When my dad finally decided his interrogation was finished, he stood to clear the table. Cody gathered his plate and silverware and offered to help. I noticed he had eaten very little since my dad dropped the ESMOD bomb.
“It’s a school night,” my dad reminded him. “Best you get on home.”
“Oh, okay. Yes, sir.” Cody’s voice cracked and his ears reddened.
My dad stood between the kitchen and our exit, shoulders square, legs spread, arms crossed. His attempt at intimidation made me want to burst into laughter. I couldn’t believe it was working on Cody, but the constant hands in and out of his pockets spoke volumes.
“Cody. It was good talking to you.” My father’s hand shot out, clasping Cody’s again. “You understand that Skylar is my life. You hurt her and I will personally end yours.”
“Dad!”
Cody’s eyes practically overtook his face as my father squeezed his hand harder. They were close to the same height, my dad having only an inch on Cody, but in that moment, my dad resembled the gun-toting robot from
The Terminator
.
“I understand, sir. Skylar is an amazing girl, and I would feel exactly the same way if I were her father.”
That seemed to appease my dad and made me want to smother Cody with kisses. With his hand free, Cody nodded toward the foyer. I nudged my dad, getting him to let us pass and then walked Cody to the door.
“When were you going to tell me about Paris?” he whispered, barely touching me.
“I wasn’t. I can’t see past next week let alone next year.”
“Is that how you feel about me, too?”
“What? No. Of course not.” I reached out, put my hand on his arm. The muscles were tense, the bump of a vein hard against my fingertips. I’d never seen Cody so upset. He was generally the epitome of calm and controlled.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I lengthened the word, wanting to say more, but not in range of my dad’s prying ears.
The tension fell from Cody’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me know what your dad says about Greensboro.” With a platonic squeeze to my arm, he disappeared behind the door.
I spun around to glare at my father. “Was that necessary?”
He walked toward me, concern etched in the lines that spread from his eyes. “Yes. And after seeing the way you two look at each other, this next conversation is necessary too.” He pointed to the formal couch in the great room, the one with claw legs and hard cushions that he knew I hated. “Sit.”
I rolled my eyes but did as he commanded. He took a seat on the coffee table in front of me, studying my face with disappointment. “How serious is this?”
My finger moved to my mouth, my teeth gnawing my recently polished nail. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he practically spit out his food when I said Paris. This kid thinks you two have a future together.”
When he eyed my half-chewed nail, I quickly dropped my hand. “Maybe we do. I like him. A lot.”
He took a deep breath and clasped his hands. “Okaaay.” He said the word as if he was already thinking about his next statement. “In that case, it’s time we have the sex talk.”
The blood drained from my face.
“I know your tutor discussed the mechanics with you, so we won’t do that, but I doubt you understood hormones or desires at that point.”
I wanted to die. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide under the table my father sat on.
“Teenage boys think about sex a lot.”
“Daddy, please stop.” My mortification was met with equal discomfort.
“Do you think this is easy for me, Skylar? You don’t think I wish your mother was here to have this chat? But she isn’t, so I’m what you’ve got.”
I put my head in my hands, shaking it back and forth in hopes of removing the sound of my father’s words as he continued to discuss a boy’s hormonal mind.
“The point is, Skylar, if a boy thinks he can get sex, he will more than likely try to. Especially if he likes a girl as much as Cody obviously likes you. So, it’s important you let him know right away that you have boundaries and what they are. A good guy will respect them, and a guy who doesn’t needs to be dropped.”
“Okay, I got it. Can I go now?”
He went on as if I never spoke. “I know your generation takes sex lightly, thinks the idea of waiting for marriage is archaic. God doesn’t give commands to torture us. He gives them to protect us.”
My father removed my hands from my face, replacing them with his, so he could look into my eyes.
“This is important. I saw the way you touched, the familiarity that’s there. As your closeness grows, you will continue to move forward physically. You need to understand that when sex enters a relationship, the relationship changes, and you can’t take it back.”
Despite my absolute loathing of the conversation, I took pity on father. “I understand. And I do plan to wait ’til I’m married.”
He sighed with relief, looking as if he aged ten years during that conversation. “Good.” One hand fell away. The other stroked my cheek. “You’ve grown into a smart and beautiful woman. You’re almost eighteen, and the truth is, if you wanted to take the next step, there is little I can do or say to stop you. But I do hope you wait.”
“I will. Now can we
please
stop talking about this?”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
I stood, ready to leave the room.
“Skylar?”
I froze, wincing at what else my father could possibly say to me.
“If you want to go this weekend, you can. Just, please, promise me you won’t put yourself in a situation where you’re alone with no accountability. Hormones tend to trump good intentions.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you! And I promise. No compromising situations.”
I practically danced up the stairs while I texted.
Me:
Get ready to kick some butt. I’m going to Greensboro!
“Y
ou’re awful chipper
this morning,” Lindsay said as she turned the knob on her combination lock. She wore all black again, covering every possible inch of skin, and it bugged me. She used to wear bright colors and dresses.
“I met Skylar’s dad last night.”
“Yeah? How’d that go?”
I shuddered, remembering. “Terrifying, but he did say Skylar could go to the Super 32, so the threats were worth it.”
Her lips tipped up a centimeter, which is more than they’d done in a week. I counted it a positive. “Getting serious, I see. Way to go.”
She was my biggest cheerleader when it came to Skylar. It seemed to make her feel better, being able to focus on someone’s life besides her own.
I leaned back against the lockers. “I’m way past serious.”
A flash of green caught my eye as at least a hundred fake one-dollar bills fell out of Lindsay’s locker. I picked one up. Both sides were marred with blood red marker that read, “WHORE.”
My muscles tightened like ropes stretched to their breaking point. “This has to stop. You have to say something.” I glanced toward her locker and saw a metal stick made to look like a stripper’s pole wedged in there as well.
“It’s fine.” She pulled out the offending piece and tossed it into the nearest trash can. “I’d rather this than the phone calls.”
“What phone calls?”
“At least ten a day. I swear I’ve blocked a million numbers.” She didn’t elaborate, but I could only imagine.
Squatting down, she frantically scooped up the bills lining the floor in front of her locker.
I crouched next to her and stopped her manic cleanup. “Lindsay, who has your locker combination?”
Her movement stilled and teary eyes met mine. “I don’t know. Who had yours? Don’t you see? It’s never going to stop.”
“It will if you would just tell someone.” The chill in my voice was a small reflection of the anger coursing through me. I wanted to scream, punch and kick the locker, do anything to stop her being a target of this hatred.
“What? Like you did sophomore year?”
I hated that she knew. That she had been a part of the Torments List’s exclusive group and had seen the pictures. “That was different.”
“How?”
I was suddenly in that dark locker room again, the cold floor hard against my naked back. Helpless. Hopeless. Pain gripped my chest, and I willed the image away. I never told a soul. Never turned in the guy who terrorized me for years. “Because I won’t let it happen again. I won’t cower to another bully.”
Lindsay touched my arm. “Please, Cody. Don’t say anything. It will just get worse.”
Obnoxious laughter came from above, and some kid I didn’t recognize stood over us, his arms crossed. “I heard this is where we come for lap dances. I guess I’ll have to get in line.”
Lindsay disappeared in my furious haze. So did the fluorescent lights that flickered and the squeak of shoes pounding down the halls. Only his laughter remained. Laughter that matched the echoes in the locker room. Laughter that stopped the minute my fist struck his jaw.
The world returned in a flash of sound. Screams from the students, yells from teachers, but I kept pounding, pounding, pounding. The memory of that laughter banging around in my head like a wrecking ball.
Strong arms trapped mine, pulling me off the bloody kid who was now writhing in pain. My eyes began to focus, first landing on Lindsay’s terrified, tear-streaked face. Then on Blake who appeared out of nowhere. His smirk was subtle, victorious. The quiet, the calm. It’d been a trap. He slid to the right, pushing through a crowd until he found his goal.
Skylar.
She watched with horror, glancing from me to the bloody boy, then from me to Lindsay.
I lunged when Blake whispered something in her ear and pulled her out of the crowd.
No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.
“That’s enough!” Principal Rayburn hissed before pushing me toward his office. “I told you I’d make an example of you if you pulled another stunt. Well, congratulations, Mr. James, you officially have my attention.”
“They put a stripper pole in her locker.” He pushed me through the hall with more strength than I expected. “They called her a whore.”
We went right past the receptionist and into his office. He shoved me into the blasted wooden chair I hated.
“When are you kids going to realize you aren’t the authority in this school? Violence isn’t the answer.”
“Then what is?” I balled my fist, ready to fight for my life. “Because nothing you have done has stopped it.”
The heat from his stare could have dried the sweat beading on my forehead. There was no trust in his eyes, just accusation like I was responsible for the whole scenario. “You’re suspended. Three days. No Super 32 and you’re off the team for good if I catch you fighting again.”
“Sir…” It was too much. A penalty far greater than the crime.
“My decision is final. I’m done with you boys thinking you run this school.”
I let my head fall into my shaking hands while Principal Rayburn called my parents. I wasn’t trying to run the school. I was fighting for my life, for Lindsay’s life. And failing miserably.
M
adison High felt
tarnished. The echo of footsteps a rumbling sound in my ears. The chatter of students a constant reminder of Cody’s brutality. He was a madman, punching and punching even after the guy had stilled.
A locker slammed next to my head.
“He was suspended three days. Chugger just texted me. Coach is sending him in Cody’s place this weekend.” Zoe’s need to dive right into gossip made me want to storm off. Instead, I stayed frozen. My back pressed against the locker, and my arms folded around my economics book.
“Skylar?”
Disgust weaved into my voice. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
Her face paled. “I was just trying to tell you what’s going on. I’m sorry. I should have known this would upset you.”
Yes, she should have known. Because my boyfriend wasn’t just suspended for fighting. He’d become someone I didn’t recognize. Someone who made me question sharing my deepest secrets. Someone I never would have taken to meet my dad.
My phone dinged, and my stupid heart stuttered because I hoped it was Cody. The one person I wanted to slap, yet comfort.
Zoe eyed my purse. “That’s probably him.”
The phone dinged again, and I pulled it out.
Cody:
Meet me at Veteran’s Park
A demand. No, “Please.” No, “I’m sorry.” Just an expectation that I’d skip school to talk to him. And sadly, I knew I would.
Zoe saw the text and frowned. “Go talk to him. I’ll cover for you.”
“You will?” My anger faltered, replaced by gratitude that Zoe would put aside her feelings for mine even though she still believed Cody betrayed Blake.
She spun her pinky ring round and round. “I don’t like it, and I still think he’s bad for you. But if I were in your shoes, I’d want to know what happened.”
“I won’t be gone long.” I hugged her quickly and took off toward the parking lot. Hoping. Wishing. Praying Cody’s sudden violence would make sense.
M
y cut and
bruised knuckles throbbed almost as much as my chest. I’d texted Skylar ten minutes ago, and she never responded. Blake pulled her away, and Coach wouldn’t even look at me when Principal Rayburn told him what happened. Could the day get any worse?
A flash of black caught my eye, and I walked toward Skylar’s Mustang the minute she parked, willing myself to be calm and ignore the crashing anxiety brewing inside. She came, so maybe I hadn’t lost everything.
Skylar emerged from the car, her face encased in hurt. There was no smile. No greeting. She barely made eye contact.
My hand itched to reach for her. “Talk to me.”
She slammed her door. “Why did you have to punch him?”
The explanation choked me. I’d lost control, reverted to a time that wouldn’t stop haunting me. “He was harassing Lindsay.”
“So? There wasn’t a better way to handle it?” She pulled at her locket in jerky motions. “You could have turned him in.”
A muscle in my jaw jumped. “And then what? They investigate and the entire senior class lies and says they don’t know who did it? Stuff like this has been happening since school started. It’s happening outside of school, too. Social media. Prank calls. I had to send a message.”