Luc bounces another look between me and Dad, and although his eyes are still dancing with excitement, his smile has settled.
“Why would you risk losing Tasha for a girl like that? It’s not going to work out, Ryan. You two are on completely different ends of the field. You’re total opposites. You need and deserve someone who’s like you. Tasha is like you. She has the same things you have, looks, financial opportunities, popularity, goals. She knows the kind of life style you lead because she lives it too.”
I stand there and feel his words sear deep into my flesh, and I find it strange that they have the power to cause pain just as severe as I sometimes get in my left leg.
“This other girl, she just doesn’t get you, Ryan. She just doesn’t understand what’s at the heart of you. She doesn’t know what your goals are and how hard you’ve worked to reach them.
“She thinks it’s okay for her to encourage you to fill up your little note book with the pretty pictures you draw, but that’s nothing but a distraction. She’s leading you off course, Son.”
I should inform him that I liked art before I ever met Paige, and that she knows more about what’s in my heart than even he does, but I don’t think it will matter. My chest hurts and that pain when I exhale is back.
“You’re goal has always been to play pro ball, does she know that? Does she fully understand that? Is she in a position to support you in that the way your real friends are?”
Luc is staring right at me, now, and the sparkle in his eyes has faded.
I swallow, trying to force down the enormous lump in my throat.
“You’d better not be sleeping with her, Ry. Have I made myself crystal clear on that?”
I bite at the inside of my lower lip to keep it from quivering and I nod.
Luc doesn’t break the lock he has on me, but his eyes have hardened.
“Can I go, now?” I ask and try not to whimper the words.
“Go.”
As I turn to leave I see disgust grip Luc’s features. I don’t understand why he’s not happy. I got my ass chewed and he got to witness it. He should be thrilled.
I enter my room and am closing the door when I hear Lucas say, “Paige is ten times better than that bitch, Tasha.”
“Shut the hell up, Luc. Go to bed,” Dad orders.
“Well, she is,” Luc says, and then I get it. I suddenly get it. Luc is disappointed in me for not sticking up for Paige – for myself. It wasn’t me he was excited about seeing get put into place, it was Dad.
Luc was probably expecting me to come uncorked the way I did at the kitchen table the day Dad was talking about breeding rights.
I stiffen my jaw, grit my teeth and yank open my door again. “Dad,” I say firmly. “I want my art supplies back. They belong to me and you’ve had them long enough.”
Luc watches a stunned expression land on our father’s face, then with a slight grin he says, “Well, nighty-night, all.”
SIXTEEN
I spend most of Sunday sleeping. I don’t know if I’m just trying to catch up, or if something else is wrong with me, but I can’t seem to stay awake for very long. I feel really depressed.
Monday. I just want to be with Paige. I text her and we meet at the front of the school. We enter the building together and immediately people take notice. I see mostly surprised faces as they work their way around my bubble. I get a few what the hell looks, but they come from the people who dare touch or enter the bubble.
Paige and I turn down the freshman hall on our way to the senior lockers, and Zane and Scott are there, harassing an underclassman. The moment I see them I feel myself flush with heat and dread. It’s not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with Paige, it’s really not. It’s just that I don’t want them to say something rude about her while she’s standing there. I don’t want to see them hurt her.
“Maybe we should go a different way,” I say quickly. Hoping to turn around before they notice us.
Paige doesn’t seem to have heard me. She’s looking at the freshman they have pinned face down on the floor in the middle of the hall. “Those guys are such jerks. Why can’t they leave people alone?”
“I don’t know, and yeah, they are. Come on, let’s get out of here.” I grab her by the upper arm and try to steer her around. But – yeah – I don’t have a lot of power and when she takes another step forward I have to release her in order to focus what strength I do have on keeping my balance.
“Something needs to be done,” Paige says and crusades forward.
Shit! My heart is pounding because I know I can’t just turn and walk away. I’ve got to support her. I’ve got to have her back.
She can walk faster than me on a normal day, but now that she’s perturbed, she’s practically sprinting, so she reaches the scene of the crime before I do.
Scott has his foot on the kid’s head, holding it tightly against the floor while Zane has a knee in his back. He’s leaned over the kid, saying whatever it is he’s saying, close to his ear.
Paige doesn’t hesitate. “Let him up,” she orders Zane and even pushes him with her foot. “You too,” she tells Scott.
Scott chuckles – scratches feverishly at his nuts – looks me in the eyes as I continue toward him and says, “I suddenly feel very itchy.”
“Get yourself some Vagisil then, you pussy. Get off,” I say.
Oh, I really hope they don’t jump me. But a crowd is starting to gather in anticipation of just that type of action.
Zane is actually the first one to get off the kid. He waits until I’m standing over him before he does it though, then he rises up to face off.
I’m afraid of him, simply because I have no defense. Even the slightest of shoves is going to land me face down next to the freshman.
I try not to let my fear show. I never lose eye contact with Zane, even when he circles around me. I turn with him and he stops when we’ve all but traded places, when he’s standing closest to Paige and I’m blocking the freshman.
I think he wants to hit me. I’d like to return the favor, but I don’t have the strength so I don’t make the first move. And for some reason, neither does he.
Scott finally steps off the kid’s head and he scrambles to his feet. His eyes are flooding with tears. His face is red hot with humiliation and his angry glare lands right on me. It’s clear he thinks I’m the one who was on his back. He probably got taken down from behind and really has no clue who was involved.
He shoves me in the chest as he makes a hasty exit and I can’t step back on my left leg to catch myself. I stumble, fall against the lockers, feel my right heel lose what little grip it had and I end up on my ass in front of everyone.
This is revenge enough for Scott and Zane. They both laugh at me and Scott says, “Guess it’s true, no good deed goes unpunished.” They walk away after that and Paige is the one who throws down a hand to help me up.
Once I’m standing again, left leg throbbing, I glance around at the onlookers. No one dares laugh, point, or make fun, and I’m glad for that. They kind of just lower their eyes and step back so that they don’t puncture my bubble and then they disperse.
“Ugh!” Paige is still outraged. “I’m so glad you’re not like those assholes, Ryan.”
And I wonder if she knows I use to be their ring leader.
I don’t have anything to say to her as we make our way to the senior hall. She hasn’t even mentioned my fall, but I feel like a disgrace to her because of it. A complete embarrassment. Pathetic. I leave her at her locker and keep moving.
I pass Tasha. She walks right through my bubble, brushes shoulders with me and keeps on going. I turn to glance at her, but she doesn’t look back at me.
I’m still wondering what the hell her deal is when I look up and realize I’ve taken an ill-fated turn. Zane and Scott are at the end of the hall I’m now halfway down. They’ve seen me, too, so there’s no way I can turn around now.
I beat down my apprehension and try to walk with authority. Hard
when you’re a gimp.
“You screwing that thing now, Ry?” Zane asks and I know he means Paige.
“Better than the hand job you have to give yourself.”
He smiles and there’s something ironic about it. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there just the same. He’s got something on me and I wish I knew what it was.
“You know you’re nothing around this place, don’t you, Ryan,” he asks as he stands in front of the trophy case that, coincidently, has a framed photo of me and a poster that reads: Get Well, Ryan. We Love You, and has hundreds of signatures on it. It’s similar to the one they sent me while I was in the hospital.
I look from it, to him, again. “If being something around here means I have to be a prick, then you can have my status. You got it on the field; you can have it in the halls, too. All hail the king!”
He grabs me by the shirt, whirls me around and slams me against the glass of the case. I don’t want him touching me, but I pray to God he doesn’t let go until I can get my feet under myself. I instinctively latch onto the wrist of the hand he’s holding me with. I do this only to help support myself, but this action causes a vision to flash in my mind. I see my hand around his wrist, just as it is now and I’m squeezing so tightly my knuckles are white. Still, the crimson red blood oozes out from between the cracks of my fingers.
I can sense the feeling of panic that surrounds it and it makes me yank my hand off of Zane. I look down to find a well healed scar on the back of his right wrist. Exactly where I had my hand.
Another bona fide memory. I must have been there when it happened and tried to stop the bleeding.
“It’s not like you just handed over your title, Ryan,” Zane is still in my face. “I took it. I earned it.”
“Yay for you. Get off me, Zane.”
“I took it, Ry, because I’m better than you.”
I want to say, Yeah, okay. Whatever makes you feel better, but I’m sure that will get me punched, so instead I just say, “Let go.”
He finally does, and I push out from between him and Scott. Two more steps put me in the space where the hall I’m in meets with the main hall of the school. There, I only find myself in another mess.
Principal Winford is there and that same freshman kid is with her. “That’s one of them,” he says pointing at me.
Her face scrunches into an evil scowl. “Why am I not surprised? Mr. Farnsworth, a word in my office. Now!”
I glance over at Zane and Scott. Both of them have heard and they bolt before she can round the corner and see them.
She lectures me for at least twenty minutes and then calls my parents.
My mom is embarrassed and apologizes for my behavior. But I think Dad is more pissed that he had to leave work again, than he is that I supposedly roughed up some tattle-tell kid. He waits until we’re out of Mrs. Winford’s office, then he tells me I’d better pull my shit together before he has to come down hard on me. He flicks me in the chest then walks away leaving me to feel the sting.
I feel like total shit the rest of the day.
I try my hardest not to want to find the freshman and do bodily harm to him. Because I realize, if I do, then I really am guilty of what they all think I am.
I find Paige at lunch, because I desperately want to be with her. I need whatever it is she always emits to me. But I don’t have anything to talk to her about and I’m not hungry, so I just lie on the grass by the bench – next to her feet – and fall asleep.
She wakes me up when the bell rings.
I hang over my knees at football practice and wish the ball would hit me in the head and put me out of my misery. When it finally ends, I’m the first one out of there.
Dad’s on my ass again about the whole principal deal when he comes home. He starts out just talking, but works himself into a sweat as his voice gets louder.
I finally get fed up with it all and rise from the couch where he’s had me cornered. This puts me eye to eye with him.
“I didn’t do it, Dad,” I say in a civilized tone. “I was taking the heat for someone else.”
“Then why didn’t you tell the principal that?”
“Really?” I ask.
It takes him a second to realize what he’s just said and when he does he shakes his head. “No. Not really.” His voice is quiet now. “Was it Zane?” I don’t answer, and Dad nods with respect. “You’re a good kid, Ryan. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
I accept his apology with a nod of my own and, after looking me over; he pulls me against his body and embraces me. “I get kind of stressed sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all good.” I hug him back. I like it better when he’s happy with me.
_____
Mom says I’ve been acting weird the last few days and I tell her I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeling weirder than I’ve been acting. She calls my doctor and bumps up my next appointment. He scans my head and says things are looking better.
I just wonder why, if they’re looking better, they don’t feel the same way.
____
“Ry?” I think it’s the first time Paige has ever called me that.
“Hum?” I say and glance over at her.
“Are you upset with me?”
I’ve actually been waiting for her to ask that question, and I’m sure it’s the reason she’s brought me out here to the little girl’s playhouse again.
“No, Paige, I’m not.”
“You sure? You’ve been hanging out with me a lot, but you haven’t said much to me for a few days.”
“I know. I’m sorry. My brain has felt kind of numb, lately, and I sometimes can’t find the words I want to say. But I feel. I can feel things very deeply, and I’ve really appreciated just being around you.”
She smiles. “We don’t always have to have words. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah. I think I’m alright.” I study the features of her face and how the lantern’s light softens them. Her eyes seem to dance, flickering between blue and green like they so often do.
I keep looking at her lips. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. They look so tender and smooth. They part and words come out. “You want to kiss me again, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
“I’d like it, too.”
I smile and it’s the first one I think I’ve given for awhile. She smiles back and turns to face me. She sits on her feet and scoots herself forward until the side of her upper thigh is touching the side of mine, until our hips have almost met.
She doesn’t swoop in for the kill after that. She waits there, humble and beautiful, for me to pursue her. She doesn’t know it, but by her doing this, she’s given me back some of the dignity I felt I lost when I fell in the hall at school.
I lift my hand and stroke her silky hair. I extend a lock of it to length, twist it around my finger and then watch it uncoil.
“I’ve wanted to do that ever since that night we watched the movie on my bed,” I say with a chuckle. I know it’s probably stupid, but it’s true.
“You have?” she says and her eyes sparkle.
“Yeah.” I fall silent again, and I study her until emotion builds in my chest and bubbles out in the form of words. “You have it all, Paige. You’re not only beautiful on the outside; you’re that way inside as well. And you do know me. You know me better than anyone else.
“I’m not who they all want me to be, or who they think I still am. Mostly, I’m just lost. And sometimes it really scares me to be that way. But when I’m with you, I feel found.
“You get who I am. And when I make it to a place in my life where I make some new goals for myself, I know you’ll support me in them.”
“Of course I will,” she whispers.
“See? We’re not on such opposite sides of the field, after all.”
She knows nothing about the conversation with my dad and so she shakes her head. “I don’t think we’re on opposite sides at all.”
“M
e either. I think you’re the only one who’s truly on my team.” I caress her cheek and follow the line of her jaw, then I lean forward and kiss her.
She tastes familiar. Not just I’ve kissed her before familiar. Deeply familiar. Comfortingly familiar. Like, this is where I need to be for a long, long time familiar.
She touches me. Presses her hands tenderly on either side of my face and holds me against her mouth.
I’m not going anywhere. I like it here.
I run my hands down the side of her neck and onto her collar bones, and then I take a moment to stop thinking about how perfect her lips are and focus on how soft her skin feels.
She moves closer and I turn until her chest is touching mine, and then I cinch her to me and feel our hearts beating in unison.
Her hands have moved to my hips and I don’t think she means to, but the side of her thumb finds the flesh under my shirt. I pause, pull out of the kiss and look at her.
She’s oblivious to my insecurities. She doesn’t understand that by touching the bare skin I keep hidden under my shirt, she’s made them flare. She says nothing, just smiles sweetly at me – affection so very alive in her eyes.
I draw in a breath, hold it, then before I can tell myself not to, I yank off my T-shirt. She sees the scars. All of them. All of the ugly scars that have marred and mangled my skinny upper body.
I watch her eyes. I watch them very closely as she inspects me. I do this because I don’t want to know what she’ll tell me about it with her mouth; I want to know what she feels about it in her heart.
There’s empathy. And there’s pain, as she’s now able to see the physical proof of what I’ve been through. There’s sorrow that I had to endure it, and there’s amazement that I made it. There are all of those things and more in her eyes, but the one thing there isn’t a shred of, is appall.
I smile with relief because, with her, I’m good enough, even if I don’t look it. And I’m strong enough, even if I don’t feel it.
“You’re perfect,” she whispers as if she’s read my thoughts, and then she touches my body without fear, resistance, or reservation. She touches me like I’m what she just said I am, perfect.
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