Finding Valor

by Ripley Proserpina

  It was dark, but the warm, yellow light from the library only made it look more charming.

  “I bet it’s beautiful in the snow, too.” she observed. A cool wind blew, and Ryan flipped up the collar of his peacoat against the cold.

  “You need a scarf. It will complete your look.”

  Smiling, he reached for her hand. “Your hands are like ice. Why didn’t you come inside?” He pulled her down the stairs, leading her to the parking lot.

  “The cold felt good. Cleared out the cobwebs.”

  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let it out. “Yeah. It does, doesn’t it?” Ryan sighed. “I don’t know if they’ll take me off, Nora. There’s this clause—”

  “The morals clause.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It was on the tour. I learned all about Calvin Coolidge and the terms he attached to the mission when he founded the school.” She pulled her hand out of her sleeve so she could chew her nail. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. It was going to catch up to me sometime. I’ve been waiting, to be honest.” His voice gave nothing away. He didn’t sound angry or disappointed but resigned.

  It was like someone stabbed her in the stomach. She owned every word he said because it was her fault.

  “They don’t know everything. How can they judge you so easily? Are they doing background checks on people and holding applicants up to some kind of unattainable standard?”

  They’d reached the car, but he didn’t answer, merely opened the door, waiting for her to get in. As the dome light illuminated the interior, she saw his face when he settled into the driver’s seat. His mouth was tight, and his eyes flashed. “How is being a good person an unattainable standard, Nora?”

  The knife turned in her gut. “I don’t understand,” she said when she could speak again.

  “You can’t,” he snapped and started the car, pulling onto the road leading them to the highway.

  She wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to hold her feelings inside. She didn’t recognize this person. This wasn’t the Ryan who cared for and protected her. This was a stranger walking around with his face and voice.

  All of them were living in a dream. For the first time, the reality of a life with her and all the preconceptions people made about her was glaringly obvious.

  CCSL thought she had some part in killing innocent high school kids and held it against him. Ryan’s representation of her kept him out of law school, or waitlisted at the very least.

  Wait until they learned about the relationship they were in.

  She leaned her head against the cold passenger window, seeing nothing except the occasional flash of a green road sign reflected in the car’s headlights.

  Ryan was quiet. Turned inward, he didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t hold her shoulder or push her hair from her face. He didn’t do any of the things she was used to him doing a million times a day. A wall appeared between them.

  She glanced over at him, but he stared ahead, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. He could have been alone in the car for all the notice he gave her.

  You’re being selfish. This needs to be about Ryan.

  If he needed to ignore her, then she would deal. She wouldn’t push, not yet. She was sure he was raw, but still, this new Ryan frightened her.

  She wanted her old Ryan back.

  Five

  Ryan’s Past

  RYAN SKIPPED DINNER and went right to bed. He couldn’t look at his roommates, and he couldn’t look at Nora who, despite everything, believed him to be a good person.

  Reliving his past with the dean had only brought back the wrong he’d committed. It didn’t matter what he’d done since he put his best friend in prison; what mattered was the fact that Ryan had believed himself so right he’d sent his friend there in the first place.

  Ryan turned off his bedside lamp to lie in the darkness and closed his eyes. What he’d done could never be forgotten.

  * * *

  Five Years Earlier

  FIELD PARTIES WERE a fall tradition, and finding a back forty off some third-class road was the Holy Grail. Ryan had hiked through enough shit-covered fields to know it was worth faking a friendship with Davis, the asshole whose family owned this particular farm.

  He wasn’t the only one who put up with Davis’ douchebaggery. As he lifted a cup to his lips, he observed his best friend. It might be the only reason Beau tolerated Davis as well, though Beau could fake it a whole hell of a lot better than Ryan could.

  The jerk in question was currently grinding on top of a John Deere to a nineties-era country song about sexy tractors. There was every possibility it wasn’t his first time doing this dance.

  “What stick crawled up your butt?” Beau Rice slung an arm around his shoulder, and he caught a whiff of PBR.

  “No stick.” Finishing off the beer, he crushed the cup and stalked over to the coolers to pull out another. He popped the top, downing as much of it as he could, and narrowed his eyes at Davis. “I hate him.”

  Davis jumped off the tractor to the cheers of his classmates and laid a sloppy kiss on Chelsea Vanguard. In response, Ryan chugged the rest of his beer.

  “Ah.” Beau pointed with his can, a waving, circular motion encompassing Davis and the tractor and the woods behind them. “Chelsea jealousy. Dude. She’s a chlamidiot. You’re asking for itchy balls.”

  “Yeah, man.” Ryan smiled. “But those tits.”

  “You’re so gross, Ryan.” Beau’s girlfriend, Ashley, joined them. “My boobs are nicer than hers, right baby?”

  Ashley got really horny when she was drunk. The varsity soccer captain and honor student simply disappeared after a couple of beers. Lucky for Beau, but depressing for anyone watching. Beau placed his beer at his feet and wrapped her in his arms. Ryan looked away; there was altogether too much tongue involved, and he needed another beer.

  Leaving his best friend with his future baby momma to grope each other in the darkness, Ryan returned to the cooler. He dug through the ice and pulled out what was left. Some low-calorie light beer. Gross. But it didn’t matter. Using the bottle opener on his key ring, he opened it and took a slug.

  “Ryan! Oh my god, Ryan!” A flash of blonde hair and the overwhelming scent of raspberries were the only warnings he got before she wrapped her arms and legs around his body.

  The bottle dropped to the ground. “Shit.”

  “Ryan, I am so glad you’re here.”

  With no idea who was doing the octopus impression, he looked over at Beau. “Who is this?”

  Beau covered his mouth, laughing and shaking his head. Ryan jerked his head back, but all he saw was blonde ponytail. What was it with high school girls? Why did they all want to look the same?

  “Oh my God, Ryan. You’re so funny!” The girl blinked at him. Her face wavered for a moment, hazy, and then came back into focus.

  “Oh. Kaylen.” He had a few classes with her, talked to her now and then. She was fine. In a pinch, she’d do—especially if Chelsea was occupied. Squinting toward the tractor, he noticed Davis and Chelsea were gone. Yup, she was occupied.

  Kaylen adjusted herself on him, wrapping her legs a little tighter around his waist before grinding on him. Suddenly, he didn’t mind spilling his beer. His hands went under her ass, holding her up, her face a little above his.

  “I really want to kiss you, Ryan,” she said.

  He didn’t wait. Grabbing the back of her head, he pulled her down to him. She tasted like peach wine coolers and lip gloss. She gave a breathy little moan, and in one moment, his night went from shit to fucking awesome.

  Opening his eyes, he kept his lips on hers as he stumbled toward the trucks. Thank God he’d met Beau here, which meant he didn’t have to worry about his friend knocking on the window and interrupting what he had planned. He tripped on something and barely hung onto Kaylen, who only giggled.

  �
��You saved me,” she breathed and licked his neck.

  He was clumsier when he hurried, but if he didn’t get into her pants, he was going to come in his. At last he found his truck, or at least he thought it was his. He didn’t really care and pressed her up against the door. Snaking her hand between them, Kaylen pushed down his underwear.

  “Hold on,” he murmured. “Hold on.” Her legs dropped from around his waist, her whole body going boneless.

  Groaning, his forehead dropped onto the cold window.

  “All right, man!”

  As he looked up, he nearly fell over. The world spun and twisted. Squinting in the direction he’d heard the voice, he called, “Beau?”

  “We’re out, dude!”

  When had his eyes closed? Trying to pinpoint Beau, he finally located him getting into his tiny, green Civic. Ryan waved, but his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore. Kaylen giggled, and he struggled to stand. The world twirled, and his stomach rebelled.

  There was barely time to turn and heave all over the ground before he was face down in the long, cool grass. Flipping onto his back, he stared at the sky and forgot about everything.

  * * *

  “Ryan! Ryan!”

  Turning over, he waved his father away. “Stop shaking me, Dad. Jesus.”

  His father gripped his shoulders, and he jerked, opening bleary eyes. “Shit.”

  He was still in the field. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, blinking slowly. The field was full of cars and trucks, but along with his friends’ cars were a shit-ton of staties, blue lights flashing.

  Looking around, he saw his father wasn’t the only parent there. There were Davis’ parents and Kaylen being led away by her mother. She looked back at him, giving him a small wave and a watery smile before getting into her mother’s car.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, squinting at his father, his head pounding.

  “There was an accident, Ryan.”

  Forcing himself to his feet by grabbing the mirror on his truck—oh, this isn’t my truck— he steadied himself. “What?”

  “Beau was in an accident.”

  He stared at Dad, trying to make sense of what he’d said. That couldn’t be right. Beau was at the party. Probably still here somewhere… His thoughts trailed off.

  Beau had left; he’d driven away with Ashley.

  His dad placed a hand on his shoulder, staring at him sadly.

  “Dad?” He waited for it, what he knew was coming. Beau was dead. His best friend, the kid he’d dressed up in ninja costumes with, was dead.

  “He’s in the hospital. We don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

  There was hope. If he was in the hospital, he could get better. “Can you take me?”

  “Yeah. But Ryan—” Dad’s eyes were sad and red-rimmed, and he looked older and exhausted. “Ashley died.”

  Ryan’s already nauseated stomach clenched, and he swallowed hard, trying not to vomit. His dad reached for him, embracing him tightly, and for the first time in years, Ryan hugged him back.

  * * *

  They weren’t the only ones at the hospital. Ryan saw his soccer coach. A bunch of kids from the party. Davis and his parents. They hovered around the main entrance, huddled together and whispering. His father led him past the others, into the heart of the hospital toward the ICU.

  “I thought it was you,” Dad whispered as they stepped onto the elevator. “Your mother and I. The phone rang and we both jumped out of bed.”

  The elevator doors opened before Ryan could respond. Then all he wanted was to hide behind his father. Ashley’s family crowded the nurse’s station. Her sister and brother held tight to a woman who must be their grandmother while the older woman cried loudly. The sound echoed through the wing, pounding through his already aching head.

  He stood frozen; he couldn’t move. Tugging his arm, his father tried to pull him forward, but his feet were like lead. “Ry,” he said. “Come on.”

  But he couldn’t look away from Ashley’s sister and brother. The boy didn’t cry. His small, pale face pressed into the woman’s arm, but he watched Ryan walk across the hall to the nurse’s station.

  Ryan wanted to break eye contact, but he couldn’t. Something in the boy’s eyes held him, even though he wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. They were stuck in this nightmare together.

  In that moment, he realized he was part of something that would be the defining moment of this boy’s life. Everything after this would be after. Every holiday, every celebration—graduation, wedding, everything. It would all be a reminder of this day. There would never be something good without everyone in the boy’s life feeling like something was missing. It was supremely unfair, and he couldn’t help feel like it was somehow his fault.

  The headache pounding in his brain seemed to grow along with his anger, both at himself and for Ashley’s brother.

  What had Beau been thinking, driving away from the party? They always camped out. Always. He should have known something was up when he’d driven to the party on his own. If Ryan had only been paying closer attention. Fuck!

  “Ryan?” His father’s voice brought him back to reality.

  “What?”

  “Do you want to wait in the waiting room? It’s where most of Beau’s family is.”

  He shook his head, but he didn’t know. Should he? His presence was an intrusion no matter where he went.

  Dad watched him and then put an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a quick hug. “We’ll find a chair somewhere.”

  “Do you mind if I find some water first?” he asked, rubbing his temple.

  Nodding, Dad reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He shoved a few dollars into Ryan’s hand and pointed past the nurse’s station. “I think there’s a kitchen back there.”

  Taking off, Ryan met the boy’s eyes one more time as he walked by. The grandmother had released Ashley’s brother, and now he stood, arms at his side, lost.

  A tiny kitchen was situated between rooms. There was no vending machine, but there was a stack of tiny paper cups and a sink. Filling a cup again and again, he guzzled the water, trying to wash the sour tastes of beer and throw-up out of his mouth.

  I don’t want to be here. He leaned against the sink, bracing himself with both hands.

  “Ryan Valore?” The commanding tone had him looking up quickly and wishing he’d stayed perfectly still. A state trooper watched him, waiting for Ryan to acknowledge him.

  “Yes?” His voice shook.

  The trooper walked into the kitchen, crowding him and blocking the exit with his tall body.

  “You were with Beau and Ashley at the party last night? Do you know what happened?”

  Ryan shook his head. “All I know is there was an accident.”

  “Your friend’s car hit a tree. Neither he nor Ashley were wearing safety belts, and they were ejected from the car.”

  Shutting his eyes, he rubbed his forehead. Beau. You fucking idiot.

  When he opened his eyes, the trooper was still staring at him. Did he expect Ryan to say something else? Finally, the man went on. “Did you see your friends leave the party?”

  Needing a moment, Ryan turned on the water again, hands trembling as he filled the cup again. He took a sip, spilling some on his shirt and down his chin.

  Everything from last night was hazy. There was Kaylen. The feel of the cold glass on his forehead.

  “We’re out dude!” His mind flashed back to Beau getting into the car and driving away.

  Where was Dad? Why wasn’t he here?

  Taking another gulp of water, he faced the trooper. “I did.”

  “Ryan?” His dad appeared behind the trooper as if Ryan had called him.

  “Mr. Valore, I was asking your son what he remembered from last night.”

  Faced with two dour-faced adults, Ryan’s heart pounded in his chest.

  “Ryan, did you see who was driving?” t
he state trooper asked.

  His dad watched him, but it wasn’t his face Ryan saw. It was Ashley’s brother with his wide, scared eyes. Anger toward Beau coalesced and exploded outward.

  “Yeah.” He met the gaze of the trooper straight on. “I did. It was Beau.”

  After he spoke to the trooper, he didn’t want to stay in the hospital. Suddenly, he didn’t want to know if Beau lived or died. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but Ryan felt like he’d fucked up. Tattled.

  On the ride home, Dad praised him. Told him he was proud of him for telling the truth even though Beau was his best friend. A lot of other things came out of his mouth, but Ryan didn’t hear them.

  All he could concentrate on was the slow bubble of rage welling inside of him. Beau put him in this position. Beau caused all this with his stupid decisions. What a fucking idiot! How long had they been taught not to drink and drive? Hadn’t he sat through the same depressing-as-hell school assembly, listening to the guy who had to send letters for the rest of his life to the family of the girl he’d killed?

  When Dad pulled into their driveway, Mom was out of the house in a second. She must have been waiting for them to arrive. She enfolded him in a hug immediately and tucked her head underneath his chin. She smelled like coffee and something else, something warm and familiar.

  “You okay?”

  Ryan stepped back, running a hand across his forehead. “Yeah. I guess. I’m gonna go to bed.”

  “Of course.” She patted him on the back as he walked inside. Needing to wash away last night’s escapade and the horror of the hospital, he went straight upstairs and into the bathroom.

  The sheets were turned down and the curtains drawn when he got to his bedroom. Seventeen years old, but Mom still got his bed ready. Forcing his feelings about Beau and Ashley down deep, he drew the covers over his head and fell asleep.

  * * *

  The next days and weeks were a blur. He went to school, heard a million different versions of the story, and watched girls huddle in groups and cry loudly. Guys who’d been Beau’s friends as long as him made plans to kick his ass when he got out of the hospital.