by Stacie Ramey
His eyes haven’t left my face. I feel them on me even as I cast mine downward. “Jenna, do you know what I mean about my wingmen?” His voice is soft as butter. “Jenna?”
“Yes,” I say. “You weren’t looking to see who was reading the texts. Chip and Nate were.”
I’m caught. And all of a sudden, the enormity of what I’ve done, of what’s going to happen next, is too much to bear. Is he angry with me? Disgusted? Amused, but not interested?
“Jenna?” He strokes my cheek, his voice as soft and sweet as his touch. His eyes promising good things. “Are you Elsa?”
I nod.
His lip turns up.
Then the lights go out.
Twenty-Four
There’s mayhem and shouting and cell phone flashlights strobing everywhere. Julian pulls me tight against his side, and I feel his muscles tense. He looks around. “It’s a prank, I’m sure.”
I laugh a little, relieved. “For a moment I thought I killed Hockey Homecoming.” Really, I’m still wondering about the fallout from my big reveal. I mean, one slight smile does not a happy ending make.
Julian helps me forward, my crutches stabilizing me. “Let’s get you back to your chair. If you get hurt tonight, your parents won’t let me near you again.”
His words hug me close. He wants to get near me again. That means something. Hope balloons in my chest. Could this be happening? Could Julian Van Beck really be into me? Me? Did we almost kiss? I swear it looked like he wanted to.
People are running and laughing and screaming. Marauding assailants have entered the gym, dressed in all black with masks pulled over their faces. Clown masks, Scream masks, mugger masks.
“Get the hell out of here,” Chip screams at them.
Mr. Clooney, one of the chaperones, lurches forward, tries to grab one of them, and misses. Mrs. Walker gets one and rips the mask off just before the kid breaks away.
Julian says, “It’s Danbury High. Revenge for the game.”
Three of the Danbury players crouch down. I know what’s going to happen before it even does. They pull their pants down and moon us. Cell phone cameras flash. My head gets filled with the bursts of white light, and I’m a little worried I’ll have a seizure so I try not to look. Back at my table, where Ben has been sitting, Julian helps me into my chair. He puts my crutches on the arm rest.
A Danbury player squeezes between us, nearly plowing into me. Julian’s face goes nuclear. He takes off after him with murder in his eyes, following his teammates who are chasing the Danbury players.
Ben stares after him, clapping. “Outstanding,” he says and then whistles as our freshman goalie, Jason, chases the last of the Danbury guys out the door. I flinch as they plow past and aim my frustration at Ben.
“No. This is not good. Not. Good.” I cross my hands in front of me. “They ruined everything.”
The lights come blasting back on, which makes my eyes ache. I have to shield them. My pupils don’t react to quick changes in light well, and I see dark spots everywhere.
Rena runs up to me. “Oh my God, did you see?”
Of course I did. Everyone did.
“Danbury was pissed about the game. I mean, I knew they were, but this…” She pushes my chair toward the gym exit, because with the craziness and mayhem I’d have a hard time maneuvering myself. “Did you see how mad our guys were? It’s going to be a bad night.”
“What do you mean?”
She leans close to my ear. “Retaliation,” she whispers.
Ben clips along next to us, checking his cell the whole way. “I didn’t get a decent shot.”
Rena smacks him.
“What? We could’ve used it for a pie-throwing booth or something at our next carnival.”
“Nice.”
My head is throbbing. My eyes feel bloodshot. My mind is dizzy with all that just happened. Julian just asked me if I was Elsa. I just answered. And before he could respond, my world completely exploded, the room shattered instead. Now Julian and the other hockey players are out doing God knows what in some sort of revenge. Could hockey player revenge be good?
When we’re out in the hall, I turn to Ben. “My phone?”
“Oh right, here.” He fumbles around, patting his pockets. “Oh no.”
“What?” My stomach falls.
“I’m not sure where it is.”
“You have to find it!” What if Julian tries to reach me?
Ben races back toward the room gym. Mr. Wainscott blocks the entrance, but he moves aside to let my bestie go in, courtesy of all of Ben’s contributions to our school. He’s a golden boy, thankfully. Right now I need that influence. I need my phone back.
“Don’t worry,” Rena says. “He’ll find it. Did you see how mad the hockey players got with this whole thing?”
“Yeah.”
Kids rush by us. Rena’s head twists and turns. “They’re following our hockey players.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Everyone’s pulling out of the parking lot, fast. What do you think that means?”
“It means we need to find Ben.”
“Right here,” I hear him say from behind us. He comes around my chair and hands me my cell. Except the screen is cracked. “Sorry about that. I found it on the floor.”
Rena grabs it, and I almost die right there. I really can’t have my baby sister reading my texts with Julian. “Yeah. It’s pretty smashed.”
She gives it to me. I push the buttons, and I’m unable to get it to respond at all. My heart falls. No communication with Julian. And right when he asked me the big question. We hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it. But he knew. He knew. And he didn’t seem to be upset. He seemed interested. Happy. He looked like he wanted to kiss me. He talked like he wanted us to see each other. Like maybe he’d forgiven me for catfishing him. Those thoughts wrap themselves around my heart as Rena guides my chair to Ben’s car.
I use my crutches to make my way to the front passenger side, where Rena helps me into my seat. Ben loads my wheelchair into the trunk, then comes around and gets in, starting the car.
Rena’s working her phone. “Everyone’s headed to Danbury High.” She’s breathless. “We should go too, don’t you think?”
Ben’s hands grip and ungrip the wheel. Then he turns to me. “We should probably go home. Right?”
And I’m so torn. Part of me wants to be there, making certain Julian is okay. But the other part wants to get home so I can use my iPad to send messages. We were interrupted at the worst possible time. I want to be ready to see what he has to say about all this. When he’s done with this drama and ready to deal with our drama.
“Let’s go to Danbury. See what’s happening,” Rena answers for me.
As we head toward Danbury, I’m sort of excited to be part of this entire deal. We pass through the Danbury town square and Rena points. “Turn right at the light.”
It’s not hard to see where we are going; there’s a line of cars pulling into the high school ahead of us.
The trees blur by, and they conspire with the night sky to keep me in my head. I can almost believe that this is all part of a fantasy. But as we take the last turn toward the Danbury football field, I see my dreams literally go up in smoke. Our guys are on the grass and there are five fires climbing from the trash cans scattered around the perimeter.
“This is not good,” I say. There are too many people.
Ben parks the car and turns the ignition off. Around us, other cars park. Kids pile out. Our kids. Their kids, too. Soon, it’s a mob scene. My head swims, and I’m struggling. I can’t think of a single book or movie where someone set fire to something and it ended well. Dread socks me in the stomach. “We shouldn’t be here.”
Ben nods and starts the car back up. “We’ll just make things worse.”
I turn
to the back seat to tell Rena to put her seat belt back on, but she’s got this look of incredulity on her face, and her hand grips the door handle like a threat.
“Our boys will fight harder if they’re being watched. We all need to go home,” I say, but she isn’t listening. And even if she did, the others wouldn’t.
“I have to go,” she says. “I’ll find a ride home.” She climbs out of the car so fast neither Ben nor I can say anything to stop her.
The world goes in slow motion, and Ben turns the car back off. “This is not good,” he says. “This is not good.”
We’ve got to go after her. Only it’s not that easy, given my huge-assed leg cast and my CP. Ben helps me get into my wheelchair, and I grab my crutches too; even though this is an ultrarich high school, I never know what kind of nonsense I’ll find in terms of accessibility, which is insane considering it’s nowhere near the 1950s anymore. The cold night air slices through me, but the fear of Rena getting hurt pushes me forward. Ben runs. I motor and steer toward the sidewalk.
“Where’s the ramp?” I cry.
“Here, here.” Ben points the flashlight from his phone on the ground, and I rough ride up and over the bump of a curb. I practically tip over, but Ben catches me. “Calm down, you’re going to roll this thing.”
Normally the idea would be hysterical, but right now everything feels so…desperate. The kids around us on the pavement race to the field. The night is freezing, and there’s the sense of something dangerous in the air. I am powerless to stop Rena or Julian or any of it. I am powerless.
We pass a crowd of teens who must be from Danbury because they are in jeans and sweatshirts and winter coats while we are in our Homecoming clothes—definitely not made for the elements. Everyone’s shouting.
There’s a four-foot chain-link fence around the field and a row of hedges around that. If I’m going to get to the football field in this wheelchair, I’m going to have to go on the sidewalk and go all the way around. I watch the able-bodied kids climb the fence and urge my chair forward, but the battery is low on juice, and it’s not as fast as it usually is—as fast as I need it to be. Ben jogs next to me.
“Do you see her?” I ask. He’s got a much better view over the hedges than I do in my seated position.
He peeks above the bushes. “No. How could she have gotten away that fast?”
“It’s her superpower.”
I round the area where they take tickets and close in on the gates. My chair churns over the pavement, covered with blue paw prints for Danbury’s mascot, the Wildcats. Our hockey players are on the football field, which looks like a cage now. The sound of cars screeching into the parking lot makes me jump. God, I hope it’s the police.
Ben looks over his shoulder. “The Danbury players are here,” he says. “We need to get Rena and go.”
I couldn’t agree more. I make it onto the track surrounding the field just in time to see the Danbury players propelling themselves over the fence. It’s like a waterfall of anger. It doesn’t take me long to find Julian. He’s midfield. Bracing. His face is so angry, and I wonder why.
Ben points. “Found her.”
Rena stands near us on the edge of the field, huddled with a group of girls who have their arms wrapped around themselves, shivering. There’s one hockey player with them. Chip. Rena grabs him and talks to him so intently, I can feel the energy all the way over here. Julian locks eyes on me. I’m not exactly sure what emotions I expect to see, but I mostly see anger. He’s mad at me for being here? Wait. What?
Julian takes Rena by the arm. “Say goodbye to Chip.” His voice sounds like Eric’s—protective. Firm. Nonnegotiable. Julian walks her over to Ben and me.
Dave and Nate come over all agitated. “Come on, man, we need everyone.”
“Just a minute,” Julian says. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He bends down on one knee to talk to me. “I want to talk about tonight, but this isn’t the place.” His voice is all sharpness and rough edges, not the Julian voice I know. The grittiness gets to me and makes me nod.
“I get that. I’m sorry. We had to get her back.” My eyes shoot to Rena, who is arguing with Chip again. It’s so weird to see them together like that. How long has that been going on? “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Julian’s voice softens. “Please, I’m not mad. Just take Rena home.”
Behind him, two of Danbury’s players push one of ours. Julian’s face tightens. I can see he needs to go, and I’m torn between wanting him to come with me and knowing he can’t.
“Rena,” I call in my big-sister voice. “Rena, we need to go. Now.”
She shoots me a look filled with misery.
“Now.”
Chip takes her hand. “Let’s go,” he says.
With Chip and Julian as our escorts out of the chaos, we are finally, finally heading toward the car. The wind cuts right through me. My teeth start to chatter.
“We gotta get you home,” Julian urges.
“What’s the matter, Van Beck?” a guy calls from behind us. “A little girl trouble?”
Another guy says, “Ooooh.”
Julian ignores all of it and keeps walking next to me.
“What? You can’t hear me now? So you’re handicapped, too?”
The lights in the parking lot give enough illumination that I can see Julian’s jaw clench. His fists tighten. I will Julian to stay calm, but his head whips around. “What’s your problem, Anderson?”
Chip’s meaty paw goes on Julian’s shoulder. “He’s just trying to get in your head.”
Anderson jogs to get in front of us. “Leaving so soon?”
Julian’s eyes stay on the ground. He stands in front of my chair, like a shield.
“Look, you crashed our dance, we crashed your field. We’re even,” Chip says.
Rena’s eyes don’t leave him the entire time he’s talking. I squeeze her hand. Her breath fogs in front of her. I see her shiver, and I know it’s not just from the cold.
One of Anderson’s teammates catches up to us and throws his arm around him. “Let’s call it. No harm. No foul.”
Anderson spins. “We’re going to let these guys get away with this?”
His teammate says, “We’ll pay it back on the ice.”
“We’re going.” Dave whips his finger around in the air to tell everyone to get moving. The Danbury players go back toward the field. The one with his arm around Anderson lugs him back toward the other players.
For a tiny second I believe this is all going to be all right. The guys were mad. They came here and retaliated. All is equal. All is cool.
I let go of the huge breath that was trapped inside my chest. We are almost all the way to the parking lot when I hear Anderson call. “Hey, Van Beck? You think you’re better than I am?”
Julian keeps walking.
“I’m going to kick your ass next time we match up,” Anderson screams.
“You do that,” Julian shouts without turning around.
The car is about twenty feet away now. I push hard on the joystick that moves me forward as if my weakened electric wheelchair can outrun the trouble that’s coming for us.
Anderson yells, “At least I’m not dating a crip.”
Julian stops. I want to beg him to keep moving. To ignore the stupid comment. He’s standing next to me. His breath is coming out heavy now. He looks at me, but it’s like he’s not seeing me. “Let’s get you settled, Jenna,” he says.
And I breathe again and inside that breath is this small light of hope. I stare at the stars in the sky and speak to God. I don’t do this very often, but I need His help now. Please, God, please. Don’t let Julian be hurt. Let us be okay.
We get to the car. Ben pops the trunk. I hop out of my chair, and Julian lowers me into the seat.
“Crap,” Chip says. And I
can tell he’s having trouble folding my chair.
Tears run down my face. I shiver. This is going to turn bad. I know this. I’ve watched enough movies to know this. I’ve read enough books. I know this. I. Know. This.
Rena gets out of the car to help Chip. “It goes like this.”
Please God. Please. I’d give anything, anything if this could be okay. I’d give up being one of the thirty-six saints. I’d give up everything. I’d give up Julian if everything could just be okay. If he could be.
“Start the car,” Julian instructs.
But all of this is taking too long. Everything is moving so slow now. We are moving so slow. It starts to rain. Icy drops that send kids screaming to their cars.
The trunk slams.
Ben turns the key, and the car jumps to life. He flips the vents to high, so the heat will get to me.
“What’s the matter? Truth hurts?” Anderson calls, and I hear the other Danbury players trying to calm him down.
Eric has always told me that hockey is filled with rivalry. Fueled by it, really. That “one man can only live if the other one dies” sort of rivalry. But this seems more than that. This feels dangerous. Hopeless, because I know that this Anderson person is not going to stop. Not until Julian takes the bait. I taste salt. We caused this by coming here.
Julian kneels. Our eyes meet, and in his gaze I can see the desire to hold on to this moment, to not be sucked into the insanity that’s headed for him, but also the realization that he’s not going to be able to. “Just go home,” he says. “I’ll text you later.”
“I’m just saying it’s kind of sick. You know?” Anderson is directly behind Julian now.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “It doesn’t matter.”
With the pad of his thumb, he wipes the tears off my face. He closes my thin wrap. “I had such a good time with you at the dance. I’m glad you came.”
I grab his hand. “Let’s leave together. Now. We can finish the night on our terms.”
“If you’re done with her, maybe I could have a go?” Anderson says. “Maybe when I’m done with her, she’ll be able to walk right.”
Julian’s face tightens. I try to hold on to him, but he pulls his hand from mine, closes my door, and he’s gone.