A few people laughed, the circle tightening. Hot tears burned behind my eyes and I refused to blink.
“What about you, Boswell? What would you do for a dollar?” Vince grabbed his crotch and rocked his pelvis, showing off his best “O” face for the crowd.
If I walked away now, the crowd would part for me, even if they did laugh behind my back. But I refused to turn my back on Vince and let him have that satisfaction. Instead, I stepped toward him. “Let me by,” I said as firmly as I could. If he laid one finger on me, I’d have him expelled. He didn’t move and I took another step forward, into him. His hand twitched.
“Don’t touch me,” I warned.
His breath was hot on my face as he peeled another bill from the stack. “I hear your mom charges extra for that too.”
I stiffened, ready to tell him to go to hell, but someone yanked me back. The laughter died and a hush fell as Reece stepped between us.
“Leave her alone,” Reece said quietly.
TJ’s hand rested on Vince’s shoulder and he spoke into Vince’s ear. “Come on, man. You don’t want to do this.”
Vince jerked his arm, dislodging TJ’s grip and making him stumble. TJ righted himself and took a step back, and I knew he wouldn’t try to hold Vince back again.
A whisper rolled through the crowd, the air thick and electric between them as Vince’s eyes flicked from Reece to me, and then back again.
“No shit, Whelan. Is Nearly A Virgin your new girlfriend? I didn’t realize charity work was a requirement of your parole.” Low whistles rose over muffled laughter. Someone shoved me into Reece’s back.
Reece balled his fists.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered to his shoulder, too short to speak into his ear. I tugged his sleeve. He didn’t move.
“You owe Leigh an apology,” he said in a tightly controlled voice.
“That’s pretty fucking chivalrous, Whelan. You’re a real gentleman. Does that mean you haven’t done her yet?”
Reece’s fist shot out and Vince’s head snapped back. I was pitched forward as teachers shoved their way through the mass and grabbed Reece’s and Vince’s tangled bodies from behind. Faculty shouted orders, but the crowd had erupted into chaos.
“DiMorello! Whelan!” Principal Romero and two security guards clawed their way into the nucleus. Romero’s face was red, a map of forking purple veins. “In my office! Now!”
Faculty ordered everyone to return to class. Vince sneered at me with bloody teeth and dropped the twenties at my feet as security herded him through the crowd. I didn’t pick them up. A shoulder bumped against me, and I looked up into Reece’s expressionless face as security marched him past.
He didn’t even look at me, his words cold enough to burn.
“I hope you’re worth it.”
15
I took my sandwich and retreated under a willow on the quieter side of school. The branches dipped low enough to brush the dirt and concealed me in a veil of green shadows. But I knew Jeremy would find me. The same way he’d found me that Friday morning at the train station two years ago, when I ran away, determined to find my father after a particularly bad argument with Mona.
I hadn’t called Jeremy. Never told him where I was going or why. I had just taken my ticket from the counter and turned to see Jeremy’s face, standing in line behind me, a duffel over his shoulder and his wallet in his hand.
“What are you doing here?” I’d asked him.
He’d replied, “I’m going with you.” And in that moment, everything changed. Finding my father—figuring out who David Boswell really was—didn’t seem to matter as much as the fact that Jeremy was there. He’d stay with me, no matter what it cost him, even if his father beat him for it. And I couldn’t leave him any more than I could take him with me.
As if stepping out of my memory, Jeremy parted the willow branches and eased down into the grass. I smiled, tears brimming over again, and I wiped them with my sleeve.
“Are you crying?” He wore a surprised expression. Like he’d never seen me cry before.
I blew my nose on a torn corner of my lunch sack. “It’s been known to happen.”
Jeremy sat close, our arms and legs not quite touching. “I heard about Vince.”
“I guess everyone heard, huh?” I rested my chin on my knees. A warm breeze blew over the campus, rustling new leaves and scattering cut grass over the sidewalks.
“They say”—Jeremy leaned in close—“they, of course being the collective unconscious of the West River populous—that you beat the crap out of him. That you gave him a bloody lip and wiped the floor with his ass.”
I gave him a playful shove. “Vince did get a bloody lip, but it wasn’t from me. He mouthed off to Reece Whelan. Reece got one good shot in.” I wouldn’t begrudge myself a little smug satisfaction, even if Reece’s parting words had cut deeper than anything Vince said about my mother.
“I know. It’s all over school, how Prince Pierced-A-Lot came to your rescue.” Jeremy put his hand to his head and went limp against my shoulder, a mock swoon. “How’d it feel to be the damsel in distress?”
“Shut up.” I knocked his knee with my own. “What else did you hear?”
“Just that Vince got off with a warning. He didn’t throw a punch and administration doesn’t want to screw up his spotless athletic record . . .”
I threw my bag lunch into the dirt. In the school’s eyes, as long as Vince DiMorello scored goals, he could do no wrong. No one cared that he was showing naked pictures of my mother or picking fights in the hall. They refused to see him as a criminal, but I knew better. Vince DiMorello was as evil as his twisted bloody smile.
“Whelan got a week of suspension and a one-strikeyou’re-out warning.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the bark, letting that bombshell sink in. A week of suspension. I should have been happy, thrilled even, to have Reece off my back for an entire week. But I couldn’t shake off a sense of guilt.
We sprung him . . . for good behavior . . . cut him a deal . . . stays in school and keeps his nose clean . . .
I felt sick. If Reece had been expelled, he’d end up back in jail. And—underlying motives or not—he’d fought Vince because of me.
I hope you’re worth it.
Jeremy’s elbow knocked mine, drawing my attention as he drew up his sleeve. He flexed a wiry bicep.
“You know, if I had been there, I would have taken care of Vince for you.”
I arched a weary eye. If Jeremy had been there, we’d have suffered the verbal smack-down together. Vince was an equalopportunity destroyer.
“Seriously,” he insisted, holstering his pathetic guns. “I’d have challenged him to a spelling bee. Total jock obliteration. I’d have been ruthless in defense of your honor.” He pressed a fist over his heart and tipped his head to mine.