And now I’m parked in front of the studio.
I don’t want Jordyn to figure out how, you know, pissed I am. And I don’t want her to be all awkward either. And I hope Kelly didn’t tell her what happened before I ran out of there, or . . . God, what if Jordyn saw it for herself?
I should really find a new job.
I’m startled by a knock. It’s Jordyn. She’s waving and smiling through the passenger window like nothing happened. So that’s how she’s going to play it?
All that day, she’s so good at pretending, I begin to wonder if I made the whole making-out thing up. She even flirts with a guy right in front of me. Maybe I should just stick with girls like Ali. At least there wouldn’t be all these . . . feelings.
When Henry comes in and doesn’t say anything about my awkward breakfast with Kelly, I think it’s pretty safe to assume she didn’t tell either of them. I somehow manage to make it through the day. Then I duck out before Henry or Jordyn are totally finished closing up, claiming I have to be somewhere. But the only place I have to be is away from them.
? ? ?
School is weird. It feels like everyone knows I have these, like, feelings now, and they’re all pointing and staring.
I skip lunch to run around the track even though it’s thirty-eight degrees out. I notice Coach watching me, but I ignore his impenetrable glare. I need to run. I need to get rid of this shit, this baggage. I still want Jordyn so badly. I can’t help it. It’s like she forced these feelings into me, then left me without instructions.
I repeat the whole running for lunch routine the next day, and the next. The less I see Jordyn, the faster the feelings will evaporate. Maybe I’ll call Ali this weekend. As a bonus, Coach has even stopped blatantly glaring at me.
I’m heading up the hall after gym on Thursday when I see Jordyn for the first time this week. She’s not wearing the usual makeup, and she’s got on that burnt-orange thermal shirt—the one I vividly remember wanting to rip off her. She’s standing in the middle of the hallway staring at me. There are tears streaming down her face. At first I don’t understand, but then a large group passes out of the way and I see the whole scene.
Jordyn is cornered. There’s Sheila, some of the other cheerleaders, Reece, the quarterback, and Brett. And they’re laughing at her. Marcus is there too, but he’s not really part of it. He’s got his hand on Sheila’s shoulder, trying to get her to leave, but then Brett spots me and pushes him out of the way before turning back to Jordyn.
“Where’s your usual getup? I miss it. You know, because vampires suck so good,” Brett hisses into the side of her neck. She tries to get away from him, but then Reece is there, holding her in place. The girls erupt in laughter. Sheila’s distinct laugh rises above the others’ and she looks directly at me. Brett grabs the bottom of Jordyn’s shirt and starts yanking it up. “Here. We’ll help you change back.” Jordyn fights it, but she’s not strong enough. Especially when Reece gives him a hand. They pull her shirt all the way over her face, trapping her arms over her head, completely exposing her breasts, which are covered by only a sheer lacy bra. The girls laugh harder.
Marcus pulls at Brett’s shoulder, trying to make him let go. He says something I can’t hear, but it’s obvious Brett isn’t listening.
I don’t even remember the first hit. My hand is throbbing and Brett’s on the ground, holding his nose, and Jordyn’s on the ground pulling her shirt down, and Reece is beneath me on the ground, holding his jaw.
“You okay?” I ask Jordyn. But I don’t hear what she says because Reece’s fist meets my jaw. It barely hurts.
“Are you fucking this loser, Tyler?” Brett asks from somewhere behind me. “Way to downgrade, bro.”
I run full speed at Brett, knocking him in the stomach with my shoulder. Then I’m on top of him. Everything’s calm around me, like the world’s on pause and Brett and I are in slow motion. I slam my fist into his head. His jaw. His eye. Over, and over, and over until I realize he’s stopped struggling. Hands are pulling at my arms, my shoulders, my hair. There’s blood running down Brett’s face and covering my hands. The cheerleaders are looking at me, mouths wide. Marcus and Jordyn look scared.
Next thing I know, I’m sitting in Principal Riggs’s office with an icepack on my right hand, which is throbbing something fierce. I’m pretty sure my right ring finger is dislocated. It’s hanging at a weird angle. But all I know is the rage I’m still feeling. Marcus is sitting next to me with an icepack on his eye. Apparently I elbowed him as he tried to pry me off of Brett.
My ears ring. I only make out about every other word Riggs says. I catch the gist, though. Something about suspension, something about me being lucky I’m not expelled, something about calling my dad. Fuck.
When Riggs opens the door, still barking at Marcus and me, I exit, keeping my head down. I can’t afford to lose it on anyone else.