OUTCAST: A Good Guys Novel

by Jamie Schlosser

He wouldn’t have run away. He wouldn’t have left me, but he wasn’t in the backyard and the gate was shut.

  Panic overwhelmed me as I tried to think of what to do. I couldn’t lose him; not because he was a service dog, but because he was my friend. We needed each other.

  Suddenly, my phone rang in my pocket and I answered it without looking at the caller.

  “Hello?”

  “Ezra. It’s Jeff.” His tone was urgent. “I’m outside at the frat house. You need to get here now, bro.”

  I didn’t have time for any more of their shit. “There’s nothing you can say to make me come back. I’m sorry. And right now I can’t deal with their drama.”

  “No, you don’t understand. They have your dog.”

  My veins turned to ice. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “Aaron lost the onion challenge, so they dared him to take your dog. They have him here and they’re trying to give him beer. I’m not an animal expert, but that shit isn’t cool.”

  “Motherfuckers.” I was already taking off through the backyard, out the gate, and making a shortcut through the field. Rain pelted my arms and face, but I barely felt the cold drops.

  “He’s refusing to drink it,” Jeff reassured me. “I know he’s a smart dog, but he’s not doing anything they tell him to. He won’t even sit.”

  “That’s because they’re speaking the wrong language,” I gritted out.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just don’t let them hurt him.”

  “I won’t. You’ve got my promise on that. Don’t worry, okay?” Jeff’s voice seemed so far away as anger flooded my system. “Just get here as soon as you can.”

  I hung up and ran. I ran hard, ignoring the pain as I forced my legs to go faster than they’d ever gone before.

  Because of the fight with Ezra—if I could even call it a fight—I had so much trouble concentrating during my shift. I spilled Dr. Pepper down my shirt. I dropped an entire tray, resulting in broken plates and cups. I brought the wrong order to my tables—three separate times.

  And my measly tips reflected it.

  Trying desperately not to cry, I stuffed the sorry wad of cash into my purse as I hung up my apron.

  It’d been a shitty day.

  My one highlight of the evening had been when Paul came in. He had money, but I refused to let him pay. I insisted on him ordering whatever he wanted, then brought him two burgers instead of one.

  As I’d taken his empty plates away, I’d casually mentioned how short-staffed we were. The cook was also the dishwasher, and he was having a hard time keeping up in the kitchen. Then I’d planted the seed with Rocky, telling him that Paul might be interested in a job, but he was having some trouble getting back on his feet. Rocky owned a studio apartment above the restaurant and it was empty. Wasn’t it a shame that we were low on workers and Rocky was losing money on rent every month?

  On my way out the door, I saw them sitting at the table together. I crossed my fingers, hoping they could work something out.

  I rushed to my car, wanting to get to Ezra to apologize for how I’d reacted this afternoon. Because of the emotional upheaval I’d been through earlier in the day, I’d been hanging by a thread when I got to his place.

  Seeing him in pain, hearing that someone had caused it… I just snapped.

  And I was too hard on him.

  His need for friendship was completely understandable. I liked to think our relationship would be enough for him, but a fraternity could offer him things I couldn’t; bromance and all that crap.

  Still, there had to be a better place for him.

  Hands on the wheel, I mentally pushed away my personal problems and focused on Ezra’s current situation.

  I just needed to go to his place and talk things out. We could find reasonable solutions together like rational adults.

  No matter what, I needed to remain calm. Freaking out on him wasn’t going to fix anything.

  I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the familiar form running on the sidewalk. Headlights from passing cars lit up the bubble butt I’d know anywhere.

  Tapping my brakes, I rolled down the passenger side window as he flew by.

  “Ezra!”

  Stumbling to a stop, he turned. His eyes were wild as he searched for me, then he made a beeline for my car. He jumped into the passenger side.

  “To the frat house,” he heaved, out of breath.

  I didn’t hesitate to hit the gas, because the tension rolling off him was like nothing I’d ever seen. His hair and clothes were wet, and his hand shook as he wiped the rain off his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned, trying to keep my voice level. Calm.

  “They stole Pierre.”

  “What?!” I shouted, speeding faster. “What the FUCK?”

  Remaining calm was no longer an option.

  “I went there earlier to tell them I quit. You were right. You were right about everything.” He made a sound of anguish as he clenched his fists. “I want to hurt them, Kayla. I’ve never wanted to inflict pain on someone like this… but I do now.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed hard, my heart jumping violently. I tried to soothe him by rubbing my hand on his left knee. “How did they get him? How long have they had him and why would they do this?”

  He quickly told me about riding the bus to Rocky’s to check on me and his short conversation with Paul. How he’d gotten back to his place to find Pierre missing, and it was obvious someone had broken in while he was gone. He was just getting to the part about how Jeff had tipped him off when his phone rang.

  “It’s Jeff again,” he announced before answering it. “What’s going on? Are you fucking serious? I’m in Kayla’s car. Okay, stay on the line. I’m putting you on speaker phone.”

  “—so sorry, man.” Jeff’s breathless voice filled the car and it sounded like he was running. “I threatened to call the cops and I think it spooked them. I’m trying to keep up with their car, but I’m not in the best shape.” He coughed. “Shit, I need to work out more.”

  “Just tell me where they’re headed,” Ezra growled, his tone low and hard.

  Looking down at his other hand, I noticed the way his fist kept tightening in his lap.

  Oh, shit. He was serious about wanting to hurt them. Was I doing the right thing? I was pretty much delivering him straight to a brawl.

  “Maybe we should just call the police,” I suggested, worried.

  “Wait, wait. Hold up,” Jeff said. “I think they’re taking him back to your place. They’re getting farther away, but I can see their taillights. They just turned onto Norman Street.”

  Without being asked, I whipped a U-turn, ignoring the honks from angry drivers. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t have to call the police. If I could get their attention this way, all the better.

  We were about a block away from Ezra’s apartment when Jeff gave another update, his sentences choppy from being out of breath.

  “They stopped. I think—they’re—dropping him off in—the field behind your place.”

  Swiping at the wet hair plastered to his forehead, Ezra blew out a breath and he hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

  “Let me out here,” he requested, looking like he was about to jump from the moving vehicle. The door was open before I even came to a full stop.

  “Take it easy on your leg,” I called out.

  But he was already sprinting away.

  Bolting from Kayla’s car, I cut through a parking lot between two of the apartment buildings. I made it to the field just in time to see a car pulling away from the road in the distance, their tires screeching. Tall lamp posts on the side of the busy street lit up the grassy area, and I could see Pierre’s shadow about a hundred yards away. He was probably disoriented, and I didn’t want him going out into traffic and getting hit.

  “Pierre!” I yelled for him as I ran. “Ici!”

  Recognizing my voice, his head snapped in my direction and he immediately bro
ke out into a run.

  We’d gotten about halfway to each other when he yelped and fell. He tried to get up, but collapsed again. Relentlessly, he obeyed my command even though he was hurt. As he struggled to get to me, I could tell he was limping.

  “No. Couche! Reste!” Down. Stay. My feet carried me faster, fear and adrenaline masking any pain I had in my leg.

  Ever the dutiful worker, Pierre listened and when I got to him, I found him lying on his side, his hair matted and damp from the soaked grass.

  I also saw blood.

  Whipping out my phone, I turned on the flashlight and tried to figure out where his injury was.

  It didn’t take long.

  There was a cut a few inches long on his right front leg, and I saw a piece of glass embedded in his paw pad. I recalled what Kayla had said about this side of the field and all the broken bottles.

  My vision blurred as rage took over. I wanted revenge against Aaron and anyone else involved. Whether they knew it or not, they’d dropped Pierre into a sea of broken glass. It didn’t matter if they thought it was a harmless prank. Damage had been done.

  Surprisingly, it felt good to let the anger in. To let it consume me, picturing every wrong thing that had ever been done to me.

  My peers laughing at me. Name calling. Shoving me. Knocking my books out of my arms in the hallway.

  Pierre’s whine brought me back from that dark place.

  “Okay, buddy. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I apologized a few more times as I pulled the brown shard from his paw, because that had to hurt.

  I remembered the handkerchief Kayla had given me months ago. I often carried it in my back pocket—purely for sappy, sentimental reasons—but it was going to be useful now.

  I tied it around the long cut, but there wasn’t enough material to go around for his paw. Hastily tugging my soggy T-shirt off, I wrapped it tightly around his entire leg and foot.

  It would have to do for now.

  Scooping my arms under his middle, I grunted as I struggled to lift his 130 pounds off the ground. My knee protested, pain shooting down my calf, when suddenly the weight became lighter.

  I glanced up to see Jeff grabbing Pierre’s back end.

  “Thank you,” I breathed out as we lifted him together.

  “Don’t thank me,” he huffed. “This is so fucked up. Your girlfriend’s right there.” He nodded his head toward Norman Street. “We just need to get him to the road.”

  Kayla was standing outside her car, the back door wide open. Jeff and I shuffled in that direction, and I warned him about the glass and filled him in on the injuries I could see on Pierre.

  “They didn’t get any alcohol into him,” he assured me. “So, at least there’s that.”

  “Seriously, dude. Thank you. If you hadn’t been there…” I shook my head, not wanting to picture the worst-case scenario. If Jeff had left with me, who knows what would’ve happened. “They’ll probably kick you out for this.”

  “Fuck them. I already quit.”

  “Good.”

  Kayla’s face crumbled when she saw Pierre’s leg wrapped in my shirt and the blood that was already soaking through.

  “I drove around here when I saw him fall,” she said, wiping tears off her cheeks. “I called the emergency vet clinic in town, just in case. They’re expecting us.”

  My eyes burned, but I was too angry to cry. I might’ve been a sensitive guy, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed a tear over some assholes. Wasn’t about to start now.

  “Oh my God!” a high voice shrieked, and my head turned to see Ashlyn running across the street from the dorm. “What happened? Did he get hit by a car?

  “The frat took Pierre,” Kayla choked out. “He’s hurt.”

  “How can I help?”

  “Can you look up directions to the Animal ER?” Kayla got into the driver’s seat, and Ashlyn ran around to the passenger side.

  Jeff and I maneuvered Pierre into the back, and I scooted in with him, laying his furry head on my lap. Jeff jumped in the other side, being sure not to take up too much room.

  “The ER clinic is on the other side of campus,” Ashlyn spoke up from the front, holding up the GPS on her phone. “Go straight, then take a right on Bradley.”

  Kayla floored it.

  “How bad is it?” she asked me, sniffling as she glanced back in the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I think he’ll need stitches in a couple places. They never should’ve dumped him there.”

  All three passengers had an outburst at the same time.

  “They never should’ve taken him in the first place!” That was Kayla.

  “Those motherfuckers!” And Jeff.

  “I can’t believe I ever thought they were hot,” said Ashlyn.

  I agreed with all of it, but I needed to stay calm for my friend. Gently petting his snout, I gazed down at Pierre with all the love and gratefulness I had for him. He didn’t ask for this, and he definitely didn’t deserve it. All he wanted to do was take care of me, and I’d inadvertently brought this on him.

  “Ugh. What’s that awful smell?” Ashlyn sniffed the air. “Like onions and vomit.”

  “You have a very keen sense of smell, sweetheart. Spot on.” Jeff extended his arm her way for an introduction. “Hi there. I’m Jeff.”

  She eyed his hand like it was diseased and covered her nose. Her incredulous stare turned my way. “Is this the Jeff you were trying to set me up with?”

  I gave a nod. “Jeff, this is Ashlyn, Kayla’s roommate.”

  “Aw, man, you were talking about me?” He sounded flattered. When Ashlyn still wouldn’t accept his handshake, his tone turned offended. “What? I took a shower and everything. How are we supposed to double date if you won’t even touch my hand?”

  Horrified, she gasped. “This is not a date.”

  Their banter offered a welcomed comedic relief to the moment, but I was still focused on Pierre, stroking his head with one hand and keeping pressure on his wound with the other.

  I wasn’t clear-headed enough to think of a good way to retaliate for what had been done, but I knew one thing.

  There would be hell to pay.

  I woke up to Kayla’s warm body spooned in front of mine, and I had about five peaceful seconds before yesterday’s hellish events came back to me.

  The argument with Kayla. Quitting the frat. Pierre getting hurt. Taking him to the emergency clinic, then spending an hour at the police station filling out a report to press charges against Aaron and the others involved in stealing my dog.

  Even though Jeff only saw part of it, he came with us as a witness to the burglary and animal cruelty. Pierre being a service animal—therefore worth more money than a regular pet—made things a lot worse for the offenders. And the fact that he was injured? According to the cops, it was a felony and they were looking at possible jail time if found guilty.

  My gut churned when I remembered how scared I was when Pierre went missing. Finding him in that field, hurt, as he desperately tried to get to me.

  It could’ve been worse.

  What if I hadn’t gotten there in time? What if he’d gone the other way, out into the busy street and gotten hit by a car?

  Concentrating on the feel of Kayla’s soft backside against me, I tried to shake myself from the bad thoughts I was having. I knew she was awake because she was drawing lazy circles on the palm of my hand.

  And now that I was fully conscious, the throbbing around my knee was impossible to ignore.

  “I really made a mess of things, huh?” My voice was rough from sleep.

  She turned in my arms, her face serious. “What? No. None of this was your fault.”

  “It feels like it is. It’s just—I was so busy trying to be something I’m not, I didn’t even realize what a bad situation it was until it was too late.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to join a fraternity.” Her soft voice was soothing. “You should
be allowed to make friends without having to jump through a bunch of hoops.”

  Logically, I knew she was right. I’d learned enough from getting bullied that I didn’t bring this on myself.

  The victim is never to blame.

  But that didn’t stop me from feeling guilty as fuck.

  And that guilt made me think some stupid, irrational shit; I’d stayed awake for hours last night after we got back, running through future scenarios in my mind, questioning my long-term goals at McAdams.

  This was supposed to be my new start.

  But what if it was no different than high school? I wasn’t sure I could handle another four years of being ridiculed. What if I wasn’t cut out for college? I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life yet.

  A knock sounded at the door, and I sighed.

  Late last night, I’d called my parents to tell them I was using their emergency credit card for the vet bills. Of course, they had a million questions about what happened, and I told them everything. After convincing them there was no reason for them to drive here in the middle of the night, they told me they’d be coming first thing this morning.

  “That’s my parents,” I told Kayla. “Get ready to see some action. I’m sure my mom is on a rampage right now. She might be little, but nothing pisses her off more than someone messing with her kids.”

  Nodding, Kayla sat up, and the sheet fell to reveal her smooth thighs. She always wore a shirt to bed, but she’d stopped wearing pants. Probably because they usually ended up coming off anyway.

  “Do you want me to answer the door?” Her concerned gaze dropped to my leg. When she pulled the blankets off, she lifted my gym shorts up and grimaced at the swelling.

  “It looks as bad as it feels,” I said lightly, attempting to joke and tell the truth at the same time. After the night in the basement, then all the running I did, it was in bad shape and there was no point in hiding it. “But I’ll get the door. You get some pants on.”

  I delivered a swift kiss to her lips, then I nearly blacked out from the pain when I swung my feet over the side of the bed.

  Fuck. I couldn’t remember the last time it hurt this much, but I forced myself up anyway.