Chapter Sixteen
There’s a crowd gathered in a circle behind the school. I can see it from the cot I’m sitting on in the nurse’s office, the ice pack cold against my head.
I can’t tell what’s going on because everyone’s shoving to get closer to whatever’s happening in the middle.
Setting the ice pack on the crinkly white paper covering the blue plastic mattress, I scoot off to get a better look out the window.
There are two—no, four boys wrestling. One boy sits on top of another and punches him.
I cover my mouth. It’s Jonathan. Tears flood my eyes. What is he doing?
A male teacher—I think one of the eighth-grade math teachers—pushes through the crowd while another teacher directs everyone to go inside. He wraps his arms around Jonathan to pull him to his feet.
Collin is there, his arms flailing and pointing, probably trying to explain what happened.
But I know what happened when the nurse rushes out and crouches next to Jonas, who has blood on his face. I can’t believe Jonathan did that.
Jonas and Gil were awful when they tried to steal the coffee can I decorated with leaves and grass and carried around with me to raise money to save the rainforest. There wasn’t even that much in it.
Mostly pennies. But when they tried to yank it out of my arms, I couldn’t let it go.
Except they were stronger, and I ended up falling and hitting my head on the floor.
Jonathan beat Jonas up because of me.
Are you going to talk to him ever again?” Danika asks from beside me. We’re both staring at the ceiling, the morning light glowing through my shades.
“I think he needs to do the talking.” I reach for her hand. “Are you going to talk to Oren ever again?” I glance down at the purple finger-shaped bruise wrapped around her arm. A spark of anger ignites in my core.
“I want to make sure he’s okay.” She sounds sad.
“Shouldn’t he be making sure you’re okay?” I sound angry.
“He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Her protest is weak.
“Tell that to my ass,” I grumble.
“It wouldn’t have happened if I had just gone with him.” Each word carries a note of defeat.
The heat in the pit of my stomach churns.
I close my eyes and breathe. She said this last night too.
I tried to convince her that none of this was her fault.
And hoped after a night of sleep, she’d see it with the same clarity.
Evidently, she’s still convinced she could have prevented it by leaving with her drunk boyfriend.
I’m not convinced that would’ve ended well either.
“I know he pushed you, and he shouldn’t have. But Jonathan didn’t have to hit him like that. Oren was unconscious.”
“I know.” I’m not going to defend Jonathan’s actions. But I did spend most of the night thinking about what makes him resort to his fists when things escalate. It made me think of his father, questioning how long he’s been hurting him. And how I didn’t realize until now.
My father talks about wanting to break cycles when he explains why he represents his clients. Is violence inherited or learned? Maybe it can be unlearned. I don’t want to believe this is who Jonathan is… that he’s caught up in this never-ending cycle of losing himself to anger.
“I don’t know if he realized what he’d done until after.” The regret shadowing his face was as instantaneous as his attack on Oren, like he came back to himself when it was over.
“That’s how I feel about Oren,” Danika says, her voice a rasp, like she’s fighting back tears.
“Except Jonathan would never hurt me.” It comes out before I consider how it may sound to her.
Danika sits up. “Oren doesn’t hurt me.”
I raise my brows, challenging her with a pointed look at the evidence.
“This wasn’t him hurting me. This was me being stubborn.” Denial casts a shield around her, shutting me out. Danika’s not vulnerable anymore. She’s arming herself.
I meet her self-blame with righteous frustration.
“And what about the bruise on your wrist from when he showed up at Livvy’s? And was that bruise on your shoulder last week from him not hurting you?”
“I instigate it.” Her defense is weak, but her conviction isn’t.
She really believes what she’s saying. She might as well be saying she asked for it.
The more she denies it, the angrier I get.
“Jonathan’s different. He’s violent. Always looking for a fight—a bomb ready to go off.
How do you know you won’t be collateral damage someday? ”
“He’s not some raged lunatic, looking for someone to beat on. You know that. And last night, he was there because he was defending us from your boyfriend.” I’m standing. The fire in my gut’s fully enflamed now. “Why would he ever put his hands on me?”
“You’re too blind to see who he really is. Just because you’re in love with him doesn’t mean you can change him.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re going to stay with him, aren’t you?” Her words are an accusation.
“Why wouldn’t I?” My voice is louder. I’m defending him. Even though what he did was horrible. He punched Oren so hard, so many times—he knocked him out. “You’re going back to Oren again, aren’t you?”
“He loves me.” She says the words like they fix everything.
My mouth drops open. “He controls you. Just like—”
A loud knock interrupts the bitter words about to erupt from my mouth. “We can hear you,” Jaz calls from the other side.
My brother pushes the door open, not bothering to knock or wait for me to answer.
“Both of your boyfriends are assholes,” he announces. “I should know. I am one. So, dump them already and move on with your lives.”
We all gawk at him. I notice he’s freshly showered and fully dressed, his jacket in his hand. “I’m heading back to the city.”
“I thought you said…”
“I had to say something. Figured it would make you happy.” He shrugs dismissively.
I blink. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not sure I’m coming back for Thanksgiving, so see you in December.” He turns to go and calls over his shoulder, “Dump ’em. They’re not worth either of you.”
Jaz and Darcy part on either side of the doorway to let him pass.
“Your brother’s an asshole,” Darcy says.
“Said I was!” he shouts from down the hall.
Danika is gathering her things. “I have to go.”
“Don’t leave like this.” We’ve had disagreements before. Nothing like this. We’ve always found our way back to the middle. I’m not sure there is a middle this time.
“I need you to support me, no matter what I decide. Can you do that?” She plants a fist on her hip, waiting for my answer.
“You want me to be okay with him abusing you?” Not the answer that will make her stay.
Danika plucks her items from among the piles on the floor.
“That’s not what’s happening.” She grabs her duffel bag, overflowing with her costume, shoves more into it and tucks her boots under her arms, like she can’t get away from me fast enough.
“And if you think that I’d stay with him if he was deliberately hurting me, then you don’t know me at all.
I will not let another guy control me, not after your brother.
” She stops suddenly and looks at me like she is just now seeing me.
“You should really re-evaluate the men in your life. They’re all lying to you, and you keep believing them. ”
She storms out, Jaz and Darcy flattening on either side of the door once again.
My fists are clenched. I want to yell after her, but I don’t know what to say. The last word tied on my tongue. Tears fill my eyes.
“Umm…” Darcy says quietly. “We helped Magda make chocolate chip pancakes for your birthday breakfast. Maybe they’ll cheer you up?”
I flop down on my bed, the anger seeping out like a deflating balloon sputtering in the air. “I’m not hungry, but thank you.” Jaz steps toward me. I stop her. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll be down in a bit.”
I curl up in my bed and let the tears fall. I don’t go downstairs. I don’t leave my bed, not even when Jaz and Darcy come up to say goodbye, curling into me on either side and hugging me tight. “Happy birthday. We love you.” They only make me cry harder.
My mother knocks, and I tell her to go away. When she starts to open the door, I scream at her to leave me alone. Surprisingly, she does.
I don’t know who I’m angry with, exactly. Or if it’s sadness. Probably both. I just feel… a lot. And it’s all coming out in snotty, teary globs on my pillow.
My phone, ringing somewhere in my room, rouses me from emotionally drained sleep hours later. It’s dark. There’s a green glow on my floor. I stare at it until it stops. Then it goes off again. And again when I continue to ignore it.
Groaning, I stretch over the edge of my bed to pick it up.
“I think you should go to homecoming with me.”
“What?” I slowly sit up, which makes my head woozy.
“Homecoming. Go with me.”
“Um… I guess.”
“That was full of excitement,” Collin comments with sarcasm.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Not feeling very excitable today.”
“Let’s change that,” he replies. Before I can say anything, he hangs up.
I’m emerging from my bathroom, my hair wrapped in a towel, when Collin bursts into my room.
He has an arm wrapped around a bowl of popcorn, a six-pack of Dr. Pepper dangling from his fingers, and a bag full of what I can only presume to be candy in the other.
He tosses several DVD cases onto the bed and begins singing a Beatles song, Collin’s version.
“Hey, it’s your birthday”—he adds guitar effects, like from the scene in Sixteen Candles— “Well, happy birthday to you!”
I stare at him in shock. “How are you in my room?” My parents would never let him upstairs. They must not be home.
“I negotiated my way in here. You should’ve seen me. I gave your dad a run for his money. I think I have a future in litigation as a backup plan if the whole CEO thing is too boring.”
The light from the hallway streams in, spotlighting the piles of clothes and shoes on my floor. “Sadie, you’re a slob.” Collin swipes the pile of sweatpants off the end of my bed and yanks my covers up in a lame attempt to make it.