Breathing Underwater by Alex Flinn Page B

face, making her look small. She clutched her arm where I’d held it, but I could see a red mark spreading under her hand. I had done that. God, I was like my father, just exactly like him. I had this strange feeling in my brain, like I’d lost something irreplaceable. I pushed it away. Caitlin came to the window. I rolled it down, and her words spewed out in a gush of tears. Looking at her, I felt like crying myself. And I never cried .
    “I’m sorry, Nick,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again. There was no one but you, ever. I never … you’re the only boy I ever kissed.” She knelt to look at me. “Please give me another chance.”
    She was apologizing. I’d hurt her, and she was sorry. Maybe I hadn’t really hurt her. She was worked up, but she’d be okay. I’d make it okay. I opened the door and took her in my arms. “I’m sorry too, Cat. You know I’d never hurt you.” I kissed her, first her face, her lips, then her arm where it kept getting redder. I wanted to kiss every hair on her head to keep her with me. “Sometimes, I get crazy. It’s just, I’d die if I lost you.”
    “I won’t do it again.” Caitlin’s tears soaked my face. “I won’t do anything to make you mad again.”
    “It’s okay.” She was all right. I hadn’t hurt her. Nothing had changed. In a way, it felt good, knowing she’d forgive anything. Safe. Still, I wouldn’t risk it again. I’d be the perfect boyfriend. Now that I knew she loved me, it would be easy .
    I held her until every tear was gone .

MARCH 7
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Mario’s class
    “When is it okay to use violence?” Mario asks at the beginning of class.
    As usual, Ray has the kiss-ass answer. “It’s never all right,” he says, and some guys—truth be told, I’m one of them—start making kissy noises. A few others nod.
    “Never?” Mario’s left eyebrow heads north. “I was born at night, but not last night. We’re talking about you guys . Do you expect me to believe I worked some sort of voodoo, and you’re cured?”
    Ray says nothing, but I suggest, “Self-defense?” and just about everyone nods.
    Mario nods too. “All right. Someone physically attacks you, you’re within your rights fighting back. St. Francis of Assisi would probably buy that. You guys, I’ve got a feeling, could come up with some other examples.”
    “How about if someone’s attacking an old lady or something?” Kelly asks.
    “Grandma’s getting stomped, Mr. Steele does a Van Damme on her attacker. Okay. What else?”
    Silence.
    “I assume no one here’s okay with smacking a woman every so often to show who’s boss?” Mario asks. There are snickers, but no takers. “You’re sure?” he says. When no one answers, he says, “Good, then we’re making progress.”
    More silence, but Tiny cracks his knuckles like he does when something’s bothering him. He doesn’t speak, though, until finally we’re all watching. “What you think you’re looking at?” he demands.
    “Something else, Tyrone?” Mario says.
    “Yeah. What if she’s dissing you?”
    “Dissing you how?”
    “Like if she say she’ll pick you up somewhere, and she’s late.”
    “Been there,” I say, thinking about yesterday’s journal.
    “This happened last week, Tyrone?” Mario says. When Tiny nods, Mario says, “Did Donyelle say what kept her?”
    “Maybe.”
    “You mean you didn’t listen?” Tiny scowls, and Mario adds, “You thought you already knew?”
    “I knew, I knew.”
    “What did you know?” Mario asks, patient as an hourglass.
    “She was with someone else.”
    “She was with me,” Kelly says.
    Tiny stays seated but points a big forefinger in Kelly’s direction. “Don’t you be messing with me, Whitetrash!”
    “Okay, so we’ve all been there,” Mario says. “The woman in your life is supposed to pick you up at four o’clock. Now it’s four, and she’s not there, and you’re thinking”—gesturing toward