeling slip through my fingers like grains of sand. When it’s empty, I take her hand. “Okay, we can try, starting with no more trying to change how I dress.” I tug at my sweater. “I really hate cardigans. And pink.”

  Her eyes widen, and then she grins a watery smile. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” Kristie runs up the stairs. I shoot a questioning look at Dad, but he just shrugs. A minute later she runs back down the stairs, carrying a shopping bag. “I bought you this weeks ago but was afraid to give it to you because I didn’t want to upset your dad.”

  I open the bag, pull out a black T-shirt. The collar and sleeves are fastened by metal rings all the way around. It’s perfect. “Why give it to me now?”

  “It’s your style, Grace. You own it,” she says with a little shrug of apology directed at my dad.

  “This is awesome. Thanks.”

  “Good, can I borrow this? I really love it.” She runs a hand over my sweater, and we laugh a real laugh, the first time that’s happened since dance class all those years ago.

  Dad wraps us both in a hug. “I love you. I love you both so much.” We stand like that for a long moment, and then he pulls away, wiping his eyes. “We should get back.” He takes Kristie’s hand, holds out his other hand to me.

  “I need a minute,” I tell him. They smile and leave us.

  Ian gives me a slow clap and then opens his arms for me. I move into him, hold him—not too tight. I let it all go—every last bit of resentment. “You ready to head back out there now?” he asks after a long hug and a kiss to my forehead that still makes my knees weak.

  “Almost.” I shrug off my cardigan, slip Kristie’s new T-shirt over the other half of my twinset, and rip off the price tag. “There. Now I’m ready.”

  Ian’s gaze runs up and down over my body. “Nice. Might look better without the pink sweater under it.”