He might not run, but I wanted to. “I found my mom and sister.” I sucked in a ragged breath. “They weren’t breathing. They were covered in blood. Someone broke into our home and killed them. Now certain things can trigger a panic attack.”
“Like the dark house,” he said softly.
I nodded. “And Renee was a trigger yesterday. She looks like my sister with the color of her hair and eyes, but when she smiles the resemblance between her and Julie is uncanny.”
“Are there any others, baby?”
“I’m not sure I could handle seeing a lot of blood, not after that night.” I could’ve gone into more detail about what their bodies looked like, how I slipped in the blood and fell on top of Julie. But just picturing the scene caused the small buzzing sound to surface in my head. I didn’t want to risk a panic attack.
He lifted me onto his lap again, and a tidal wave of emotions poured out—sadness, anger, pain, grief. I buried my head in the crook of his neck and cried.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered between sobs. It was the first time I said all that out loud to someone other than a doctor and the police. I hadn’t told my dad or my brother what I saw that night. They knew it was hard for me, and they didn’t want to hear the details. By the time Dad had gotten to the scene, the police had already covered the bodies.
He rubbed my back. “I’m not going anywhere,” he breathed with conviction.
I held him tightly, crying harder than I ever had in front of someone else. Sure, I’d broken down at the funeral, but not like this. Maybe it was the strength in his arms, in his words. No matter what, I didn’t want to let go of him.
I sat in homeroom daydreaming of Kade and the time we’d spent together. After I sobbed until my nose was raw and shared my triggers, I told him what I’d been like after the funeral. The conversation was quite cathartic for me. He’d been wonderful as he listened and held me. Throughout that evening, I started to get a glimpse of just how serious he was about me. Love blazed in his eyes. His tender kisses and gentle caresses warmed my soul.
The speaker in homeroom crackled, severing my trip down memory lane. “Ms. Vander, please send Lacey Robinson to Coach Dean’s office,” the lady’s voice blared.
What did Coach want? He’d talked to Dad. Maybe he wanted to ask me questions about my locker since I didn’t get a chance to talk to him after tryouts. Or maybe he found the responsible party. Or maybe Principal Sanders and Coach decided not to let girls try out since they’d had problems with the baseball team bullying Mandy. My stomach churned as my throat went dry.
Ms. Vander peered over her reading glasses. “Ms. Robinson, you may be excused.” She wrote something on a slip of paper and stuck out her hand.
I guess that was my cue to get out of my seat.
The noise picked up in the cold classroom as students talked and whispered. I’d been getting weird looks from kids since I walked into school this morning. I wasn’t surprised—it was typical of my high school experience.
On my way to her desk, I accidentally bumped into a boy in the first row.
“Watch out, freak,” he barked.
I froze, standing next to him. A buzzing sound filled my ears. Keep walking. He’s not worth your time. I released my breath, and the blood cooled. Reluctantly, I continued to Ms. Vander’s outstretched hand when all I itched to do was to beat the boy senseless. I quickly snatched the note from her and stormed out.
Once in the hall, I imagined me banging my head against a locker a few times. Freak was simply a word. Right?
So why did the term seep into my psyche, making me go ballistic?
Stuffing my ire into my back pocket, I trudged through the school and over to the sports complex. A few boys lingered outside Coach Dean’s office. When they glanced up from their conversation and saw me, they scattered. I laughed, my voice bouncing off the walls. Were they afraid of me? At least they ran rather than calling me a nut case.
All my speculation on why he wanted to see me went out the window as I knocked on Coach Dean’s open door. I was suddenly embarrassed. He’d told me I was a good pitcher. My performance yesterday was anything but good.
“Ah, Lacey. Come in,” he said in a sweet fatherly voice. “Have a seat.”
What was up with the tender tone? Cautious of his intentions, I slouched in.
“Please, sit.” He waved a hand to one of the chairs.
“I’ll stand, Coach.”
“Lacey, I’m not going to read you the riot act.”
I dragged my gaze over his face. He’d trimmed his bushy eyebrows. Or maybe the bill of the ball cap he was wearing shadowed his features.
“I’d rather not have to look up,” he said, removing his hat, smoothing a hand over his head.
Shrugging out of my backpack, I set the heavy bag on the floor and dropped into a chair. The last thing I wanted was to get on his bad side. He’d told Dad the second round of tryouts was postponed. The doctor said I should be fine to resume physical activity in a couple of days.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m better.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened at tryouts?”
“Coach, I’m sorry. When I found that my bag was missing, I panicked. Then on the field I was nervous.” My gaze flickered past him to the diploma on the wall. Coach had graduated from University of North Carolina at Charlotte, with a degree in athletic training.
“Let’s talk about your nervousness, first. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know when someone is nervous. And something else is going on with you. Now, if you don’t want to talk about it, I can accept that. But I need to know you’re healthy, and you won’t put yourself or anyone else at risk out on the field.”
“Did I hurt anyone?” I asked, sitting up taller. Oh, God. Did I hit Renee with my pitch?
“No,” he said. “But the risk is there.”
I lowered my shoulders. “Aside from my mild concussion, I’m healthy, Coach. I hadn’t eaten a whole lot that day.” I couldn’t tell him the real reason. I was frightened he wouldn’t consider me for the team, especially now after my blackout.
He studied me for a second. “Very well. I expect a better performance during the second round, which I’ve postponed until next Friday. As far as your locker incident, it’s clear someone broke into it. I’m still questioning people. Has anyone confronted you about not trying out for the team?” He leaned forward on his desk.
My jaw dropped slightly. I closed it quickly, hoping he didn’t read the truth on my face. I wanted to put Aaron in his place, but ratting him out wasn’t the answer. He would only increase his tormenting. Besides, I wanted solid proof before I hanged him, and it had to be more than “he said, she said.” I needed a witness. “Only Principal Sanders. Why?” I bounced my knee up and down.
“Trying to cover all the angles on your locker incident,” he said.
“May I be excused?” The longer I stood here the more he would figure out I was lying.
“I want you to rest this weekend. No pitching, running, or practicing. Complete rest. Is that understood?” He pushed to his feet, the chair behind him rolling backwards.
“No problem. The doctor said the same, anyway.”
He escorted me to the door. “I’m here if you ever need to talk.”
“Thank you, Coach.” I hurried out of his office before I did spill my guts to him. At the moment, his expression reminded me of Mary’s. Anytime she wanted to draw something out of me all she had to do was look at me with her soft brown eyes and her head tilted slightly. It was as though she’d cast a tell-me-what’s-bothering-you spell.
A lawn mower whirred as I crossed the area between the sports complex and the main building. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air. Closing my eyes for a second, I inhaled, loving the sme
ll. When I opened them, Tammy Reese was walking toward me with Grace Edison on her arm, giggling. Great! Behind them Aaron Seevers and Mark Wayland, the catcher, were deep in conversation. Maybe I could get by without them noticing me, and maybe cockroaches would come out of my butt.
Grace lifted her gaze then hit Tammy on the arm. Both stopped in their tracks a few feet from me. Aaron and Mark plowed into them. Grace’s purse fell to the ground. Tammy took a few extra steps, trying not to fall. Both girls were saved when Aaron latched onto Tammy and Mark caught Grace.
I laughed. No one had ever tripped over the sight of me. Okay, I was being a little sarcastic. But it was funny. I moseyed past them while Grace struggled to untangle herself from Mark. Tammy, well, she wasn’t in any hurry to leave the strong arms of Aaron. After seeing them in the hall the other day, it didn’t shock me. I’d just made it to the door of the school when someone clapped. Don’t turn around. Ignore it. I glanced behind me. So much for listening to my inner voice.
“Are you going to pass out again next week?” Aaron asked in a snide tone.
I swept my gaze over each of them. Tammy had a smirk on her face as though she was the happiest girl alive. I couldn’t tell if Aaron was the reason since he had his arm around her waist. Or maybe she was stoked that I’d screwed up. Either way, my fist twitched with the need to punch her, and I stepped in her direction.
“Oooh, please do, skank. I would love to see you fall again.”
“Come on, man,” Mark said to Aaron. “Let’s go. We’re late to meet Coach.” Mark gave me an I’m-sorry look.
Grace played with her ponytail as she stood there not saying a word. I glared at her, and she dropped her chocolate-brown gaze. Odd. Usually, she wasn’t easily intimidated. At least, not since I’d met her.
I pivoted on my heel.
“Where are you going?” Tammy sing-songed in a snarky tone. “You don’t like our company? Oh, I know, you prefer your shrink’s instead.”
Ice flooded my veins as I clutched the metal door handle so hard that pain radiated up my arm. Daylight turned to nighttime as though a black cloud covered the sun. A hissing sound exploded in my head. I couldn’t tell if the lawn mower had gotten closer, or my brain was erupting.
Tammy’s laughter broke through the haze. I sprang into the air like a lion about to catch her prey. My backpack dropped from my shoulder as I tackled Tammy to the ground. We rolled around as she kicked violently until I pinned her in place.
Grace screamed.
“Lacey, stop,” Mark said as he yanked at my jacket.
She squirmed under me until her body broke free and she pushed. I fell off her, my head bouncing on the edge of the grass. Oh, no. My concussion. What the heck was I thinking? Her arm shot out. A large hand grasped her by the wrist.
“What’s going on here?” Coach Dean asked. He must’ve run up from the sports complex. His lips flattened. His eyes narrowed.
All the blood drained from me—relief and fear mingling together.
“Aaron. Mark. Get your butts back to class,” Coach Dean ordered. “We’ll talk later. Grace, you too. Get back to class.”
The three of them hesitated for a split second before scurrying into the school.
Coach extended his hand. I took it, holding my head in one hand as he helped me up. I winced. My head suddenly hurt, even though the whirring noise was gone. Stupid. Stupid. Completely dumb of me to have lashed out at Tammy with a concussion.
“Now, let’s go see Principal Sanders,” he said in a tone that permitted no argument. “Or do you need to see the nurse first, Lacey?” He gentled his voice.
“What?” Tammy all but shrieked. “You’re being nice to her? Maybe I need to see the nurse. She did punch me.” She ran a hand through her messy hair.
“Ms. Reese, clam it. You’ve caused enough trouble in your time here,” Coach snapped. “When any new girl comes into this school, you feel it’s your duty to belittle them.”
“I’m good, Coach,” I said as I brushed the dirt off my jeans before retrieving my backpack. All I needed was to get the hell out of here. You’re regressing. Continual anger will not move you toward your goal of baseball.
“Let’s go then,” Coach said.
Tammy and I walked into the school as the bell rang. Doors swung open, students spilled from classrooms and voices filled the halls.
“Keep walking,” Coach commanded.
Stares and glares were pinned on us as kids stopped in their tracks to let us by. Maybe since Tammy had grass in her hair and a scowl on her face. Plus Coach walked between us like he was our bodyguard. It was as though the red carpet had been rolled out for us at a Hollywood premier. Rounding a corner, we came face to face with Kade.
“What’s going on?” he asked, swinging his gaze from me to Coach.
“Nothing.” This wasn’t the time to explain the situation to him.
Kids were leaning against their lockers, ogling.
“Bullshit. You beat the crap out of me,” Tammy whined. “Why are you dating her? She sees a shrink.”
I stifled a gasp. How did she know?
Kade narrowed his eyes, glaring daggers at Tammy as a muscle ticked along his jaw. “What are you talking about?” he asked, furious.
“Haven’t you heard the good news?” she taunted. “Your girlfriend is cuckoo.” She twirled her forefinger around her temple.
Whispers zipped through hall. I cringed, digging my nails into my palms. My worst nightmare, come true. Adrenaline powered through my body as I pressed my fists into my legs. Don’t show them it’s true. The more you show something bothers you, the more bullies will pounce. I rolled my shoulders back, unclenching my fists.
“Yeah. Who told you that?” His voice dropped as anger flared off him.
“Kade, you need to get to class,” Coach said.
“Answer the question, Tammy.” Kade ignored Coach and stepped closer to her.
Yesterday, I’d doubted Kade until I’d learned he lied for me when people asked how I was doing. Plus by the time he left my house last night, any distrust I had about him was gone. So how did Tammy find out? Kody was the only other person who knew I saw a shrink.
“Kade, please. You can’t like her,” she whined.
“That’s enough, Kade. Girls, move,” Coach ordered.
Students darted into classrooms. The warning bell rang.
“Can I have a word with Lacey?” Kade asked Coach.
“No,” he said emphatically. “You can talk to her later.”
“Go,” I urged Kade. “I’ll meet you at lunch.” There was no need for him to get into trouble.
Snatching his phone from his back pocket, he stalked off. We walked into the admin office, bypassing Barb, who was sitting behind the counter engrossed in her computer screen.
Coach stuck his head into Ms. Sander’s office. “Got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure, Coach,” she said.
“In, both of you.” He nodded to Tammy and me.
We shuffled over the threshold as though we’d both lost our motor skills. Maybe it was the onset of a headache causing me to slow my pace.
“What’s this all about?” Principal Sanders rose from her chair, surprise etched on her pretty face.
“Go.” Coach urged, lightly touching my back.
I moved closer to the polished desk. Reluctantly, Tammy followed.
Coach proceeded to explain how he’d found us fighting outside. Tammy and I didn’t say a word. When Coach finished, the principal circled her desk, heels clicking on the tile floor. Crossing her arms over her chest, she took our measure with her silvery eyes.
“So, Ms. Reese,” she said. “How many times are you going to be in my office this year?” One manicured eyebrow arched up.
Tammy stared straight
ahead, mouth not moving.
“I gave you one too many strikes last year.” The other eyebrow lifted. “But I’m not going to be as gracious this time. This is strike one for you, Ms. Reese. Two more and you’ll be expelled. I am not tolerating any of this I-own-this-school attitude from you, young lady. Are we clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tammy said evenly, not meeting her gaze.
“Good. Get back to class,” the principal ordered.
Tammy made haste, sneering at me as she left the room.
“Now, Ms. Robinson.” She dropped her arms, palms on her desk. “We had this conversation only two weeks ago about behaving. Did we not?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as my eyes met hers.
“I know firsthand that a death of a loved one can be hard, but you can’t walk into this school rebelling, the way you did at your last.”
My eyes widened. How did she know? Did Dad tell her during their conversation on the first day?
“Yes, young lady. I’ve spoken to the principal of Crestview.”
Why was she checking up on me? Did schools do that for all new kids? Did the whole school know about my past? What else did she know?
“I’ll give you a first warning. Three strikes. That’s it. Oh, and if you make the team, I will leave your punishment for Coach Dean. Understood?”
Did all schools have the three-strike rule? Back at Crestview I’d been given three chances, too, only I’d used all my strikes for the same reason I was standing in her office now. “Yes, ma’am.” Was her threat supposed to scare me? If so, it worked. I wasn’t excited about the possibility of Coach doling out punishments—primarily because he would be instrumental in talking to the scouts of ASU if I made the team.
“Lacey, we’ll talk next week,” Coach added. “Remember what I told you earlier. Rest and relax this weekend.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 23