Tripp

by Kristen Kehoe

  “Ah, gonna try and convince your girl to hook next class and go have some real fun?”

  That thought makes me smile. “It’s not a bad idea,” I tell him and take out my phone. No text. “If I can find her.”

  “I just passed her walking into the counseling office a few minutes before the bell rang. Might be she’s still there.”

  I put my phone away after Huey says this. If he’s right, then that must mean she’s talking to Mrs. Flynn, her counselor. Which makes sense. I know something’s been bothering Rachel lately—something more than Marcus and Gracie and the custody suit that was just finalized. I think it has to do with her future and where she’s going to school next year—choices she wants to make, but needs reassurance for.

  She’s been seeing Mrs. Flynn once a week since she was a freshman and quick to explode or punch people. That’s where she usually goes if she needs clarity, though she’d never admit it.

  “Looks like I won’t be asking her to hook class,” I say and Huey smiles.

  “There’s always after lunch.”

  “True.” Even though I know where she is, I look over my shoulder because that tickle on my neck has become a persistent annoyance.

  “Hey, Huey? You ever have any interaction with Marcus Kash in the off-season?”

  He shakes his head and leans back against my locker. “Nah, man. My cousin swore he’d kill me if I bought outside of the family.”

  “Your cousin know him?”

  Huey shrugs. “Not much. Just the usual—rich kid with something to prove. He deals because he can, not because he’s got mouths to feed like my cousin. Why? You don’t smoke, Big T, and I know you aren’t looking to deal no matter how many mouths you got to feed these days.”

  “Got that right. It’s nothing, just a feeling. He’s been giving Rachel some trouble and I’m worried it’s not over.”

  Huey nods and pushes off the lockers. “You want me to text my cousin—get a beat on his street activity?”

  “Thanks, Huey. It’ll make me feel better to know where he’s at.”

  “I’ll let you know what he says.”

  Huey and I separate and head to class. Rachel usually makes fun of me for being the one person who doesn’t keep my phone in my pocket so I can text during class, but today I do. Something’s off. I can feel it.

  Thirty minutes into a Physics lecture I’ve barely heard two words about, my phone buzzes. I take it out to glance at it. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  Huey: Word on the street is no one’s seen Kash in a week or so. No call to his regulars or supplier. Rumors spreading that mommy finally sent him to rehab.

  Not right. It’s not right, and I can’t explain why. I feel like Huey’s text just confirmed everything I’ve been thinking. We’re not done—he’s not done. It’s only a matter of time. I’m about to put my phone away when I see a text from Rachel pop up.

  Rachel: Just got done talking to Flynny. Think I figured some stuff out. Meet me in the BR by counseling and I’ll tell you.

  It takes me five minutes to finish my equations and convince Mr. Harbert to let me use the pass. I don’t know what my urgency is, but the feeling I had earlier has multiplied. I need to see Rachel, to make sure she’s okay, to let her know what Huey found out so she can be prepared.

  I’m still down the hall from the bathroom when I hear the pounding on the door. The voice sounds familiar, and when I start to run, I hear it again—this time more frantic, the voice screaming now.

  “Flow? Flow open the door.”

  Lauren’s standing on the outside of the door, pounding with both fists and people who are on an open period are starting to gather and stare.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lauren looks at me and her eyes are wide and worried. “I walked out, Tripp. I walked out and saw him. I tried to convince myself that it was okay, that she knew he was there, but she didn’t. I know she didn’t.”

  “I need you to tell me who’s in there with her, Lauren.”

  “Marcus,” she whispers and my stomach falls out.

  I hear a shout from inside. My already-jacked heart-rate spikes dangerously. “Rachel?” I turn to the bathroom door and shout her name. I can’t hear her, can’t hear anything but the occasional spike in his voice, and that scares me more. I slam into the door, shoving at it with my shoulder even though it doesn’t move. “Rachel are you in there?”

  “I’m so sorry, Tripp. I came back. I came back, but the door was locked and I couldn’t get in.”

  “I need you to go and get help.” Lauren shakes her head, staring at the door like she can’t believe it. “Lauren, now!” I shout. She jumps, snapping out of it enough to turn and race down the hall.

  I step back and punch my foot against the door. I hear a satisfying crack, but it’s not enough. I step back again. This time, there’s someone next to me and I look over at Huey. His face is sober.

  “Together,” he says and I nod.

  I hear Lauren talking somewhere behind me, and I can feel the panic begin to buzz around as more people gather, but I just look at Huey. “On three.”

  “One. Two. Three.” We step forward right as a scream can be heard from inside. My body wants to freeze in shock—the animalistic nature in the sound—but I don’t let it. Instead, I slam my foot as hard as I can, shouting Rachel’s name. Our feet connect with the wood at the same time. The force cracks the door open and it bangs into the wall.

  I’m through it in an instant, Huey right next to me, and time seems to slow. Two things happen at once—I see Rachel staggering away from Marcus, and I see Marcus. Even with a split lip and terror in his eyes, he’s reaching for her again and something inside of me snaps. I reach for Rachel, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her toward the door.

  “Get her out of here!” I shout to the room at large. I know I should turn around, should scoop her up and take her outside myself, but I can’t let him go. I can’t turn away when I know he never intended to let her leave this bathroom.

  There’s noise all around me as more people show up, but I barely hear any of it. My hand is in the front collar of Marcus’s jacket. I’m hauling him toward me with my left even as I bring my right up under his jaw. His head snaps back with a satisfying whip, but I don’t stop. I get in three more punches before the arms banding around me get tight enough to hinder my swing. I try anyway. I’m both relieved and pissed when I let go of Marcus and he slumps to the floor.

  “Hang on there, Big T, we got to get you out of here. The police have showed and unless you want to take a ride, it’s time to let them take over.”

  Huey has me. Right behind him is one of the campus police. I let them take me out, let them sit me against the wall and stare at me while someone else goes in to cuff Marcus and bring him out. The hallways are full now—as if people heard there was a fight and came running. Though my eyes are scanning, I can’t find Rachel anywhere.

  “Where is she?” I ask, looking at Huey and then the officer. “Where’d they take Rachel?”

  “Flow’s still in the bathroom sitting on the floor with Lauren,” he says. “She couldn’t walk, and nobody wanted to make her without getting her checked out first.”

  “I need to see her,” I say and step forward. The officer places a hand on my chest to halt me.

  “Not until the room’s cleared.”

  “She shouldn’t be in there with him,” I say between my teeth. Jesus, she never should have been in there with him.

  “She’s not alone, and unless you want to go for that ride your friend here warned you about, you need to wait.”

  It takes two minutes. I stare at the door the entire time. When they finally lead Marcus out, his hands are cuffed behind his back and his head is hanging so low his chin nearly rests on his chest. He looks spent, broken. I can’t help but wish I had broken him more.

  “All clear. Let’s get some admin to help with crowd control,” the officer says into his radio and nods at me. “You can go
in and get your girl. You’ll want to take her to the offices. She needs to be talked to and looked at.”

  I take a second to slap Huey on the shoulder in thanks before rushing back into the bathroom.

  “Rachel.” I say her name before I’m even all the way through the door. I say it again when I see her on the floor against the wall, her knees to her chest, her face pale, and her eyes dark and dilated. Lauren is with her. I murmur my thanks, and she moves so I can crouch in front of Rachel.

  I don’t want to scare her, but I have to touch—my hands reaching hesitantly for her face, cupping it gently while my thumbs graze her jawline and sweep over the tears falling undetected from her eyes.

  “Rachel,” I say in a quiet, gentle, apologetic tone.

  Again.

  He.

  Got.

  Her.

  Again.

  I lean in, my lips brushing her forehead in silent apology; her tears really come now. Her body begins to tremble and her breathing is shallow. When the dam breaks, the power of her sobs wrack her until she’s wrapped herself around me, her hands anchored at my back as she holds on.

  She fought. She was at the door when I was coming through, and all that strength is gone now—replaced with a kind of fear I can’t begin to comprehend.

  I whisper to her, telling her how sorry I am, how much I love her. I try to remind her I’m here—I’m always here—and no matter what, I won’t leave her again.

  She wraps around me more securely, her face at my chest. I sweep my arms under her legs, lifting her as gently as I can, and cradling her against me before I turn and walk her out of the bathroom.

  The hallways are filled with gawkers, but Mrs. Flynn is waiting with the vice principal and the same officer from earlier. They lead us to the front office and leave us in a small conference room. I don’t put Rachel down when we get there; I look at Mrs. Flynn and she nods like she gets it.

  Rachel’s sobs are still wracking me, soaking through my T-shirt to my skin and it takes everything in me not to let loose and fall apart.

  “I need to call her mom,” I say, my voice scratchy and strained. My arms tighten around her involuntarily.

  “I already have,” Mrs. Flynn says in a low voice. “We’ve also called an ambulance. I don’t know how long she was in there,” she says when Rachel whimpers and shakes her head no. “I know she doesn’t want to talk to anyone else, but we don’t know the extent of her injuries.”

  When she pauses and looks at me, I shake my head. “I don’t know, either.” And it’s another wound over my already-raw skin. I don’t know what happened in that bathroom, what Marcus did or didn’t do. Her clothes are intact, but does that mean he couldn’t have degraded her, hurt her…touched her? Oh, Jesus Christ.

  “We need to wait and have her checked out. Until then, I’ll have everyone wait outside until her mom’s here.” Mrs. Flynn turns to go. I stay where I am, holding Rachel, rocking her, my arms banded around her so tightly I’m not sure I can remove them without help. “She’s strong, Tripp. She’ll get through this.”

  Strong. Right.

  Rachel, the girl who can kick anyone’s ass, has stood up against a monster again. But that’s not the point, is it? She never should have had to stand up to him in the first place. “No one should have to be this strong, Mrs. Flynn.”

  She stares at me, and then accepts what I’ve said. “No, they shouldn’t. But it’s lucky for us that Rachel is anyway.”

  39

  Present

  I’m sitting in the waiting room of the E.R. with my elbows resting on my knees. Dr. C and Stacy are in with Rachel and the doctor. It was too crowded for me—that was my excuse; the real reason I’m out here is because I’m not altogether sure why Rachel would want me near her after what just happened.

  Katie’s next to me; she followed Rachel and me from school. Although Rachel fought her mom, Mrs. Flynn, the principal, and me, she was taken away in an ambulance. School policy. I don’t know if that’s true or if it was the only way they could convince her to get in the ambulance and let the paramedics check her out.

  My hands clench as I remember the way she clung to me—her face pressed into my neck, her arms in a stronghold as I carried her out of that fucking bathroom—her tears no longer silent. My own eyes stung as I held her and felt the shudders from her body tremble straight through mine.

  Sweet Jesus, he tried to kill her.

  I know things like this happen. I don’t really watch the news, but I do watch ESPN and follow stats on Twitter. While I’m scrolling through my feed and checking score reports, I get highlights and updates about other things. I know guys kill their girlfriends or wives more regularly than I’d like to think about. I know domestic violence exists, and someone suffers at the hand of someone else every day. I know that deep down, I worried this exact thing would happen to Rachel because I knew Marcus wasn’t stable. Still, breaking into that bathroom and seeing him with Rachel…hearing him yelling at her as I pounded on the outside of the door—wondering the entire time what I’d find when I got in there… it’s enough to tear me.

  “Jackson.”

  I look up and see Griff and Tanner coming toward us. For some reason, the control I was sure I had over myself slips at the sight of them. Katie has tears streaming down her face; her eyes are dark and devastated when Tanner pulls her off her feet and into his arms. I take a second to wonder why that seems so natural for them, but I let it go. I stand and Griff grips my shoulder bringing me into a hug before I can say anything. Tanner sets Katie down, but keeps his arm around her, holding her to his side as she shakes.

  “Mom’s with G and Gracie. Dad’s on his way over there after he closes the shop.” I nod. “How’s Rachel?”

  I shake my head at Griff because I don’t know. Logically, I know she’s going to be all right. She was lucid and breathing, she was coherent enough to relay the details of what happened to both the police and the EMT. Though there was some surface damage, none of it was life threatening. None of it was as bad as it could have been. The EMT’s words float to the surface, and I close my eyes.

  “I don’t know. She’s alive,” I say and hate that I even have to verbalize that. She’s alive, no thanks to me. She’s bruised and beaten and scared out of her ever-loving mind because I wasn’t there like I said I would be. “Her throat’s pretty raw, inside and out. She has a bump the size of a baseball on the back of her head from where he slammed her against the wall. The nurse said they’d probably keep her for observation for a while, in case she has a concussion.”

  My voice breaks, and I have to stop and clasp my hands on top of my head, remembering to breathe. When the EMTs were checking Rachel out, they asked her about all of her injuries and she described how they all occurred. He’d pinned her to the counter and slammed her against the wall hard enough for her to crack her head. He used his forearm to press hard and deep into her windpipe, cutting off her air and her strength.

  The only relief came quickly when they asked her about sexual assault of any kind, and she shook her head no.

  “Christ, I should have been there. I knew he was dangerous. I knew it, I felt it—and I still wasn’t fucking there. She could have died.” My lungs are heaving now, and my hands have dropped to my side, clenched into fists. I need to punch something, anything, and release the rage and helplessness building inside of me. “I promised her I would be there, that I wouldn’t leave her alone…then, I wasn’t there.”

  “Jackson—” Tanner starts, but I shake my head.

  “I knew, goddammit. I knew. Why couldn’t I keep her safe?”

  “Tripp, don’t.” Katie puts her hand on my arm, her eyes wide and wet as they look up at me. “You got to her. While you were convincing Rachel to go in the ambulance, I talked to Lauren and Mrs. Flynn…and all of the teachers who were there to keep us away from you guys. Every one of them said the same thing: you kicked the door down and you got her out.” She waits until I look at her. “Now you need to be her
e. Don’t start blaming yourself, or you’re useless to her. Blame Marcus. He’s the reason she’s in that room. Not you.”

  It takes me a second, but I know she’s right, and I nod. I relent enough to wrap my arm around her, giving her a hug. “I guess you’re not so crazy anymore.”

  “Oh, I’m plenty crazy still. Crazy enough that if I see Marcus Kash…what you did to him in the bathroom will look like a tea party. My dad’s in jail—I know people.”

  I whistle low and long. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You better, because no one hurts my girl and gets away with it.”

  I wish that were true, but I have an awful feeling Marcus Kash is going to be the exception to that statement.

  ~

  Over an hour later, Stacy comes out to find me.

  “She’s asking for you.”

  My brothers are still here, Griff next to me and Tanner on the other side of Katie. When I stand, I feel their eyes on me. Stacy watches me too. I walk toward her, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She’s ten years older than Rachel, and she’s always been reserved. Even though I knew her when we were kids, it was always as a weekend family member, or the girl Rachel constantly had to try and live up to. While Rachel is an in-your-face kind of girl—who might make a splash if need be, or just because—Stacy is the opposite, a model citizen, in other words.

  She and I only ever spoke the time she trusted me to help her get Rachel out of her depression. I fear she regrets that now when we’re walking toward her sister’s hospital room—because I couldn’t protect her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. She halts her forward progress, and looks over her shoulder at me. I stick my hands in my pockets before pulling them out again and scraping them over my head.

  “What are you sorry for?” Her words are so similar to the ones Rachel threw at me not long ago, her eyes direct—another trait she and her sister share. I wonder if she’s left-handed like Rachel—so I know which way to expect the punch to come from.