His left eye was already swelling shut, but he peeled open the right to see that Kate was now crouched over him. Her fingers were hovering just off his shoulder, like she was afraid to touch him.
He tried to smile, but felt it probably looked more like a grimace. “Hey, Kate.”
Her eyes were filled with sympathy, her face still flushed, but she wasn’t crying anymore, and Carswell liked to think he’d put an end to that, at least.
“Are you all right? Can you stand?”
Bracing himself, he sat up, which was a start. Kate helped a little, although she still seemed hesitant.
“Ow,” he muttered. His entire abdomen was throbbing and bruised. He wondered if they’d broken a rib after all.
Aces, how embarrassing. He would be investing in some good martial arts simulators after this. Or maybe boxing. He’d never be on the losing side of a fistfight again if he could help it, outnumbered or not.
“Are you all right, Mr. Thorne?” said Mr. Chambers.
Squinting upward, Carswell saw that they’d been joined by two of the tech professors, who were standing with their arms folded over Jules and his friends. Everyone was scowling. Rob even looked a tiny bit guilty, or maybe he just hated that they’d been caught.
“I’m grand,” said Carswell. “Thank you for asking, Mr. Chambers.” Then he flinched and rubbed at the spot on his side where the jolt of pain had originated from.
Mr. Chambers sighed heavily. “You know that all fighting is against school policy, Mr. Thorne. I’m afraid this calls for a one-week suspension. For all four of you.”
“Wait—no!” said Kate. Then, to Carswell’s surprise, she laced their fingers together. He blinked at their hands, then up at her profile, and doubted she even realized she was doing it. “Carswell was defending me. They’d taken my portscreen and wouldn’t give it back. It’s not his fault!”
The vice principal was shaking his head, and though Carswell could tell he felt bad about the decision, he also had an expression that suggested there was nothing he could do about it. “School rules, Miss Fallow.”
“But that isn’t fair. He didn’t do anything wrong!”
“It’s a no-tolerance policy. I’m sorry, but we can’t make exceptions.” Mr. Chambers glanced back at the other boys. “Mr. Keller, Mr. Doughty, Mr. Mancuso—you can follow me to my office so we can comm your parents. Miss Fallow, why don’t you assist Mr. Thorne to see the med-droid.” He attempted sympathy when he met Carswell’s one-eyed gaze again. “We’ll comm your parents later.”
Chin falling to his chest, Carswell cursed under his breath. This was also against school policy, but Mr. Chambers blessedly ignored it.
“Miss Fallow, I’ll alert your teacher to forgive your absence for this period.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chambers,” she murmured, full of resignation.
As Jules and his friends were escorted away, Carswell allowed himself to lean against Kate and push himself onto his wobbly legs, with another handful of curses and groans.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as he draped an arm around her shoulders and she began escorting him toward the med-droid office.
“Not your fault,” he said through his teeth. Although, now that he had the strenuous effort of walking to focus on, the pain almost seemed to be dulling. Almost. “You get your portscreen?”
“Yes. Thank you. And I got your bag.” Then she huffed angrily. “I can’t believe they’re suspending you. It isn’t fair.”
He tried to shrug, but it came out as a more general flopping of his free arm. “I was already grounded for mid-July break. A suspension can’t make it that much worse.”
“Grounded? For what?”
His gaze flickered to her, and he couldn’t avoid a wry smile, even though it pinched his throbbing cheekbone. “Poor math grade.”
She flushed. “Oh.”
Carswell pressed a hand against his ribs, finding that by applying a slight amount of pressure he could relieve some of the jarring as they walked. “Yep, I’m grounded until I bring my score back up. Of course, that’s not going to happen now that I can’t even go to class.” He tried to laugh as if it didn’t bother him, but quickly realized what a bad idea that was, and the sound turned into something of a pained cough. “Oh well. Just more time to catch up on my Joel Kimbrough reading, I guess.”
She tried to giggle, maybe to make him feel better, but it didn’t sound any more authentic than his laugh had.
“When you’re done,” she said, “I’m sure you could write an amazing paper that explores the parallels between the dangers of space travel as compared to navigating school hallways and social status and … and…”
“And parents.”
Her laugh was less forced this time. “And parents, of course.”
“I suspect that Martians have pretty much always symbolized parents in those books.”
“They must, being that they’re so … otherworldly.”
“And terrifying.”