Sell Out

by Tammy L. Gray

  “Sir, I’ve dispatched an ambulance. Can you tell me if she’s breathing?”

  I dropped the pills and pressed my fingers to her mouth. A small brush of air tickled the skin. “Yes. But her pulse is weak, and she’s not waking up.”

  “Can you tell how many pills she took?”

  I dropped to the floor, fumbled around for the bottle. “Um. Ten milligrams each. It says there were thirty pills, but I don’t know how many she actually swallowed.”

  The operator clicked on her computer, asked more question about dates and refills. My hand alternated between the bottle and checking Lindsay’s dropping pulse.

  “How much longer?” I demanded. The breath that was such a relief had all but vanished. I was losing her.

  Sirens filled the air in the distance, promise stirring with each sound. I ran down the stairs and opened the front door just as the medics pulled to the curb.

  They rushed past, followed my pointed finger and verbal directions. They had Lindsay out the door in minutes, a bag pushing oxygen into her lungs.

  I stood at the entry, watching them rush to load her in the back of the ambulance, and fell to my knees. I prayed the prayer Skylar probably had a million times. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for God to spare her life, even though she chose to end it.

  SKYLAR

  I’d spent too many hours in a hospital like this, watching my father fight cancer the first time. The floor was the same. Cold, sterile, unfeeling.

  The difference, though, was the boy sitting alone with his head in his hands. The boy who’d taken on someone else’s pain and now sat drenched in the agony of it. The boy, who because of that very thing, was the person I was falling in love with.

  I gripped the metal arm and lowered myself into an empty chair.

  Cody didn’t look up, but his hand reached out, took mine and held on as if letting go would end the world.

  “What are they saying?” Cody hadn’t given details on the phone. Just told me what and where before hanging up.

  “Nothing. They asked me a bunch of questions, then said I couldn’t see her.” There was a catch in his voice, as if he’d swallowed a sea of tears since being here.

  “I should have told Principal Rayburn sooner.” He hid his face, but his grip tightened. “I tried to fix it. Tried to be enough and I wasn’t.”

  A tear fell on our joined fingers and then another. I scooted closer, laid my head on his shoulder. He was dressed for our date and the stiff dress shirt felt scratchy against my cheek. “What happened to Lindsay isn’t your fault.”

  He shook his head. “Matt told me. He knew somehow.”

  “Told you what?”

  Another drop. “That I couldn’t save her.”

  I pulled away my hand and wrapped my arms around him. He fell into me, gripping my back and smashing me next to his chest. His head buried in the curve of my neck, he mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

  Caressing his hair, I whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

  He released me slowly, keeping his head down until he’d wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “Let’s go. I can’t be here any more.”

  CODY

  The hospital exit felt further away with every step. I gripped Skylar’s hand, let her strength pour into me. Her father had died only weeks ago, and yet she was here. I’d never deserve her.

  The mechanical doors slid closed behind us, and I immediately spotted Lindsay’s parents off to the side. Their whispered accusations bounced off the brick walls and concrete sidewalk.

  “They were your pills,” her father said. His suit coat was unbuttoned, his tie loose and crooked. He looked tired, weary and ticked off.

  “I didn’t stuff them down her throat.” Her mother’s tone was as stiff as her posture.

  “You should have listened. She tried to talk to you. To tell you she was hurting.” Worry marred her father’s face. He touched his temples, pressed and circled.

  “I don’t recall you jumping in to save her either.” The bite in her tone was intended to sting.

  His arm lifted in exasperation. “Because you accuse me of babying her every time I do!”

  I cleared my throat. They owed Lindsay more than this. They should be at her side, not fighting with each other.

  Her mom spun around and suddenly the tough, hostile exterior crumbled. “Hi, Cody. Are you leaving?”

  We’d met earlier and I’d given the same report to her that I had to the doctor.

  “Yeah.” My throat ached to pour out my own string of accusations. Why didn’t you believe her? Why didn’t you support her?

  She pulled me toward her like my dad had once when he’d lost me at the mall. “Thank you for finding her.” She was little, like her daughter, but her grip threatened the circulation in my arms.

  Skylar’s hand disappeared.

  “How is she?” I eyed her father, who immediately stalked back inside.

  That’s right, you jerk. Walk away, just like you did before.

  My heart hammered against my chest. I couldn’t move, and the hypocrisy of being mauled by Lindsay’s neglectful mom only fueled my fury.

  She finally let go and wiped away black smudges under her eyes. “She’s pretty out of it right now but, don’t worry, they say she’s going to be just fine.” With a final squeeze, she left in the same direction as her husband, never once acknowledging that she practically pushed the bottle into Lindsay’s hand.

  I rested my forehead on the cool brick and the heat from Skylar’s hand singed my back.

  “I need to get out of here,” I said. “I’m too angry. Angry at her. At Blake. At her parents.”

  “Okay. We’ll go back to my house.”

  I was trembling. Nauseous. Flushed. “No. I have to go…somewhere else.” I backed away. “I’ll walk you to your car. Follow you home. I just….” The air was choking me. I paced. I had to move. Had to fight, do something. The pain overwhelmed my senses. My vision blurred until two hands held my cheeks.

  “Cody, my car is right over there. I can get home just fine.”

  I sucked in two deep breaths. “You’re sure? Absolutely sure? I will not leave you here if you’re not.”

  Her voice was the only sound holding me together. “I’m sure. Go.”

  I flew through the parking lot, stumbling more than stepping, whipping around cars, pushing myself faster and harder. Hoping the rush would stop the fury that had an iron-tight grip on my insides.

  I never had a sibling, but what Lindsay and I shared created a bond as tight as family. I wouldn’t let this go unpunished. No matter what I had to do.

  A sharp sting assaulted my chest. It wasn’t from the running, but the screams of Fatty James that couldn’t be silenced this time. The injustice of seeing yet another victim of cruelty and abuse.

  Like me, Lindsay would never be the same. Today was the final break. I could see it in the vastness of her surrender.

  I put my truck in drive and beat on the steering wheel. I needed the contact. Needed to find Blake and end him. But I couldn’t do it like this.

  On instinct, I whipped a U-turn at a stoplight, the sound of rubber against asphalt matching my urgency.

  The Storm. Apocalypse. A release.

  Then I’d find Blake and rip him apart until his body looked as broken as Lindsay’s.

  *

  The Storm was scarier at night, even with dusk only an hour behind us. The pothole-ridden lot jarred my truck as I sped toward the building. Matt’s bike was still there along with an old Camry whose hood didn’t match the rest of the car.

  My eyes narrowed at the sedan. I wondered if the engine was as jacked as the paint job, or, if like all of us, the outside was only a sad reflection of what fell below the surface. It didn’t matter. People saw what they saw. Did what they did. To hell with the collateral damage like Lindsay and me.

  I pushed through the glass doors with such force that the handle banged the wall. Matt was in street clothes. No doubt finished for the
night and heading home to be with his wife. I didn’t care.

  “I need Apocalypse. Now.” My voice trembled more than my hands.

  Matt glanced at the blond guy behind the counter.

  “It’s open,” the kid said, looking between the two of us like Matt would somehow calm the hurricane in my eyes.

  I didn’t wait for an okay. Just headed straight down the hallway, past the two guys pounding each other in the ring and pushed open the door.

  Seconds later, I was the one pounding. My shirt gone, music blaring, I sent fist after fist into the bag. I kept waiting for the violence to make me feel better, for it to take away the pain in my chest and the memories that flooded my mind.

  Fatty James. We know you’re in here.

  I hit harder, faster.

  Wow, Fatty, you’re a whole lot of man, aren’t you?

  There wasn’t enough volume to drown out the noise in my head. Wasn’t enough strength behind my fists to stop the gut-punch I felt with each word. I wasn’t fatigued enough to block the hopelessness I swore I’d never feel again.

  I faltered, my arms dropping to my sides. The tape across my hands was torn and red from the splotches of blood. I tried to lift them again, ignoring the protest of my bruised and cracked knuckles. Five more punches, five more attempts to forget, and then I swayed.

  Reaching out, I gripped the bag for stability, my heart now a dull thud in my chest.

  I spotted movement in the doorway.

  Matt was there. Arms folded, watching, waiting. His expression was blank, but seeing him made me feel safe. He represented all I had achieved over the past year and a half. He took a step forward and clicked off the screech of heavy-metal rock exploding through the speakers. “You ready to move on from this?”

  His words knocked me back. “I thought I already had.” I dropped my gaze, studied the way my shoelaces looped though each hole of my sneakers.

  He took another step in my direction. His movements were slow and careful, like a man two seconds from wrestling a bear. “You can slam that bag until every inch of skin is gone, but it’s not going to help you move forward.” He spoke with gentleness and understanding, like he’d been in my shoes before. Like he’d faced the same demons.

  “Then how?” I begged more than I demanded.

  “You’ve got to get control of your mind, Cody. Ignoring or blocking out the past may work in the short term, but eventually, the pain always surfaces. Trust me. I know this first hand.” He looked at my chest, his gaze following the line of my new definition until it settled on my face. “You’ve transformed your body. But that won’t make any difference until you’re ready to transform your mind and your emotions.”

  I put my forehead to the bag, unwilling to look into eyes that could peel away every shield I’d learned to use. “When I think about it, I hurt. And when I hurt, it makes me angry and bitter.” Gruff and barely audible, my words hung in the air.

  Matt’s hand was on my shoulder, offering me strength and comfort. “I know. And it may always hurt. You may always struggle. But until you let go, you will never struggle in a healthy way. You will never find healing. Or forgiveness.”

  I hardened to a statue. “I’ll never forgive them.”

  “Then you’ll never really be free.” Matt’s voice stung like acid dripping on my skin.

  I gripped the bag tighter, hit my head against the slick leather twice before the first round of sobs descended on me. They sounded a lot like the sobs I’d released on the gym floor two years ago. But today they were different. Today they meant grief. Every tear for the boy who wouldn’t stop haunting me. “I’m so tired of being weak.”

  Matt moved closer. “You have it backwards. Forgiveness is strength, not weakness. Letting go means giving up your rage. It means allowing yourself and the other person to have grace. It means giving up the hate and facing the pain of what you went through. Because only then, will you truly find peace.”

  I stared at the man I considered my hero. Forgiveness. The word ricocheted within me like a bullet. “Where do I even start?”

  “You start by telling the truth. To yourself. To the people you love. You stop thinking you can do this on your own and let others support you. And, most importantly, you rely on the author of strength to overcome your pain. God tells us that in the world, we will have tribulation, but in Him, there is peace, because He overcame the world.” Matt pulled me into an embrace that was as crushing as it was liberating.

  I held on like a man drowning.

  “You’re not alone, Cody. You’re never, ever alone.”

  SKYLAR

  I stopped by Veteran’s Park on the way home from the hospital, no more eager to return to my empty house than I was to face the choices in front of me.

  The swing moved and twisted as I kicked at the dirt. So many decisions to be made. So many that Aunt Josephine had two pages of legal-sized notebook paper attached to my fridge. But nothing on that list was as daunting as the thick envelope sitting on my kitchen table.

  ESMOD. I’d been accepted. Early admission too, which had my father’s scent all over it. Even from the grave, he was telling me to live my dream. Somehow, though, over four short months, my dream had morphed and dissolved. And now I was floundering with no direction and no purpose.

  My iPhone vibrated in my back pocket. It was a text from Henry asking me to meet him at his house. Strange. We hadn’t really talked much in the last few weeks. He called after the media broke the story and then when my father died, but that was it.

  Henry waited on his porch while I pulled in the drive, his hands shoved into the pockets of his designer jeans. His short-sleeved Henley was tight, showing a splash of muscles that hadn’t existed before. He was still skinny and wiry, but long gone was the awkward nerd I met on the first day.

  I locked my car and approached him. “Hey, what’s up?”

  He wouldn’t make eye contact, and his foot tapped on the wood porch like he was listening to techno music in his head. “Have you heard about Lindsay?”

  “Yes. I just came from the hospital.”

  His head jerked up, fear flashing in his eyes. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “She’s going to recover.” But it would probably take years and lots of counseling before she was truly okay.

  He closed his eyes and nodded vigorously. “Good. That’s good.”

  I took a step forward. “Henry, what’s going on?”

  “I know things. Things I wish I didn’t. Things I shouldn’t know.” He sank into a white, wicker couch and stared at his feet. “It’s not Cody in the video.”

  “I know that.” It surprised me how easily I believed Cody when he told me, but I did. We’d overcome the drama of secrets and miscommunication.

  He was slow in meeting my eyes. “Did Cody tell you what I did?”

  A chill raced down my arm. Maybe we hadn’t moved past the secrets. “No. What did you do?”

  He fidgeted and tugged on his earlobe. “Nothing. Just…nothing.”

  “Henry, you’re not making any sense, and you’re starting to freak me out. Just tell me what’s going on.” My tolerance level was miniscule. There’d been too much tragedy in a very short period of time.

  “Wait here.” He sprung up and with two decisive strides disappeared behind the front door. Two minutes later, he emerged with a silver laptop in his hand. He sat. Motioned for me to sit next to him. “Do you remember my accident?”

  I lowered myself slowly, taking the open space on the couch. “You mean when a bunch of guys at school jumped you?”

  He sighed. “Yeah.” His computer showed several open windows with file icons everywhere. “I hacked a certain king’s computer that night for proof, but found something far worse. I downloaded the file from his hard drive thinking I could use it to protect myself, but then everything changed at school. Got better, you know. Blake invited me to lunch. I met Cynthia, and she liked my quirkiness.”

  I patted his leg. At least one person this y
ear had a happy ending. “I’m glad, Henry.”

  His eyes met mine, and that look was there again. Remorse, guilt, shame. “I should have turned it in. But I liked being at the head table. I liked having places to go on the weekends. I’ve been a narc before, and the backlash was insane. I knew if I told, it would be my final act of treason.”

  He pulled up a video, and the arrow hovered over the play button. “Skylar. I won’t be the one to turn this in. Not only did I get to it illegally, but I just won’t go there again. If you want it, though, I’ll give it to you.”

  My head was swimming. Henry’s words made no sense. “Why would I want it?”

  He clicked play. “You’ll see.”

  The video was black for few seconds, with only the audio booming snickers and muffled laughter. Then, out of nowhere, Blake’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Fatty James, Take One.” He pretended to be clapping a scene marker like in the movies.

  “Hush. He’s in there. Jill just told me so.”

  The camera did a three-sixty until it was facing forward, Blake’s repressed laugher still being the loudest audio indicating he was the videographer.

  “Fatty James, We know you came in here.”

  “Oh, my God.” My hands flew to my mouth as the camera zeroed in on a pair of sneakers peeking out between the lockers.

  A dark-haired guy in a letterman jacket crouched down, rested his hands on his knees. The camera made a horrifying visual zoom in.

  “Now, now, what do we have here? A whale stuck in a hole.” He made a “tsk” sound and looked toward the camera. “Boys, we need to help Fatty James.”

  The screen jumped and jumbled, shadows moving in front of the camera. Blake must have backed away and come around from a different angle.

  My heart stopped. They had Cody pinned to the ground. He looked so different, it was hard to believe it was the same person, but I knew. Because for the first time, I could see the image that still haunted him.

  Cody struggled and kicked until the ringleader slammed a fist into his face.