by Amy Sparling
Her eyes widen and I nod. “Yeah, that’s probably it. I’m sorry you’re too much of a troll for my boyfriend to look twice at you.”
I turn on my heel and march back to my desk. I can handle this shit. It only makes me stronger, right?
Something in Aubrey’s glare tells me that I’ve moved our little bickering sessions into deeper territory. I can feel her gaze boring into the side of my skull for the rest of class. And when I finish my worksheet, I want until three or four other students are at the back table to go turn it in. In my old schools, under the care of Dawn, I wouldn’t have backed down. If Aubrey wanted bitch and moan until I got so annoyed I punched her, that’d be fine. I didn’t care back then.
But my new parents are angels. They’re the kindest and most generous people on earth. They look at me like I’m worth loving. I’m not going to get in a fight at school just weeks after I became their daughter. It won’t happen. I’m going to be the person they want me to be and not the piece of white trash that Aubrey has so accurately seen buried underneath my good girl bravado.
I keep hoping that Jett will be right and that the girls who say rude things to me will slowly give up and move on to something else, someone else. But I get the stares when I’m alone in the hallways. Some girls ask if I’m Jett’s girlfriend and they just sound curious, but others say it just to be mean. Just so they can get the satisfaction of me saying yes and then they can point their smirks and judgmental laughter my way and know that I understand it’s meant for me.
I never knew that dating one of the most popular guys in school would be such a curse. It’s only been three days of my senior year at Lawson High School and I’m already dying for it to be over. I’ve considered making a poster board sized calendar to hang on my wall. It’d have the rest of the days of the year written on it so I can cross them off one by one, counting down the days until I’m free and out of this high school drama.
I spend the rest of my time wondering how long it’ll take Jett to wake up and realize I’m just some loser. Some pathetic nobody with no fun life experiences and no money and nothing worth loving. He’s bound to find out sooner or later. And when it does, it’s going to crush me.
Just two weeks ago I’d thought I was the luckiest girl on earth. I had new parents, a new car, a gorgeous house and a bedroom all to my own. My boyfriend is the hottest guy ever and he’s caring and loving and doesn’t ever pressure me into sex stuff unlike every other guy I’ve ever known. Just two freaking weeks ago—hell, just four days ago—my life was perfect. I guess I always knew that it would come crumbling down at some point.
I guess I just thought I had a little more time.
After gym class, I hitch my backpack onto my shoulders and walk quickly to my next period. The gym is on the other side of the school, and with five minutes between classes, it’s always a close call to get to English class on time. And my English teacher is at least three hundred years old. She doesn’t give warnings—she gives tardies. And tardies equal detention.
I round the corner into another hallway near the stairs. My body goes flying forward, my head crashing against the wall. I stumble and cry out in pain but I don’t fall, since I manage to grab onto the staircase. What the hell just happened? I rub my head and turn around.
Aubrey stands there, arms crossed, a perfect bitch look plastered to her face. “What the hell?” I yell, starting toward her.
A strong arm slams out, blocking me. That’s when I see the guy standing next to her, using his massive arm as a barricade. He has dark black hair and the same eyes as Aubrey. “Is this the bitch who was bothering you?” he asks her.
She nods. “That’s her.”
With his arm pressed to my chest, he slams me backward until my back hits the wall. There’s nothing I can do to stop it; he’s way too strong.
His breath smells like spearmint gum as he hovers in front of me, using his forearm to press down on my neck. I reach for his arm and dig my nails into his skin but it doesn’t faze him.
“Get the fuck off me,” I manage to say through gasps of breath.
“You stay away from my little sister, you hear me?” His lip curls and from this close, he looks like he’s thirty. He must have failed a lot of classes to still be in high school.
“I didn’t do shit to your sister,” I say. I contemplate doing something really horrible—like bad—spitting in his face. I’ve never sunken that low in my life, but he does have me pressed against a wall while he hovers so close to me I can feel his heart beating through his arm.
“You’re a cute little thing,” he says, his eyes roaming down my body. From the corner of my eye, I see his sister walk away, leaving us all alone in the stairwell. The two-minute bell rings.
“Let me go, asshole.”
“In a minute,” he says. There’s a hunger in his eyes that I’ve seen on countless other men in my life. With one arm pressed against my neck, he leans in, pushing his body up against mine. I wince and turn to the side, trying to slide out of his grip but every time I move, he chokes me harder, His other hand grabs my boob and squeezes it so hard I gasp.
“Get off me,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You like that,” he says, moving his mouth even closer to mine. I keep my jaw tight and I turn and twist and fight like hell to break free, even though I can’t breathe anymore.
His disgusting hand slides down my side and reaches for my jeans. I manage to lift my foot just enough to kick him in the shin but it doesn’t really help. My throat burns and my vision fills with black spots.
I hear a grunt and then I’m released. Oxygen rushes into my lungs and I fall forward, gasping for air like I can’t possibly get enough.
Cursing fills the hall, the voice familiar. I sit back on my knees and watch while Jett plummets the guy’s face with his fist.
The guy fights back, landing a blow to Jett’s eye, but Jett doesn’t flinch. He attacks Aubrey’s brother again, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to the ground.
Commotion sounds from down the hallway. Doors open and close. I see administrators rushing toward us, talking into handheld radios. I just sit here trying to remember how to breathe, rubbing the sore spot on my neck that’s surely bruised, and I watch my boyfriend kick this guy’s ass until a teacher pulls them apart.
*
Jett’s eye is swollen and bleeding just above his eyebrow. The entire side of his face is a purple mess, and I can barely see the blue in his left eye because it’s nearly swollen shut. The nurse gave him an ice pack which he holds over it while he walks out of the principal’s office.
He had to talk to him first. I went second. After telling the principal the story—leaving out no details—I learned that Aubrey’s brother is a college dropout who only showed up to school because Aubrey texted him. This was a planned attack and I was the victim. After hearing this story, the principal called Jett back in. He was in there for only two minutes, according to the clock on the wall.
“Hey,” I say, standing up.
Jett holds up a pink slip of paper. “Suspended for a week. It doesn’t matter that I was saving you. Apparently I was more aggressive than necessary.”
“Oh my god,” I say, putting my hand on his chest. “This is all my fault.”
“None of it is your fault,” he says, taking my hand. We leave the office and head to the parking lot. School isn’t over but we’re sure as hell not going back to class after what happened.
“Jett, I can’t believe this,” I say, feeling tears rush to my eyes. “Your parents are going to kill you.”
“Nah. It’ll be okay.” It could just be because half of his face is swollen, but it doesn’t seem like he believes what he’s saying.
He chuckles. “Remember on the first day of school when I joked about getting suspended?”
“Don’t remind me,” I say, looking at the ground.
“At least I made it three whole days,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.
“You are not funny,
” I say, trying to hide my smile.
He winks at me with his good eye. “Maybe I’m a little bit funny.”
Chapter 20
My parents spend ten minutes arguing over whether or not I should go to a clinic for my busted up face. Dad says I’ll be fine, that it’s no worse than the dozens of dirt bike injuries I get every year. Mom says the busted eye might leave permanent scarring, that I might have a broken eye socket or worse.
Dad rolls his eyes. We’re all in the kitchen, sitting around the island in the middle of the room. Well, I’m sitting. Mom’s behind me, her hands on my shoulders while she argues with Dad and tilts my chin up to look at me every few seconds. Dad sits on a barstool on the other side of the island. He’s working on his laptop and talking to us at the same time since he had to come home early from work when the school called my parents to tell them what happened.
“He could have a concussion!” Mom says.
“He didn’t hit me that hard,” I say. “It’s really not a big deal.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” she says, shifting so she’s not directly behind me. I have to turn my head to see her hand with my other eye. “Three.”
“Ugh, you can’t even see out of your left eye,” she says, resting her hand on my cheek. I wince at the pain, but try to hide it. Because she’s my mom, she doesn’t miss it.
“Honey, you’re in pain.”
“Of course I am, I got punched in the face repeatedly,” I say with a sigh. I turn and step off the barstool. I’m taller than Mom when I’m standing in front of her. “I’m fine, Mom, really. I promise. I’d rather go be with Keanna right now.”
“Not until we have a talk,” Dad says, his tone serious. He points to where I was sitting moments ago and I take a set again. Lines form in Dad’s forehead while he stares at me. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
I heave a sigh. “I walked around the hallway, saw a guy pressing Keanna to the wall, so I ran up and grabbed him and punched him. Then I realized he wasn’t just pestering her but he was choking her. So I beat his ass until a teacher made me stop.”
“He was choking her?” Mom says in a high pitched voice. She sits straighter, and twists her ring around her finger. “Jace,” she says, staring at my dad like she expects him to do something.
Dad leans forward, his brow furrowed. “So you mean this guy was just attacking Keanna? You two weren’t fighting over her or something?”
“What?” I practically choke on my own spit. “Are you kidding me? Why would I be fighting over my own girlfriend?” Anger and something a lot like amusement courses through me, mixing together until I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or if this is all hilarious. “Dad, what the hell do you think I was doing?”
He glances at Mom and they exchange a look. “I guess we thought you might have been up to your old antics,” he says, pressing his palms to the table. “I was afraid you were fighting for the wrong reason.”
“Oh my god.” It’s definitely anger now. Anger flows through my veins, warming my muscles and making my heart ache. “Dad, I love Keanna! Some asshole attacked her and it was all because of me, probably, but none of this was her fault. I’m not the person I used to be. You have to believe that.”
My parents do that stupid look thing again, like they’re talking to each other by gaze alone. It’s infuriating. Mom puts a hand on my arm. “How are your ex-girlfriends handling the fact that you have a new girlfriend?”
“I don’t have ex-girlfriends,” I say before I realize to keep my mouth shut. Way to go, Jett. You just admitted you’re a man slut to your mother.
Mom sighs. “You know what I mean. How are they handling it?”
“Not well.” I heave another sigh. “That’s why Keanna got attacked. Some bitch in her first period class is friends with a girl who liked me last year but I didn’t like her back. Apparently this girl has been berating Keanna all week and finally when Keanna stood up for herself, the girl had her brother come dish out a beating.”
Dad’s fist slams into the table. “This is not acceptable. We can’t let this shit happen, Bay.”
Mom shrugs. “That Aubrey girl is suspended and they said the brother was taken to jail. There’s not really much we can do.”
Dad’s jaw flexes. “Keanna is our responsibility, too, Bay. Our son’s dumbass past is going to hurt her.” He casts a quick glance at me and I’ve never felt so fucking low in my life.
Dad’s face falls, and he stares off into the distance. “Keanna is my best friend’s daughter now, Jett. If you’re going to date her, you can’t treat her like the others.”
“Dad, what makes you think I would?” I say, desperation filling my voice. “I love her, okay? I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“Seems like something already has,” Mom says, her words hitting straight to the bone.
I open my mouth to argue, but I know there’s no point. I am a shitty person. I dated around too much, had too much fun, and now I’m learning that it wasn’t fun at all. Those girls meant nothing to me. I only thought I was enjoying my dating around days because that was before I knew what real love is. And now Keanna has been choked, ridiculed, and hassled because of me. Because of my past.
My lip quivers and Mom throws an arm around my shoulder. “Honey, we’re not trying to be hard on you right now. We care about you.”
“That’s true,” Dad says. “But we care about Keanna, too. She’s not some bimbo girl you bring around for a week and then we never see again. She’s a sweet kid and she’s here for good. She’s the daughter of my business partner and our neighbor. You can’t treat her the way you’ve treated others.”
“I won’t.” It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
“Does Keanna know this?” Mom asks. My mom’s embrace has always felt comforting, even as I’ve grown up and gotten too old for that kind of thing. But now, I don’t deserve her loving embrace. I’m a shitty son and a bad person and I have embarrassed both of my parents.
“Keanna knows,” I say. I bite my bottom lip and stare at the dark patterns in the granite countertop. “Well, I’ll make sure she really knows.” I look up and meet my parents with a look of confidence. I need them to believe me. “I know I’ve been a shit person in the past, but I’m not that same person anymore.”
“Honey, you were never a shit person,” Mom says, emphasizing the last two words. “You’re just a free spirit, much like your dad was before he met me.”
“Maybe Keanna is your Bayleigh,” Dad says.
I make a gagging sound. “Okay gross.”
They laugh. “You know what I mean,” Dad says. “I was just like you until I met your mom and settled down. I had it easier because I left my past behind in California.”
I look at Mom. “Were you able to forgive Dad for dating around so much?”
She shrugs. “There’s nothing to forgive. That all happened before he met me.” She flashes him a devilish grin that grosses me out. “He’s been mine ever since.”
“I hope Keanna feels that way,” I say, looking down at my hands. Having this talk with my parents should be awkward as hell but I find it reassuring. It’s nice to have parents I can go to, talk to, and not feel judged.
“I’m glad I have you guys,” I say softly while I stare at my hands.
Dad stands and grabs a beer out of the fridge. “This will be okay, son. It’ll work out if you just be genuine with her. But we need to make sure nothing like this happens again. Keanna doesn’t need to be in danger.”
“I agree,” Mom says. “Our first priority is making sure Keanna is safe and that she knows you won’t mess around on her. God knows what that Aubrey girl put in her head.”
I groan but it almost sounds like a growl. “I need to talk to Keanna,” I say.
My parents nod. “Go,” Dad says, twisting open the cap on his beer. “I can’t believe my son got suspended for a week and I’m not grounding him.”
Mom chuckles and puts a hand to her stomach. It’s sti
ll flat, but she does that a lot lately. I guess she’s more aware of there being a baby inside than we are. “Have fun,” Mom says, waving me away. “Go tell your girl everything will be fine.”
Chapter 21
Jett has been treating me like a porcelain doll for the last two days. Like he’s afraid if he even looks at me wrong, I’ll break into a million pieces. I appreciate the fact that he cares, but he’s the one person I want to treat me normally. I’m fine with Becca fawning over me and rushing me to the doctor to check out my bruised neck. I’m fine with Park, who gave me a talk Friday night about how he’ll kick any guy’s ass who tries to hurt me again. In fact, it made me feel awesome and loved that my new parents care so much. But with Jett, my rock, my boyfriend—I just want him to be normal.
We’ve spent the last forty-eight hours watching Netflix, cuddled in my bedroom. Pretty much the only time I’ve left my room was last night when Becca and I made cupcakes and Jett watched us, knowing he couldn’t exactly help because he sucks at baking. He had decorated some of the cupcakes though, claiming that he was the Sprinkle Master. Last night was fun, but now that it’s Sunday, and the fear of going to school tomorrow has fully manifested, Jett is treating me with epically huge kid gloves.
“Can I get you more water?” he asks, gesturing to the empty bottle on my nightstand.
We’ve piled up all of my pillows to give my headboard some cushion and we’re sitting on top of the comforter, Jett’s arm around my shoulders, and my head resting on his chest. We’re on the final season of Bob’s Burgers on Netflix. Jett is only letting us watch happy, upbeat stuff.
I sit up and turn to look at him. “Jett, I’m stronger than you think I am.”