Anne & Henry (22 page)

His face pales, but he doesn't let up. He's not the type. My hand presses against his throat, tight enough so there's a semicircle of white skin encircling my fingertips.

“Henry, what's gotten into you?” Catherine says, tugging at my biceps. “Stop this. Stop it now. Why are you throwing everything away for her?”

I am precariously close to punching my best friend in the face, but I'm aware of the small crowd gathering behind us, the hushed whispers. A school fight would be a direct violation not only of council rules, but also Medina Academy's Code of Conduct. I can't take expulsion on top of house arrest.

I loosen the grip around John's neck. Drop my hands.

He adjusts his shirt, his jacket, rubs at the red line across his throat. “Keep on moving, people,” he says, addressing the students milling around us like paparazzi, anxious for even one nugget of gossip. He flashes one of those signature crazy-ass grins. “Henry's boning up on his tackling moves. He's out of practice.”

As the last of the stragglers disappear into a classroom,
Catherine steps between us, using her body as a shield. I thrust myself against a locker to avoid her touch and bash my elbow.

“Are we done with this crap?” she says, glancing at me, then John, then back at me. She presses her lips together as though deep in thought. “Look Henry, she's not who you think she is.”

“Right, like I should trust you.”

No matter how confused and angry I am, I know Anne doesn't deserve this shit.

A nervous glance passes between Catherine and John. Catherine opens her mouth, but John holds up his hand, pretending to be chivalrous, like he should be the one to deliver the news.

“Word is, she gets around,” he says.

Anger fills me. “I'd expect this kind of bullshit from her,” I say, jerking my thumb at Catherine. “But bowing down to gossip? That's not your style, John.”

“Just listen,” Catherine says. “What do you know about her? The person she was before she came to Medina?”

I try to ignore the questions, but Catherine's touched on a nerve. Anne's confession has been on my mind the past couple of days, and I'm ashamed to admit, I've been looking for gaps in her story. Something she left out. It's not that I don't believe her. . . . Fuck. Maybe I do have a tinge of doubt.

I shake my head and scowl. Anne didn't lie—not about
that. And questioning her, when she's not here to defend herself, makes me no better than her sister's asshole boyfriend.

“I've had enough,” I say. “I gotta get to class.”

I start walking but John blocks my path. Looks me dead straight in the eyes. “I know you're too wrapped up in her to see it, but she's a straight-up whore, man.”

Fire erupts in my chest and I clamp my teeth together to stop from roaring. My tone is low and menacing, dangerous and slow. “Shut. The hell. Up.”

John takes a step back. It's enough to avoid a punch, but I'm not opposed to lunging forward and dropping him to the ground. Consequences be damned, this time I won't stop. “You don't want to push me,” I say.

The
click-clack
of heels echoes down the hallway and the vice principal emerges in the distance, taps her wrist. Her voice sing-songs its ways to us. “You're late, my pets.”

She keeps walking, but the interruption is enough for me to catch my bearings.

“We've been friends a long time, bro,” John says, calmer now. “You know I want what's best for you. Maybe this wasn't the right way.”

“You're still pissed because she burned you off. Get over it,
bro
.” My voice lowers to a growl. “Unless you can't.” A lightbulb goes off in my head. “That's it, isn't it? You've got a thing for her.”

John averts his gaze. “No, but I think she's got something for me.”

“Keep dreaming, asshole,” I spit out. “She's way out of your league.”

John lifts his chin. “Think what you want, but the things she says to me. Shit, man, it's harsh.” He makes a face of disgust, curls his lip. “She's always rubbing up against me, talking about sex. We have chemistry together.”

My expression changes and John holds up his hands again. “Class, man. We have chemistry
class
together.”

“I've seen it too,” Catherine says. “She's got eyes on him. And others. You can deny it all you want, Henry, but you're covering up her mistakes while she's stringing you along like a puppy. Sooner or later, she'll betray you.”

A knot forms in my chest. “You're both off base,” I say, but some of the conviction is gone. I can't help but think about what went down with Anne's sister, and it makes me feel like shit. Because as much as I want to believe her, there's a sliver of doubt. “She's confident. That doesn't make her a whore.”

Catherine tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “There's a difference between innocent teasing and—”

“I'm not buying it,” I say, louder now.

“We just want you to be careful,” John says. “You've known her, what? A couple of months? You've already thrown yourself on your sword for her. Is she worth it? You
could've gotten a DUI, man. You think guys with DUIs win elections?”

Another piece of my resolve crumbles. It's so easy to believe John's jealous, or just following Catherine's lead—he's always had a crush on her. My best friend's no angel, but this confrontation goes against everything I know about him.

He steps closer. “Come on, Henry. You see it, right? You're ditching events, lying to your mom, to your friends.” He pats his chest. “To me.” I open my mouth to say something, but John doesn't stop. “You show up for practice, but you're not even there. She's, like, bewitched you.”

Confusion blurs my focus. I scour memories of the past few weeks, the last couple of days, searching for clues that they're right, some indication that I've been blind to a giant neon-red flag. But even Anne's confession about Mary isn't enough for me to give up on her. Deep down I want to believe her. I have to. Because without trust, what's left?

“Give us a chance to show you,” Catherine says. “We're not asking you to break up with her. Just let us prove to you that she isn't right for you. When you've seen the evidence . . .”

“There won't be any, because she's not who you think,” I say. But a sliver of doubt has sliced through my shield and is worming its way into my confidence. I push it back. “You won't find anything.”

“Maybe that's true,” John says, and tilts his head. “If so, I'll be first in line to apologize.”

“Me too,” Catherine says.

“Fine,” I say, voice tight. “But when you come back with nothing, that's the end of it. Right? You'll give it a rest and accept her?”

“Deal,” John says. “We'll all welcome her with open arms.”

Catherine nods, and for the moment, I trust them, hoping they truly want what's best for me. And yet as I watch their retreating forms, I can't figure out why the weight around my heart refuses to lift.

M
y stomach is twisted, all tied up in knots, wondering if I'll see Henry, scared that I won't. It's been a week since everything went from so right to so horribly wrong.

I'm convinced he won't be there, that he's already given up on me, when I spot him. He's leaning up against my locker, looking helpless and hopeless, as messed up as me.

I start walking faster and almost crash into his chest.

“Anne,” Henry says so soft it's almost a whisper. His hand winds into my hair and pulls me close. I'm breathless and weightless, desperate and raw. His lips graze my mouth, and my body turns to liquid.

“You never came to see me,” I say, when he pulls away. I've spent hours staring at the ceiling, waiting and crying, dreaming of going back to that moment, when everything was—

Perfect.

Henry nuzzles his chin into my hair, kisses the top of my head. “I wanted to,” he says. “At first I was furious—what we did, Anne . . .”

“Was stupid,” I say.

He nods as though waiting for me to say more, to explain why I acted so out of control. I try to shut out the guilt. I'm not ready to tell him what my mother said, how she thinks I'm to blame for Mary. A part of me is scared Henry thinks so too.

“I've been grounded all week,” Henry says, and runs his hand though his hair. “Shit. That makes it sound like she took away my teddy bear or something.”

I know without him saying, he's lost a lot more. “You shouldn't have taken the fall for me,” I say. “I'm not worth—”

Henry silences me with a kiss. It's tender and potent, erasing some of the fear and the doubt.

“I did what I needed to do for you, for us,” he says, drawing me into his arms. “This will blow over.” He pulls back a little, looks into my eyes. “But it can't happen again.” His tone is stern. “I can't afford another mistake.” He wraps his arms around me. Holds on so tight I could burst. “Jesus, I've missed you.”

I nod, because there are no words here that work, and wipe away the tears with the back of my hand.

“How long until your mom cuts you loose?” I finally say.

“Tonight—if I'm good,” he says. At my raised eyebrow, he shrugs. “I'm having dinner with a Harvard guy. To make up for missing—”

“The event you skipped when we were at the theater,” I say. I flash back to our first kiss and my jaw hurts from smiling so wide.

Henry kisses the tip of my nose. “I'd do it again.” He waggles his eyebrows. “And again.”

Henry opens my locker, peering inside with a sheepish grin. He pulls out a bouquet of wilted flowers. “I wasn't sure when you'd be back,” he says. “I picked these a few days ago.”

“From the courtyard?” I say with a smirk.

He shrugs. “Best I could do with my limited resources.”

“They're perfect.” I kiss his blushing cheek. “You're perfect.”

The bell chimes and Henry presses a mass of paper into my hand. “I wrote a letter for every day we couldn't talk,” he says. “Toward the end they get a bit cheesy.”

By the time I hit class, I've read them all through. He's right. Some are cheesy. But I don't care. I've soaked in every word. Through them, my understanding of his feelings—the worry, confusion, frustration, even anger—deepens.

Now, as the class erupts in the chaos of prelunch socialization, a silhouette falls across my desk. I know without looking it's Marie—her presence is an ominous cloud, a shadow of foreboding. I've heard more of the rumors and know she's one of the girls behind them.

I stare at my open textbook, doodle in the margins. When I stop, the pen bleeds ink onto the page.

Finally, I look up. Marie is flanked by two henchwomen, Liz and some girl I've never met.

“Anne, darling, we'd love to chat,” she says.

“Thanks, I'll pass,” I say, gathering my textbooks. My hip catches on the edge of the desk as I stand, too rushed to get away. Pain spiderwebs across my midsection. The doctors have stopped worrying about my head, but the rest of my body has yet to fully heal.

“I think you'll change your mind,” Marie says. She takes a step closer, so close I can see the outline of her bra through her thin white blouse. “Do you know what people are saying about you?”

“Because I care?” I swallow the little white lie, stuff it down so far it disappears in the pit of my stomach. The classroom is empty now and it's just the four of us in the room.

“Bet you'd care if Henry knew,” Marie says.

I pull my books into my chest. “Henry doesn't listen to gossip.”

“Maybe not now,” she says. “But the rumors will just poke and poke.” She thrusts her finger at me and almost touches my arm, punctuating her point. “Everything you do will be under close scrutiny. You won't be able to cough without someone telling Henry you've caught mono.”

“The once innocent gossip will transform into lies,” Liz chimes in.

Marie perches on the edge of my desk. “And the lies just keep growing and growing until—”

“Henry snaps,” the nameless girl says, ending the sentence with a cluck of her tongue.

“He's not like that,” I say, though my voice trembles a little, betraying my doubt.

Guilt creeps under my skin. It's because of me his life has become stressful. With Catherine, he had acceptance, approval, solid footing. I've brought him nothing but trouble.

“It's not too late,” Marie says. She reaches out toward me and rests her hand on my forearm. I resist the urge to flinch, to pull away. “There's still time for you to change what people are saying about you.”

I choke on impossibility. “How?”

Liz shrugs her shoulders. “By hanging out with us, for starters,” she says. “Instead of avoiding us, join the group.”