Chapter 29
brENT DISAPPEARS DOWN THE CORRIDOR and out of the double doors of the building.
He gets as far as the bottom step when I launch myself from the top right into his back, sending us rolling onto the tiled platform below.
He tries crawling away, my hand shooting out and grabbing his ankle stopping him from escaping.
The earlier fear that I kept buried with Blake and Brent cornering me subsides, disappearing beneath waves of mounting fury. Even the pain in my abdomen from the multiple punches I took fails to inhibit my strength.
He kicks at my hands and face, but I roll, scrambling to my knees, grasping at his shoulder and grappling around him. Brent's fist flies toward my face. I dodge it in time, the miss throwing him off balance causing him to land face-first into my fist.
"You fucking asshole! After all these years, this is how you treat me – your best fucking friend? You gang up on me with them?"
Brent shoves me off, scrambling to his feet.
The sun hangs low in the sky, beginning its descent toward the horizon, disappearing behind the trees on the other side of the adjacent football field.
The first of the stadium lights – set on a timer – flickers on across the field, illuminating the scoreboard and part of the running track running the perimeter of the field.
"Best friend," he chokes, laughing hysterically. "Some friend you fucking are, hanging around with that asshole and suddenly he's showing up wherever you are! You've gotten real close with that prick."
Getting to my feet, I size him up, my hands curling to fists at my sides. "This isn't about Sky and you know it."
He blinks. His eyebrows raise, incredulity schooling his angered glare. "You're on a first name basis after I asked you not to have anything to do with him."
"What are you talking about? When did you ask me that?"
"Earlier this week, jerkwad," he fires, spittle flying out of his mouth. A vein on his forehead is visible, and I barely dodge the swing of his fist flying at my face.
Vaguely, I recall our last confrontation in the cafeteria on Monday when Sasha mentioned that Katy had called her the night before. I recall, barely, Brent pleading with me.
Don't choose them.
He must've seen it on my face, the moment I remember exactly what he's referring to. He shakes his head, disappointed, betrayal flashing in his eyes. "And still, you chose them. You chose him," he accuses, jabbing a finger at the double doors where Sky and Blake are still in the gymnasium.
Frustration courses through me. It stands accompanied by hurt over the feeling of being cast out slowly, made to feel like a spectator watching the tragic spiral of his life unfolding and unable to do a thing about it. He's so messed up that it's beyond hope trying to help him.
"Can you fucking blame me, Brent? You pushed me away first. Yelled and told me to drop it, said that it was none of my business whenever I tried to talk to you and figure out what the fuck's wrong with you."
"It's none of your fucking business, Conner –"
"It is my business when my best friend starts acting like a complete stranger.
Worst of all is that you've been pushing me out and getting closer to Blake when you know I can hardly stand his ass.
Yet somehow, he's closer to you than I ever was and seems to know about whatever the fuck's going on with you.
I mean, for fuck's sake, Brent! Did you really expect me to stick around when you and that asshole team up to bully people and ruin their lives?
It's like I don't even know who the fuck you are anymore and you have the audacity to get mad at me for finding new friends – better friends. "
"Better friends?" he squawks, incredulous. "You think that asshole is better? Trust me, Jace. You have no idea what you'd be getting into. I bet you don't know the kind of person he is – what he really is. That guy is bad news."
"Maybe," I say, defiant in my stance. "But at least he's never made me feel like the bad guy for giving a shit about him."
Brent straightens, the anger on his face faltering.
Calmer now, my words ring with truth, the weight of our dying friendship hitting me hard – or maybe, it's already dead.
A disbelieving laugh tumbles out of me because after all this time, it's taken this – a fallout of this magnitude – for us to finally broach the topic of something that's sat like oil and water in my chest for over a year.
Since that day in sophomore year when I'd had enough of the growing rift between us, watching him get closer to Blake, his behavior and attitude worsening over time, turning him into someone I couldn't recognize.
It's taken us to this point where we trade punch for punch, threat for threat, when all of this could have been avoided if only he'd opened up to me that day when I confronted him at his house after school.
I'd gone there looking for my best friend, someone who wasn't Mom and Dad because I'd just found out the cancer had returned.
I was falling apart, scared out of my mind.
I got to his house to find Blake there. They were playing video games and Brent was in a particularly bad mood because Katy broke up with him. Again.
He took his anger out on me.
I've never liked Blake. Only tolerated him because he was Brent's friend, but that day solidified how much I can't stand him because instead of butting out and shutting up, he instigated shit for his own twisted amusement.
Made me look like the bad guy for trying to convince Brent to forget about Katy and find another girl.
Instead of the distraction I sought, the temporary illusion that I'm still fine, I got yelled at, insulted, and thrown out because I was being 'too nosy'.
I haven't been back to his house since that day unless it's for a party he hosts when his aunt's out of town for work and I'm required to show up to maintain my social standing with that insufferable group.
Shaking my head, I turn to look at him, wishing things hadn't gotten so bad.
With how my life is right now, as much as it pains me, I don't need extra negativity in it. I have to cut it out.
"We haven't had bad a single decent conversation since high school started.
You're so full of anger and hate that it's nearly impossible to approach you without you blowing up.
I don't know how to reach you, and I am tired of walking on eggshells around you.
I get it. Shit hasn't been great for you since your parents, but you're not the only one fighting demons. "
"You don't know the half of it," he shoots back.
"Yeah? Maybe I would if you talked instead of screaming at me every time I try."
Guilt flashes across his face. He rears back as if I've slapped him, almost as if he can't believe I've spoken to him like that.
"You wouldn't understand," he deflects, still as persistent to the end.
"And I'm done hoping to. You took my friendship for granted.
Treated me like shit. Threatened me and literally ganged up on me with Blake shit-for-brains Dalton of all fucking people on top of having that pain-in-ass girlfriend of yours try to film it.
" I jab a finger in his direction. "You don't get to do all of that but have the audacity to get mad that I no longer want anything to do with you.
And how dare you use basketball as the reason for the stunt that you've pulled? "
He looks offended. Hurt even. The audacity on this motherfucker.
"So, that's it? You're choosing them. Choosing him over our friendship?"
"What friendship? It's been dead since high school started. But now we're acknowledging it, so yeah. I guess I am."
He looks away, blowing air out of his mouth. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
He nods, turning back to look at me. For once, there's no sign of betrayal or offense or disappointment on his face but a quiet acknowledgement of the finality we're faced with – the end of a friendship that's lasted for most of our lives.
"I hope you don't regret this, Jace. I really do." His words are sincere but it's far too late for that crap now.
"Pretty sure I won't," I reply because what Brent doesn't know is that I don't see Sky as a friend.
He doesn't know that I'm in love with Sky Daniels.