Sell Out (14 page)

I understood that he was protecting me. I was protecting him too. “Let’s get you better first. Then we’ll see who can be invited into our little world.”

My dad caressed my hair like he did when I was little and scared of the boogeyman. “Not everyone will betray you. At some point, you have to start trusting outsiders again.”

“Yeah, like Ricky did with his girlfriend who photoshopped you with a stripper? Think about it. One word to the media, and your cancer will be the hottest news on TV. Not to mention Facebook and Twitter.”

My dad cringed. “I miss the days before the Internet.”

I wouldn’t know. The Internet had been the enemy my entire life.

I
f Skylar’s idea
of earning my song meant torture and agony, then she succeeded. Somehow lunch had become three of us, with me being the third wheel.

“Where’s Chugger?” I asked.

“He needed tutoring this afternoon.” Blake reached up and moved Skylar’s hair off her shoulder. She startled, and he quickly added, “It was getting in your food.”

I forced my eyes off his hands, reminding myself to play the game. “Since when does Chugger need tutoring? He’s a boy genius.”

Blake shrugged. “I’m not his keeper. Maybe he’s with Henry. They do have Western Lit together.” He reached out, his hand hovering over my fries. “You done?”

I pushed the tray over with more force than intended. Something was off. Chugger hanging with Henry? Not in this lifetime.

“And Zoe? Doesn’t she usually eat with you guys?” Not that I liked her. At all. But this situation felt way too constructed.

Skylar picked small pieces from her sandwich. “She wasn’t feeling good. Went home after second period.”

“Did you hear Clearview is ranked number two this year? Some talk that they could beat us.” Blake mashed the stolen fries in his ketchup.

“Not a chance.” My tension eased slightly. I could talk wrestling. Wresting was safe.

Blake snorted. “That’s what I said.” He turned to Skylar, offered one of his smiles that often resulted in rosy cheeks and giggles. “What about you, beautiful? You gonna come watch us sweep the state this year?”

Sure enough, her skin flushed, marred the softness in her face. She glanced my way; a motion Blake didn’t miss. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

The silence became strained, edgy. I stood, my momentum so abrupt, the chair screeched against the tile and wobbled. I couldn’t sit there and not look into those eyes. And if I looked into those eyes, Blake would know I wasn’t playing by the rules.

“You’re leaving?” Skylar scanned the empty seats around us. The hurt and confusion on her face were even worse than this morning when I ignored her during first period.

“Yeah. There’s something I’ve got to do.”

“See ya around, man,” Blake said. I sensed his approval, as if I’d just realized this was all some grand scheme to get Skylar alone. Knowing Blake, that was exactly what it was.

I pushed through the cafeteria doors with frustration. Nowhere to go and twenty minutes left for lunch. Without thinking, I stomped toward the gym. Weights, pain, sweat. Those were all things I could control.

A soft sob echoed on the other side of the basketball court, and I froze. It was a girl’s cry, but Fatty James still burst from the crevices of my mind. His wails were always the loudest.

I moved toward the sound of whimpering.

Lindsay sat crumpled in the corner outside the girl’s locker room, her face buried in her knees.

Run, run, run.
I crouched and gentled my voice. “Something happen?”

“I’m on the Torments List. I hadn’t looked at it in so long that I never realized…” She wiped at tears that wouldn’t stop. “I’ve probably been on there for weeks.”

Chugger’s comment popped in my mind.
The List
. The one he said I was better off not knowing about. “What’s the Torments List?”

She took out her phone and started tapping. She zoomed in, put in a password and handed it to me.

I’d never seen the website, but it was clearly for Madison. Our crest was on the banner with the title. Five discussion threads were available, each with someone’s name on it. I recognized Lindsay’s, and the sophomore girl who bashed Toby, but not the other three.

A suffocating pressure built in my chest with each comment I read. They were cruel and disgusting. Lily, the sophomore, had twenty comments about the chocolate milk plan. Date, time, what to say after it happened. How long to moo at her when she walked down the hall. All planned. All calculated viciousness that would hurt her for years.

I looked up, my throat so tight I couldn’t swallow. “How did you know about this?”

“I’ve known since we started high school.” Her face fell as if a judge declared her guilty. “You were on the Torments List for a long time. Up until you made the wrestling team.” She turned away. “They posted pictures of what happened to you.”

The pressure was now constricting my airway. I pushed a palm hard against my sternum to ease the gripping pain. All those years I’d suffered. All those nights I’d lay in bed and wondered why people hated me so much. All those times I hated myself. All because of a stupid list. Some teenage joke taken too far.

“Whose site is this?” I choked out the words, tried to push away the memories.

Her shoulders rose and fell. “No one knows. It’s been around forever. If you’re chosen, a password is texted to you from the site, anonymously. Anyone can post within the threads, but it’s a mystery who adds or deletes the names.”

I continued to read through the filth until Lindsay put her hand on my arm and squeezed. Her light touch and anxious eyes showed the sacrifice. I’d never seen her touch anyone but Blake. “I’m sorry, Cody. If I ever made you feel…like this.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. But nothing felt okay. Everything felt like pounding misery. I handed back the phone. “I’m telling Principal Rayburn. He’d never let this continue.”

Her voice lowered, hushed and serious. “You can’t. It’s been turned in before. They simply take down the site, and then it pops up again on another domain with new passwords. The last guy who turned it in ended up withdrawing from school.” She shook her head. “It’s not worth it.”

“We have to do something.”

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, defeat showing in the set of her shoulders. “What can we do? It’s the Internet.”

I
parked my
Mustang in one of the three spots left in the school parking lot and tried to focus on the positives: Friday. Date night.

Because the negatives were piling up.

Daddy hadn’t come out of his room last night or this morning. Cody hadn’t sent me a text in two days or even talked to me with more than a few grunts. And Zoe was pushing me to go on another group date with Blake, her and Chugger.

I grabbed my backpack, did a quick makeup check and barely slid into my seat before the first period bell rang.

Ms. Yarnell gave me “the look” and defeat ripped through my shoulders.

Great
.

I blew a piece hair out of my face and faced the three boys at my table.

The sight of Cody’s disheveled brown hair made my heart ache. The guy was strikingly handsome and didn’t even know it. A tight gray t-shirt pulled against his chest under an unzipped hoodie. His clothing choices were simple, a complete contrast to the complexity of his personality. Cody had become my obsession, my fascination and my misery all at the same time.

“Hey,” I said with a longing I couldn’t hide.

Cody studied some non-existent spot on the table. “Morning.”

His flat, aloof tone worsened my foul mood.

Blake scooted his chair closer to mine. “Blue is definitely your color. You sure I can’t talk you into coming with me tonight?” He, too, was beautiful, but the appeal ended there. And even with our new “friends” talk, I didn’t want to be alone with him.

“Nope. Fridays are off limits. Sorry.”

Ms. Yarnell began her lecture and our conversation ceased.

Blake’s hot breath brushed my neck. “Saturday, then?” he whispered.

His closeness made me want to cringe, and I wondered if he’d always been this annoying and why I didn’t see it before. “Maybe another weekend?”

His hand brushed mine. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Great
. As far as blow-off lines go, that was the most ineffective one ever.

When the lecture ended, Cody passed the discussion sheet to Blake. “Your turn.”

Blake slid the paper between us. “Why don’t you help me with this today since you struggled last time.”

Chugger snickered, but didn’t say anything.

I looked up at Cody, and the frustration and confusion I’d felt all morning crushed me further. If emptiness could be an expression, Cody had mastered the art.

“Do what you want,” he said, avoiding eye contact with me.

Heat inched up my neck and into my cheeks. He was dismissing me…again. And worse, he practically gave Blake a green light to move closer.

The minutes dragged on forever, but finally the bell rang. I bolted. Needing space. Needing my dad. Needing Cody to stop being so frustrating.

Zoe watched as I furiously shoved books into my locker. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”
My world has exploded and no one cares
.

She flinched. “Okay, fine. Sorry I asked.” With a slam of her own locker, Zoe walked away.

Remorse seeped in. I was spewing my bad mood over everyone.

I ducked into a corner and pulled out my phone. My father’s voicemail answered.

“Hi, Daddy, I just wanted to say good morning. I missed seeing you. I hope you are feeling better. I’ll be home around four-thirty, and we can plan our night together. Nothing big. We can just lay around if that’s all you’re up for.” I let my hand fall to my side and refused to consider a life without him. He’d win. He had to.

The empty halls matched the hollowness in my heart, bringing tears past my dam of denial. I ran down the hall to the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and buried my head in my knees.

I kept it there until I could breathe.

*

I stood outside
my father’s bedroom and knocked lightly. “Daddy? I’m home.”

A loud bang like something was dropped and hushed voices were the only response. I knocked again, harder this time. “Daddy, are you okay?” I checked the knob. Locked. I smacked the wood with both hands. “Daddy. Let me in! Let me in!” I screamed as panic clawed up my spine.

The door opened, and I stepped back. Aunt Josephine. She slowly closed the door behind her and stood there like a guard at Buckingham Palace. “Skylar, your father is very sick. He’s not going to be up for anything tonight.”

Adrenaline pumped though my bloodstream. I wanted to hurt her, which should have made me feel guilty, but didn’t. “You’re always doing this. You’re always trying to keep us apart.” I pushed forward, but she gripped my shoulders, halting me.

“I’m not doing this. The cancer is. And you have to accept that things will not be what they used to be.”

I detangled myself from her hold. “You don’t think I know that? My entire life is different! I just want to make sure he’s okay.” I was so angry her face faded out and then came back into focus. My breath was broken and loud like a bull released from its pen.

She must have noticed because for a moment, she hesitated. I thought she might move and let me see my father. But instead her voice turned firmer. “I’m sorry, Skylar, but he doesn’t want you to see him like this.”

I flexed my hands, then squeezed them, hiding the way they trembled. He wanted her. Not me. Trusted her. Not me. And I knew my aunt well enough to know she’d fall dead before letting me pass. I darted back to my room and slammed the door. Throwing myself on the bed, I let all the rage come out, with loud, ugly sobs. Shoulders shaking, I curled into a ball. I tried to pray, tried to understand the cruelty of this test God was putting me through. I found no clarity. No relief.

Tears soon gave way to exhaustion, and I fell asleep only to be startled awake two hours later by a new text.

Cody:
You okay? You seemed upset all day.

Me:
I’m surprised you noticed, with ignoring me and all.

My snootiness should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I set down the phone and walked into the bathroom to clean up. The skin around my eyes was red and puffy. The only mascara not smudged on my pillow was smeared across my face. I splashed cold water until my skin was clear and then returned to my phone. I was too tired to play games tonight.

Cody:
I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. My head’s a mess right now.

Me:
Yeah. Mine too.

Cody:
Maybe this will help.

Seconds later, a new song appeared in our conversation. I played it, letting the electric guitar and powerful lyrics offer an escape.

Cody:
Forgive me?

I wanted to stay mad at Cody, but I just didn’t have the energy for it, especially when he sent me songs that tore into my heart like a bulldozer. The air began to thin, the heavy burden getting lighter. I’d grown up around music. It was part of my culture, as essential as water. My father had instilled in me a love for the classics and a respect for any artist who could make a guitar sing. Then again, my father was considered one of the greatest guitar players in the world.