Lua rolled his eyes. “Is that your expert opinion, Dr. Pinkerton?”
Maybe Lua was right. I’d always felt guilty I hadn’t called the police about Tommy’s father beating on him, and getting Calvin the help he needed might have been my chance to make up for that, but Calvin’s situation was more complicated, and I wasn’t prepared to make any decisions about it at IHOP. “We should probably get home,” I said, rather than answer.
Lua and I fought over the bill while the poor waitress stood behind the register unsure what to do. Lua finally won, but I slipped twenty bucks into his jacket pocket while he rocked a victory dance.
When we walked out to the parking lot, Trent Williams was sitting on my trunk with his arms folded across his chest.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
Trent hopped down when he saw us.
“What’re you doing here?” Lua asked, his voice defiant.
“Pink Lady invited me.”
“Well, you’re late, and we’re going home.” Lua tried to walk to the passenger side, but Trent blocked his path. “You don’t want to mess with me, Trent.” Lua was barely five feet tall, but he’d never backed down from anyone. I used to think he overcompensated for his lack of height with aggressiveness, but time had taught me that Lua was simply fearless.
When I tried to push myself between Lua and Trent, I smelled booze on Trent’s breath. “Go home, Trent.”
“What’s your problem? I just want to talk to the he-she for a minute.”
Oh shit, I thought.
Lua balled his fists and clenched his jaw. He stood straighter and looked Trent dead in the eyes.
I had a good four inches on Trent, but the guy had rocks for brains and muscles. If we fought, I’d lose. But I wasn’t as worried about Trent starting a fight as I was about Lua starting one.
“Dude, you’re drunk,” I said. “I’ll give you a ride home, but you have to cut this shit out.”
Trent shoved me back. “I don’t need a ride from the pansy patrol. I just wanna talk to Lua.”
I fished my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the car doors with the fob. “Come on, Lua, let’s get out of here.”
I was worried I’d need to wrestle Lua into the car to keep him from throwing down with Trent, but I was relieved when Lua opened the door and started to climb inside.
Trent lurched forward and slammed the door shut.
A high-pitched wail ripped from Lua’s throat, raw and animalistic. I’d never heard a sound that hopeless in my life and I never want to again. He was screaming and screaming, and I felt his pain like it was my own.
Trent was going, “Fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck! I’m sorry!” and he grabbed the handle and pulled the door open again.
Without hesitation Lua kneed Trent in the balls, and it wasn’t some halfhearted move, either. Lua folded him.
“What happened?” I ran around to their side. Lua was cradling his hand against his chest.
“That asshole slammed my fingers in the door!” Lua said. Trent was still moaning on the ground, clutching his balls, and Lua kicked him in the arm with his steel-toed boot.
I tried to coax Lua into letting me look at his hand, but he protected it like a wounded bird. His fingers, from what I could see, were already swelling and bruised.
“Shit, Ozzie. Shit, I think he broke my fingers.”
“I’m calling the cops,” I said. I already had my phone out and was dialing.
Lua shook his head. “Don’t. Let’s just go.”
“He assaulted you, Lua!”
“I don’t care about him!” Lua screamed. “I can’t play guitar without my fingers, Ozzie, don’t you get it? I need to go to the hospital right now!”
I hustled Lua into the car and left Trent moaning in pain in the parking lot.
? ? ?
Dinah ran into the hospital a little after two a.m., straight from a date and dressed in a short black skirt. Trent had broken three of Lua’s fingers. His index was fractured in two places and would require surgery. The whole time we were waiting for the X-rays, Lua kept saying, “How am I supposed to play now?”
I wished I had an answer, but I didn’t.
382,011 KM
LUA HELD UP HER PURPLE-AND-GREEN fingers for Calvin and Dustin to see as we sat at our usual lunch table. The emergency room doctor had splinted her fingers the best he could, but they still looked deformed.
“Do you want me to murder him for you?” Dustin asked. He looked past me, across the lunchroom toward Trent, who looked no worse for wear. I’d called the police on the way to the hospital to report a drunk guy in the parking lot of IHOP trying to drive home, but he must have either left before the cops had arrived, or managed to talk his way out of it, and it made me hate him more.
Lua shook her head. She’d refused my calls over the weekend and hadn’t said much since she’d arrived at lunch. All the air had leaked out of her. She’d even subdued her normally flamboyant wardrobe. Wearing jeans and a black blouse, Lua looked so aggressively normal.
“You’ll be able to play again, right?” Calvin said. I’d filled him in on what had happened, and he’d spent the rest of the weekend beating himself up for skipping the show, like he could have stopped Trent. Okay, maybe he could have. Calvin was probably the one person, other than Lua, who could’ve taken Trent in a fight.
Lua shook her head.
“But the doctor said if you get surgery on your index finger, they can put some pins in to make sure it heals properly.” Lua had forced the doctor to explain it five times.
“And where the hell am I supposed to get the money for that?” Lua asked.
I hugged Lua, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, but she pushed me away.
“I’m just trying to help, Lu.”
“I don’t want your help.” She looked around the table, challenging each of us. “We don’t have insurance. So no surgery, no tour. No music career.”
“What about—” Dustin began, but Lua slammed her good fist on the lunch table, causing her tray to jump.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Lua stood and walked out of the cafeteria.
“Should one of you go after her?” Calvin asked.
“Let her be for now,” I said. “She just needs time.”
Dustin started in on how expensive hand surgery would be without insurance, but I’d stopped listening and stared at Trent with his friends. He was eating his lunch and laughing like he hadn’t ruined Lua’s life. The longer I watched him, the louder the monster in my chest growled, clawing at the back of my ribs, demanding I set it free.
When the bell rang, dismissing lunch, I marched across the cafeteria, right up to Trent.
And I shoved him.
“What the hell?”
Trent was surrounded by his friends, but I didn’t care if they piled on and beat the shit out of me. I pushed him again. “You broke Lua’s fingers,” I said. “Did you know that? She can’t play guitar now.”
Mason Kang grunted something that sounded like “Fuck the kid up,” and a couple of Trent’s other friends urged him to knock me down, but Trent kept his fists at his sides.