Chapter Eight
Dad, did you hear anything about the guy from Greenfield who got his arm broken?” I push the gnocchi around on my plate, trying to sound casual. My insides are anything but as they squirm and wriggle with nerves.
No one was home when Collin stopped by Jonathan’s after school.
I wish I’d gone with him, but I had to stay for a peer-mentor meeting.
And then I had dance. I was useless at both and might as well not have shown up.
Which was pretty much my entire wasted day of school—not participating or learning. Just worrying.
“I don’t have access to that information just yet. Not ’til I’m elected.” He gives me a meaningful look. “I haven’t been notified of anyone being accused of it either.”
“You’d know, right?”
“I’d know.” He smiles with gentle assurance. “Did something happen?”
My shoulders slump. I should feel relieved, except I still don’t know where he is. “No.”
“That’s not a face that believes nothing’s wrong.”
“I… I’m fine.” I focus on my plate and continue playing food hockey.
“You have a good heart,” my father tells me like he feels sorry for me. “And I like the boys. But Jonathan needs to learn to look the other way. He’s like his father used to be when I went to school with him, never able to back down from a fight. It could get him in serious trouble someday.”
I nod, not knowing how to answer. My dad and Hal Reeves grew up together.
I think they might even have been friends when they were younger.
Hal is respected in town. But from the little Dad has told me, he used to have the same affliction Jonathan does now.
Which is why I think my dad helps Jonathan and Collin—because he knows they’re more than the trouble they get into.
He keeps saying he wants Jonathan to learn, to not be part of the cycle.
I’m the first to walk away from conflict, so I may have learned too well.
I get anxious, listening to other people argue.
I don’t have a problem standing up for what I believe in.
It’s when passion tips to anger—it’s like there’s too much emotion to process.
I get overwhelmed. Which is why I’m the first one out the door when a situation gets intense.
“I know your mother asked you to distance yourself from the boys,” Dad continues. I peek up at him, not wanting him to say more. Because if he asks me to stay away from them, I don’t know what I’ll do. He doesn’t ask much of me. And I know how important this election is to him.
My dad has only ever been concerned about being honest. That I live life by a moral compass that allows me to respect the person looking back at me in the mirror. And if I had to lie to him so I wouldn’t have to give up Jonathan and Collin, I’d be disappointing us both.
“I don’t feel the same way.”
I exhale.
“I understand she only wants what’s best for me and the campaign, but I chose this profession to represent the voices who are too often silenced. And I don’t regret any of the cases I’ve taken or the people I’ve represented. That includes Jonathan and Collin. I won’t turn my back on them now.”
“Thank you, Dad.” I smile warmly. “I didn’t want to have to give them up, even for a few months.”
“I know. I’ll talk to your mother,” he says, placing his hand on mine. “Feel any better?”
I nod. Except I don’t.
I wake the next morning to a text from Collin: Don’t freak out when you see him.
Why would he send this? Because now I’m freaking out.
Jonathan is waiting for me by my locker with his right arm fastened to his body in a blue sling.
I search his face for any sign of pain or distress.
He gives me a tight smile that reveals nothing.
I want to ask what happened. At the same time, I don’t know if I want to know what happened.
The thought of him being in another fight makes me feel queasy.
“I’m okay,” he assures me, easily reading my face. “Just a dislocated shoulder. It was an accident at one of my dad’s job sites. I’ll be fine.”
“Does it hurt?” I want to touch him, to comfort him in some way. Instead, I bite my lip and give him a pathetic look.
“Not too bad, as long as I don’t move it. Guess my football season’s over. Not that they’ll miss me.” He releases a light laugh, like he’s relieved.
“What about swimming?” I ask in a rush, knowing how important that is to his future.
“I’ll be okay by then.”
“Good.” I blow out a breath, trying to release the anxiety that’s held me captive for the past couple of days. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I glance at the sling. “Mostly.”
“I should’ve called you, but the pain meds knocked me out, and I was really out of it all day yesterday,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
I dismiss it with a shrug and lift the latch to open my locker.
“I still want to do something on Friday, if you do.”
I nearly forgot about Friday. “Definitely.”
“You’ll have to drive.” He gestures to his arm.
“How’d you get to school this morning?”
Jonathan laughs. “Collin drove.”
I grimace, feeling even sorrier for him. Collin never drives. He had to take his driving test three times. And I think the only reason he passed was because the instructor didn’t want to see him again. For someone who loves working on cars, he doesn’t know much about driving them—safely anyway.
“Yeah, it was rough.” Jonathan looks tortured, just remembering it.
“Did he drive your truck?”
“My transmission will never be the same.” The tortured look makes even more sense now. He never lets anyone drive his truck.
I cringe, feeling the pain of the grinding gears. “Sorry. I can drive you guys until you’re better.”
“Maybe,” he replies, seriously considering it. “You don’t mind driving across town to get us?”
“Not at all.”
“What’s the other guy look like?” a voice calls from a group of guys walking by. Jonathan ignores it. “Don’t piss him off, Sadie. You could be next.” I spin to seek out the source of the asinine comment.
Jonathan steps toward the guys, and I instinctively place a hand on his chest. He stills. My hand is shaking. He puts his large, warm hand on top of mine, covering it completely.
“I would never—”
“Don’t.” My voice is stronger than I mean for it to be. It’s laced with anger. Not at him. At just the thought that anyone would think it. “You never have to say that to me.” The blaze of emotion leaves me with an unfamiliar tremor.
Jonathan places a gentle kiss on my temple, and I lean into him. He stiffens with a pained inhale. I pull back. “Sorry.”
“I’m alright.”
But I’m far from it.
Dude, that sucks,” Darren says, sliding into our crowded lunch table, which has now grown to include Oren and Sean. Oren is here for Danika. And I guess Sean is here for Oren? And Darren… well, he knows Jonathan, Collin and Oren.
We don’t ever mix friend groups like this. They spend time with the guys. I spend time with the girls. Never together, except at parties, but they don’t count because we’re not together, together. I’m definitely overthinking this.
Maybe because in a matter of hours, I know we can never go back. Because this is not just between us anymore.
“Who’s your backup on Friday?” Sean asks Oren.
“He doesn’t need a backup,” Jonathan tells him. “But he has McMannis when he needs a breather.”
“Sorry, man,” Oren says with sincerity.
“I heard it was payback for that guy whose arm you broke at the party,” Sean interjects without any tact.
Jonathan flashes his eyes between the guys. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.
“That’s bullshit,” Collin quips, defending Jonathan, as he always does, with much more practice and ease than me. “Who’s saying that?”
“It is bullshit, considering that guy really broke his arm trying to scale the gate at the Garrett estate and wasn’t even at the party.
He was caught on the camera that was installed while they’re doing renovations.
” Danika nods toward Jonathan. “Actually, it’s your dad’s company working there. He turned in the video.”
Jonathan becomes very still. “When?”
“Yesterday,” Danika tells him. She narrows her eyes at Sean, who slumps in his seat. “So, tell everyone to shut the hell up.”
“Yesterday,” I hear Jonathan say under his breath.
I thought he’d feel better, knowing that the accusations will finally stop. And the police will quit harassing him. But he looks more disturbed now than when Sean opened his big mouth.
I lean over and ask, “You okay?”
He rids himself of whatever shadow darkened his features. “Uh, yeah. Just thought my dad would’ve mentioned it.”
I glance at Collin. He’s studying Jonathan like he’s come to his own conclusion. I feel like I’m missing something I should already know. This isn’t the first time.
What? I mouth to Collin. He shakes me off, like it’s nothing.
Did he really hurt his shoulder at a job?” I ask Collin during film class that afternoon.
“That’s what he said.” Collin doesn’t look at me when he answers. His eyes remain on the screen. I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else or even look at me.
I don’t usually doubt Jonathan. Jonathan shows up with cuts and bruises all the time for whatever reason—a fight, an injury on one of his dad’s construction jobs, playing football, wrestling with Collin or doing some other adrenaline-seeking stunt.
He once broke his arm falling out of a tree when we were twelve.
I’ve never had a reason to doubt him before or even considered that he may be lying. But this feels different.
The cut lip after a fight he didn’t get into. The dislocated shoulder after he was called to the office. He was accused of breaking a guy’s arm, but Jonathan’s dad cleared him—and never bothered to tell Jonathan. It feels off.
Or I’m connecting dots that don’t exist.
“Will you bring donuts for the car ride in the morning?” Collin asks, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. He’s leaned in close to not be overheard by Mr. Godfrey, who roused from his nap to scan the class for others who may have nodded off.