grab breakfast for everybody for the drive … you okay with an Egg McMuffin meal?”
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled.
“Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be back in fifteen. You have to be washed, dressed, packed, and waiting outside by the front office. You return the key, okay?”
“The key?”
“To the room. It’s on the dresser. I already have my bag with me.” He paused. “Are you okay?”
How could I be okay? “Yeah.”
“Great. See you at the car. And remember, fifteen minutes. We’ll be waiting.”
The door closed behind him—locking as it closed—with the key on the dresser. I was alone and he couldn’t get back in. Slowly I climbed out of bed. My legs felt shaky and my stomach was upset. I saw the phone on the night-stand. I should call somebody and tell them … but who? Who should I call? My mind raced around and came up with no answer. I certainly couldn’t call my father, and it wasn’t like my mother would or could do anything without him. Besides, what would I even say to her? What would I say to anybody?
I staggered into the bathroom and closed the door behind me—locking it. I climbed out of the clothes I’d slept in and turned on the shower. Once the hot water was running over my head and down my body, I grabbed the little bar of soap and ripped the wrapper open with my teeth. I lathered it up and started scrubbing away. I just felt so awful … so dirty … so sick to my stomach. My stomach violently convulsed and I threw up. Clear,yellowish, alcohol-smelling vomit bounced off the bottom of the shower stall and up onto my legs, instantly washed away by the water flowing down.
I leaned against the wall, my stomach still heaving, my legs still shaking, and just stood there and let the water continue to wash over me. I just wanted the water to wash everything away.
It all spun around in my head again. It was like a terrible memory—no, not a memory, because it wasn’t like it had actually happened to
me
. It was more like I had seen it on TV, or in a movie … no, wrong again … more like I’d heard it all on the radio, because my eyes had been so tightly closed and the room so dark that I couldn’t see anything. But I could still feel it. Feel the weight on my chest, feel hands on my—my stomach convulsed and I threw up again.
The only thing churning faster than my stomach was my head, trying to make sense of it … it did happen … right? It wasn’t a dream … no, not a dream, a nightmare. A nightmare that was real.
I circled around the side of the motel. Coach’s Escalade was parked there and the three of them were leaning against it, waiting. It had been a lot longer than fifteen minutes. They were all talking loudly and there was lots of laughter. I couldn’t help but think—did what happenedto me happen to Jake that first night? No, it couldn’t have. At least, Jake didn’t act like anything had happened … but wasn’t that how I was trying to act?
“You’re late,” Coach said.
“What were you doing, fixing your makeup?” Josh asked.
“What did you say?” I snapped.
“Um … nothing … just joking around, man.”
“Yeah, chill out,” Jake said. “I told them you were late because you were a late pick in the draft and—”
I dropped my bag and barrelled into Jake, smashing him against the car, and then we both fell into the dirt of the driveway, swinging and kicking as we hit the ground! I connected with a solid shot to the jaw and he screamed in pain. Before he could react, I hit him a second time and a third and—
“Stop it, now!” Coach yelled.
He reached down and grabbed me by the arm and with incredible power yanked me up and away as I still tried to get in a final lick at Jake. Jake staggered to his feet, his hands holding his nose but not the blood flowing out of it.
“You got anything more you want to say?” I screamed.
“You idiot!” he yelled back, his voice muffled by his hands.
“You calling me an idiot? You want some
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled.
“Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be back in fifteen. You have to be washed, dressed, packed, and waiting outside by the front office. You return the key, okay?”
“The key?”
“To the room. It’s on the dresser. I already have my bag with me.” He paused. “Are you okay?”
How could I be okay? “Yeah.”
“Great. See you at the car. And remember, fifteen minutes. We’ll be waiting.”
The door closed behind him—locking as it closed—with the key on the dresser. I was alone and he couldn’t get back in. Slowly I climbed out of bed. My legs felt shaky and my stomach was upset. I saw the phone on the night-stand. I should call somebody and tell them … but who? Who should I call? My mind raced around and came up with no answer. I certainly couldn’t call my father, and it wasn’t like my mother would or could do anything without him. Besides, what would I even say to her? What would I say to anybody?
I staggered into the bathroom and closed the door behind me—locking it. I climbed out of the clothes I’d slept in and turned on the shower. Once the hot water was running over my head and down my body, I grabbed the little bar of soap and ripped the wrapper open with my teeth. I lathered it up and started scrubbing away. I just felt so awful … so dirty … so sick to my stomach. My stomach violently convulsed and I threw up. Clear,yellowish, alcohol-smelling vomit bounced off the bottom of the shower stall and up onto my legs, instantly washed away by the water flowing down.
I leaned against the wall, my stomach still heaving, my legs still shaking, and just stood there and let the water continue to wash over me. I just wanted the water to wash everything away.
It all spun around in my head again. It was like a terrible memory—no, not a memory, because it wasn’t like it had actually happened to
me
. It was more like I had seen it on TV, or in a movie … no, wrong again … more like I’d heard it all on the radio, because my eyes had been so tightly closed and the room so dark that I couldn’t see anything. But I could still feel it. Feel the weight on my chest, feel hands on my—my stomach convulsed and I threw up again.
The only thing churning faster than my stomach was my head, trying to make sense of it … it did happen … right? It wasn’t a dream … no, not a dream, a nightmare. A nightmare that was real.
I circled around the side of the motel. Coach’s Escalade was parked there and the three of them were leaning against it, waiting. It had been a lot longer than fifteen minutes. They were all talking loudly and there was lots of laughter. I couldn’t help but think—did what happenedto me happen to Jake that first night? No, it couldn’t have. At least, Jake didn’t act like anything had happened … but wasn’t that how I was trying to act?
“You’re late,” Coach said.
“What were you doing, fixing your makeup?” Josh asked.
“What did you say?” I snapped.
“Um … nothing … just joking around, man.”
“Yeah, chill out,” Jake said. “I told them you were late because you were a late pick in the draft and—”
I dropped my bag and barrelled into Jake, smashing him against the car, and then we both fell into the dirt of the driveway, swinging and kicking as we hit the ground! I connected with a solid shot to the jaw and he screamed in pain. Before he could react, I hit him a second time and a third and—
“Stop it, now!” Coach yelled.
He reached down and grabbed me by the arm and with incredible power yanked me up and away as I still tried to get in a final lick at Jake. Jake staggered to his feet, his hands holding his nose but not the blood flowing out of it.
“You got anything more you want to say?” I screamed.
“You idiot!” he yelled back, his voice muffled by his hands.
“You calling me an idiot? You want some
Similar Books
