Blind Rage (11 page)

“Okay, Einstein,” she said out in the hallway, “where to next?”

“Lunch,” I said. “I’m starved.”

I took her arm and followed the scent of cafeteria food. Classrooms of students spilled into the halls, creating pandemonium that made me dizzy. For a moment I thought Tess was lucky she couldn’t see, but I quickly realized I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. She was silent on the way to the commons. I didn’t know if she had a lot on her mind or if she was still ticked off. If I’d been a gambling man, I’d have bet on the latter.

The clamor doubled in the commons, with more students using their mouths to yammer at each other than eat. A football sailed by, narrowly missing my head. An Asian kid at a nearby table dealt cards to the rest of the table and called for bets in Cantonese. Snippets of conversation from a table full of girls suggested they were comparing notes on the boys playing the impromptu game of football. A couple of geeky-looking guys with long hair sat side-by-side peering at their laptop screens. Everywhere I looked, forty-pound backpacks thunked onto tabletops or the floor, chairs scraped, and bodies moved: sitting, standing, walking, dancing.

I spotted some empty chairs on the far side and led Tess in that direction. She still wasn’t talking. As I started to seat her, open-mouthed stares ringing the table made me pause.

“What?” I said.

A skinny kid gave me a one-eyed glance from under a fringe of bangs.

“Uh, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Like, we’re
freshmen
.” He sounded embarrassed.

Tess blanched, mortified once again.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “I’m new here.”

I steered Tess away from that section of the cafeteria.

“What other rules don’t I know?” I grumbled in her ear.

“There are territories, boundaries you don’t cross,” she hissed. “Not that anyone couldn’t sit with freshmen, but who would want to? Know what I mean?”

“Okay, so where do seniors sit?”

“Middle to far end of the upper level.”

“Got it. Anybody in particular you’d rather steer clear of?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I suppose not.”

Her mouth twisted in a grimace. There was something else she wasn’t telling me, but I clamped my jaw shut. Spotting a couple of empty chairs a few tables away, I changed direction, pulling on her elbow. A table full of beefy guys gawked and snickered as we approached, nudging each other in the ribs and pointing our way. Subtle. A few of them shifted in their seats, faced the center of the table, and tipped their heads down as we got closer. Others continued to leer, leaning toward each other to mutter conspiratorially, no doubt sharing bad jokes.

A round-faced kid with a mop of brown hair in need of a cut and acne that marred what might have been decent looks openly stared with a smirk on his face. He leaned back in his chair, arm draped over the back.

I tipped my head. “Hey, how’s it going?”

He grinned. “Good, man.”

He looked relaxed, at ease, king of his little fiefdom, so I took my eye off him for a second, looking ahead to maneuver Tess through the tight space between tables and milling students. My mistake. I didn’t see him move, so I couldn’t swear to it, but it couldn’t have happened any other way. I tripped over his foot and went down, sprawling on the floor, almost taking Tess with me.

Tess tensed, the feeling of Oliver’s hand gripping her arm now an irritation instead of a comfort. He seemed so clueless, as if he’d never set foot in a high school before. She’d found it difficult enough to navigate its perils when she’d been able to see. The thought of relying on him didn’t comfort her. She cringed, wondering how many of the freshmen were laughing at her. Oliver’s grip was unyielding; she had no choice but to follow his lead. Energy radiated off him in waves, shimmering in the space between them. Not anger, she sensed, but annoyance. She tried to pull away from it, but he held firm.

A smattering of sing-song syllables reached her ears over the general din. The Asian table, which shunned her because she was half white-bread American—even though a lot of white kids looked down on her because she was half Chinese. The “randoms” were next, followed by the cheerleaders and the jocks. Sure enough, a few steps later she heard the soft click of keyboard keys and the odd conversation of kids who didn’t seem to fit into any of the other cliques. Almost drowning them out were the high-pitched squeals and excited chatter of the girls at the next table. Definitely cheerleaders.

Despite how bright she knew most of them were, the vapid conversations that floated to her ears reinforced the dumb cheerleader stereotype. With their combined brainpower they could rule the school, if not the world. She wondered why all they seemed capable of discussing was boys and makeup tips. She knew she shouldn’t generalize. After all, Adrienne was a cheerleader, and she’d been Tess’s best friend—once. Now, Tess wasn’t so sure. Adrienne had come to visit Tess just one time during her year of recuperation. Tess hadn’t been ready to talk to her—to anyone—and had turned her best friend away. Adrienne had never come back.

The cheerleaders’ table went silent as she and Oliver passed, and Tess felt their laser stares excising holes in her flesh and her soul. The low-pitched laughter of the boys at the next table reverberated loudly in the absence of competing chatter from the girls. Tess straightened and aimed her sightless eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the snub of the girls’ silence.

“What a bitch,” someone muttered as she passed.

“She’s such a chonky,” someone else said.

Tess bit her lip and choked back a sob.

They think I’m being rude? Do they think I’m supposed to automatically say hello to people I can’t even see?

Tess felt Oliver’s fingers tighten on her arm for a second, but he didn’t say anything. She followed hesitantly as he took small steps, pulling her through the maze of chairs, tables, and moving students.

He suddenly tugged on her arm. Instinctively, she stopped and jerked upright to maintain her balance. His fingers left her arm altogether. From the floor in front of her came a soft thud. Gales of laughter erupted a few feet away.

“Talk about the blind leading the blind,” a voice said.

Tess recognized it immediately, and the warmth flushing her face came as much from anger as embarrassment.

She whirled toward the source. “What did you do, Carl?”

“Carl who?” the voice said mockingly. “I’m not Carl.”

“I’m blind, not deaf,” Tess said. “I’d know your voice anywhere, Carl.”

She heard scuffling at her feet, and felt Oliver’s presence at her side, his subtle scent increasingly familiar and oddly comforting.

“No big deal,” Oliver murmured in her ear. “Guy’s a jerk, but no harm done.”

“Who you callin’ a jerk?” Carl said.

A chair scraped on the floor.

“Did he trip you?” Tess said to Oliver.

“The dweeb’s a klutz, Barrett,” Carl said, his voice closer now. “You’d have been better off with a dog. Oh, I forgot. You eat dogs, don’t you?”

Laughter surrounded her once more.

“Shut up, Carl!” Tess said.

Oliver murmured in her ear again. “It’s okay. I can handle this. Let’s just go sit down.”

“Not till you apologize for callin’ me a jerk,” Carl said.

“Excuse us, jerk,” Oliver said. “Please.”

“Hey, butthead, you can’t—”

“What’s going on?” another voice asked.

Tess caught a whiff of woodsy cologne and trembled involuntarily. She knew this voice, too, but she wished she’d been able to forget it in the months since the accident. Toby Cavanaugh.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Oliver said.

“Yeah,” Carl said, “nothing you can’t handle without a blind girl’s help.”

“Carl!” Toby said. “Give it a rest.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You okay, Tess?” Toby said.

“I’m fine,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from quavering. “It’s Oliver you should be asking. After Carl tripped him . . .”

“Oliver, is it? I’m Toby. Everything cool?”

“Sure, everything’s cool. We were just finding a place to sit.”

“We can make room at our table. C’mon, sit over here.”

“We—” Tess started to object, but Oliver spoke over her.

“Thanks, we’ll take you up on that.”

Oliver’s hand cupped her elbow and steered her forward. Before she knew it, a chair was slipped under her and she was scooted up until her elbows gently bumped a table.

“Is everything all right, Toby?” a girl said.

Tess shuddered inside, but she plastered a smile on her face.

“Yeah, babe, it’s all good,” Toby said.

“Hello, Adrienne,” Tess said quietly.

“Tess! I . . . I didn’t . . .”

“You didn’t think I’d recognize you? Because I can’t see? I do know your voice, Addie. It’s not like we weren’t—oh, I don’t know—friends once.”

“We still are, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, Adrienne. You tell me. I haven’t seen you in, what, a year?”

“You haven’t seen me because, well, you can’t see, Tess.”

Tess’s ears burned. “You know what I mean. I haven’t heard from you in that long, either. And I can still hear.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Oliver said. “No reason we can’t all get along, is there? Tess, what do you want for lunch?”

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered.

Oliver put his lips next to her ear and spoke softly. “We went to all the trouble of finding a table; you’re having something to eat. Sandwich? Turkey and cheese?”

Tess reached up, found the back of his neck, and held him still.

“Don’t leave me here with them,” she whispered. “Please.”

Oliver patted her hand and straightened, pulling away from her grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he said cheerfully.

“So,” Adrienne said, “how are you, Tess?”

“Peachy. I nearly died. I can’t see. How do you think I am?”

“Lay off, Tess,” Toby said.

Tess could hardly believe her ears. “You’re defending her?”

“She just asked how you’re doing. No need to give her a hard time.”

“Oh, my God, Toby!” Tess said. “Are you, like, seeing her? Are you and Addie together?”

She didn’t want to know the answer. She jumped up, a sob escaping her lips, and stumbled away from the table. Arms flailing, she ran into someone.

“Hey! Watch it!”

She turned bounced off and ran into a chair. Fighting back tears, she felt her way past one obstacle after another, with no idea where she was going, only the desperate desire to get away.

“Tess!” Toby called. “Tess, stop!”

She forged ahead, jeers and laughter surrounding her frantic attempts to feel her way through the maze of bodies and furniture.

“Tess, please stop,” Toby said, his voice now directly in front of her.

She whirled to one side. A hand latched onto her arm gently.

“I’ve got you,” Oliver said into her ear.

She clutched at him, and a sob broke loose from her throat.

“Take me home! Please, Oliver!”

“Where are you going?” Toby said. “Tess?”

“I’m getting her out of here,” Oliver said. “She’s had enough.”

She hung onto Oliver’s arm as he led her to a door leading outside. The cool air on her face had never felt so good. The door slammed behind them, shutting out the lunchroom cacophony, all the snide comments and hoots of amusement that she knew were accompanied by stares of disgust and, worse, pity. She swiped at the wet tracks on her face.

“I can’t leave you alone for ten seconds,” Oliver muttered.

“What? This is
my
fault?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, and she hoped he felt guilty for even suggesting she’d caused that awful lunchroom scene.

“High school sucks,” Oliver said.

She couldn’t have agreed more, but it went without saying.

“You’ve gotta get over it, Tess,” Oliver went on. “I know this is your first day, and it’s been rough on you. But every day is going to have its bumps. There will always be some inconsiderate ass that belittles you or insults you or makes fun of you.”

“You’re such a jerk. I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”

“That’s my point. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, or put you down. I just think you’re going to have to grow thicker skin if you want to get out of this place alive. You’ve got, what, three months? Less? Then you’re off to college.”

Tess wanted to pound him with her fists and scream at him, but she didn’t. Part of her knew he was right. She didn’t need Toby or Adrienne. She’d gotten along fine without them for a year.

“My books!” she said suddenly.

“I’ve got them right here,” Oliver said.

“Thanks,” she said, relief washing over her.

“You sure this is okay? Skipping out on your last class?”

“No, but I can’t take any more. Please, Oliver?”

“Hey, I’m not the one going to high school here. Guess you’ll have to figure out how to make it up.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

“No need to get touchy. I’m just saying, is all.”

“Got it. Now can we please go home?”

“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

Oliver tugged gently on her arm, bringing her to a stop. A car alarm chirped next to her, and then the car door opened. Tess felt for the doorframe, faced out, and eased into the passenger seat. She swung her legs into the car. Oliver reached over her, set her bag on the floor at her feet, and shut the door.

Tess’s cell phone beeped. She reached down, felt her bag for the right pocket and fished it out. Feeling carefully, she pressed some keys on the keyboard to activate the text-to-voice feature.

“You have one unread e-mail,” intoned a voice, “from Dad.”

Tess screamed.

One year earlier. . .

Travis turned into the drive with a nod to the workman at the side of the road. The workman stood a few yards from a cable company truck, bent over an open manhole. A beefy man with a five-day-old beard, he looked up briefly as Travis passed, his expression impassive. Travis knew another man sat inside the vehicle. The one outside was Fred. The one in the truck was a short little fireplug named Barney, and Travis knew that anyone who cracked a joke about the pair’s names faced the threat of a mouthful of fist.