Fury (18 page)

He could hear Zach’s angry words as he moved. “Fucking psycho. What the hell is wrong with him?”

Back in his car, Chase’s reflection leered at him, monstrous, from the rearview mirror. His face was practically maroon with exertion, and a yellow-black bruise was already starting to form around his eye. Just above it, there was a bloody cut. He grabbed his sunglasses from the visor and put them on, even though the winter sun was low and dim. He noticed he was shaking uncontrollably as he pulled the car into gear and sped out of the lot.

Pulling up to the trailer, Chase squinted with confusion at the silver BMW that sat outside. Unless they’d won the lottery (and he’d made his mom promise to stop buying lotto tickets about a year ago—they only got her hopes up), there was absolutely no reason for such a rich ride to be outside the house.

As he got out of the car, though, he saw Em sitting inside the BMW. Must be one of her parents’ cars—she usually drove a little dented-up Honda. What the hell was Winters doing out here?

“Hey, Chase,” she said with a note of shyness. And then, after a moment of awkward silence: “You left this at my house.” She held up his playbook in her mittened hand. Chase didn’t know what to say.

“You drove here to give me that?”

“Yeah, well, you’re never without it,” she said. He watched her pull her nose up at her own stupid joke. “I can’t stay, though. I borrowed my dad’s car,” she added, sheepishly pointing to the gleaming silver.

This day couldn’t get any worse. First the fight with Zach, now Emily Winters showing up at the trailer. He didn’t even remember what state of shambles he’d left the place in this morning. For all he knew there was still a burnt Pop-Tart on the kitchen counter. There was no way he was inviting her in. He hoped she didn’t expect anything from him. He had nothing to give. Especially not to her.

Forgetting all about his black eye, he took off his sunglasses, grimacing when his fingers brushed against the bruised bridge of his nose. Em gasped.

“Chase?! What happened to you?”

His hand instinctively went toward his eye. “I got into a fight,” he said sullenly. He couldn’t look at her. “I’m fine.”

“With who? Oh my god. Are you okay? You need to get some ice on that.” He’d seen Emily morph into nurse mode once before—at a Fourth of July party last summer, when Matt Harrison had run straight through a glass door. (It had been so clean that Harrison thought he was running through air.) It was kind of cute when she got like this. But he wanted to be alone.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “It’s just a little black-and-blue. Thanks for the playbook.” He grabbed the binder and moved
toward his door. If he was lucky, maybe she’d just leave.

“Hold on,” Em said. “Let me put some ice on it. And some of this cream. I know my dad keeps it in the car—one of the perks of being a doctor’s daughter. I’m like a walking first-aid kit.”

Before Chase could utter another word, she was rummaging through her glove compartment, tossing questions over her shoulder. “Who did you fight with? Where are you coming from? Does it hurt? Does it feel like you have a concussion?” Apparently she found what she was looking for, and nudged him toward his front door. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t resist, either. He was too exhausted to bother.

Inside, she took off her hood and shook out her long hair. Then she sat him down on a stool at the kitchen counter, found a dish towel, and gently cleaned off his wound.

“Were you with Zach?” Chase could hear the quiver in her voice. What a little shit Zach was. This girl really liked him. He saw the way her eyes got far away for a moment, and he instantly thought of Ty. He knew his eyes looked like that these days too. He nodded, but Em barely paid attention. She just babbled on.

“Oh, cool. I was just wondering. Because . . . like, because . . . we were maybe going to go sweater shopping today but I never heard from him. I was sure he was just with you or whatever but I was just curious—Wait! Was Zach in this fight too?”

She looked at him, stricken. And he knew he had to tell her. Would she want to know? Probably not. Was he doing her a favor? Maybe. Or maybe he was just trying to hurt her, to hurt Zach, to make everyone else’s lives feel as weird and jumbled as his felt right now.

“Yeah, he was in it, Winters. He threw the first punch.”

“Oh my god.” Em’s brown eyes went wide, and she was suddenly, obviously, fascinated. Chase probably could have said Zach picked his nose and Em would have savored the details. “Who were you guys fighting?” she asked, almost under her breath.

“Each other.”

Em took a step back. “I don’t get it.”

“We were playing ice hoops. With the guys. Some stuff came up. Zach punched me. And I punched him back.” Chase shifted on his stool, feeling his eye throbbing in pain. Was she going to help him clean this wound up or not?

“So it was all over a game?”

Chase snorted. “Not exactly. I called him out on being an asshole.”

“Why—why would you say something like that?” Em squeaked.

“Because he
is
an asshole, Winters. I mean, he’s my best friend. Or was. Or whatever. But he treats girls like garbage.”

“What are you talking about?” Em’s face had gone pale, like the snow outside the trailer.

“He’s not going to break up with Gabby, for one thing. He said it, point-blank, in front of a whole bunch of us just this afternoon. And it’s not because he, like, loves Gabby or anything. He likes her. But part of that is just because she’s easy to deal with. He doesn’t have to put in any effort. He can do whatever he wants. And he does.” Chase couldn’t stop now. He was going to spill it all. “He wants to hook up with both of you, so he does. He wants to meet girls from other schools, so he does. That’s the point: He does whatever, whenever he feels like it.”

Emily looked sick. Chase had never seen anyone “turn green” before—even during intense preseason practices, when coach had them do sprints in the summer sun and some of the guys threw up. But Emily’s skin now had a decidedly puke-green tint to it.

“You’re a liar.” She said it quietly but furiously. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Chase sighed. Now that he’d spilled everything, he regretted it. Of course she wouldn’t believe him. But now he was in too deep to just let it go. “I do, Emily. I’m sorry, but I know
exactly
what I’m talking about.” It was, he thought, the only time he’d ever addressed her by her first name.

“Why are you saying this?” She was louder now. Almost hysterical. Chase felt bad, but she needed to know. “It’s not true!”

“Look at this,” he said, scrolling through his phone. He
found what he was looking for and held it out to her.
From Zach McCord,
it plainly said. It was from three days ago, when Chase had walked in on her and Zach. It read:
Hey man, thanks for the cock block. I only have a few days to make this happen, asshole. Lol.

And then another one:
Mtg that UMaine chick later. U should come if she has hot friends.

Em grabbed the phone from his hand. He watched her eyes run over the words. When she looked back up at him, one tear was spilling down onto her cheek. He looked quickly away. He should never have said anything. He didn’t want to see this.

“You don’t get it,” Em said. “This isn’t what you think it is.”

“Sorry, Winters,” he repeated dumbly. There was nothing else to say. He watched her grab her bag and put on her coat in silence. She slammed the door on her way out; the impact made the thin walls reverberate.

For a second Chase just stood there. He listened to Em’s car start up and peel away. The trailer was stiflingly hot and smelled nauseating, like damp socks and crusted tomato sauce. He needed out. No. He needed Ty. He picked up his phone, which Em had thrown onto the counter like it was on fire. He dialed Ty’s number. It didn’t even ring. Straight to voice mail.

He got up, shuffled to the bathroom, and stared in the mirror. His swollen eye looked bad. What if it was still like this for the Football Feast? Did it even matter anymore?

He dialed Ty’s number one more time. Again, straight to
voice mail. Christ. He wanted her right now. He wanted
something
.

He suddenly remembered the scarf he’d taken from Ty’s the other day. Maybe if he just smelled it, held it in his hands, he would feel better. He stumbled over to where his jeans were draped over the heater.

But when he pulled his hands out of the jeans pocket, there was no delicate white scarf there—just a handful of ashy dust. He let the ash scatter, and brushed his hands off quickly.

Weird. His jeans hadn’t burned—they weren’t even that hot. Was he losing his mind?

He looked down at his hands.

They were streaked in black.

“He’s just jealous. . . . It’s not true. This isn’t true.” Emily repeated the words to herself in a low mumble as she drove away from Chase’s home, one hand on the wheel, the other holding her head up next to the window. She kept the radio off and her eyes, blurry with tears, staring straight ahead. The words of Zach’s text messages looped in her head.

Em shuddered. She wasn’t imagining the connection between her and Zach. She couldn’t be. They had such a spark—such chemistry—and he was really opening up to her. She couldn’t listen to Chase. She had to talk it out with Zach. He would explain everything.

Only a few days to make this happen.
No. That wasn’t Zach. There had to be some misunderstanding.

But the doubts continued to seep in. She couldn’t help
but think about the fact that she and Zach had planned to go sweater shopping today, and he’d never called. Of course she’d popped out of bed at 9 a.m. and gotten dressed in a fake-casual ensemble of her best-fitting jeans and a black cashmere sweater that hung just right. She’d blown out her hair and pulled it back into a “messy” ponytail, choosing carefully which tendrils to pull loose. Then she’d hopped back into bed and stared at the ceiling, dying to call him and willing him to call her first. He hadn’t.

And of course that was fine—he was superbusy, she knew that. But Em had to admit that a small part of the reason she’d driven out to Chase’s house was to try to find out what Zach was up to. (Okay, maybe it was a big part.) That question had been answered: Zach had been hanging out with his friends, playing basketball. Fine. No big deal. But he’d gotten into a fight with Chase? He’d forgotten to call? Maybe she didn’t know Zach as well as she thought she did.

Em was nearing her own street when all of a sudden, without even thinking it through, she slammed on the brakes. Then, with deliberate motions, she pulled into a driveway and made a three-point turn. She was going to Zach’s.

His car was in the driveway, so he was definitely home. The light in his room was the only one on in the house. With the same determination she felt before final exams or the first icy ocean
plunge of the season, she stormed into Zach’s house. No knock. She called out his name.

“Zach?”

She heard his voice, and at first she thought he was talking to her.

“Zach?” She said it again, more quietly this time, advancing toward the staircase. But as she got nearer, Em realized he must be on the phone. She heard him laugh, pause, laugh again, and then say something else. His voice sounded light, friendly, flirtatious—the way it did when he was talking to her. Or Gabby. Who was he talking to? He sure as hell wasn’t shooting the shit with a
guy
friend.

Em started walking up the stairs on her tiptoes. As she neared the landing, Zach’s words became clearer. “Totally, me too,” he was saying. And then: “I miss you too, Gabsy.”

Em had never heard him use this pet name, but Gabby had told her about it several times. All of a sudden she felt like she might throw up. She had to steady herself on the staircase banister as he continued talking.

“Let’s go out to a nice dinner in Portland when you get back,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you. And kiss you.” Pause. “Bye babe.”

He hadn’t even put down his iPhone when Em came charging through his bedroom door. She didn’t care that she looked insane, that she’d been creeping around in his house, that he
looked genuinely shocked and horrified to see her there. She’d heard enough. Chase was right; Zach had zero intention of breaking up with Gabby. This was all a game.

“Em?” Zach stammered. His lip was swollen and his hair was sticking out all over the place. There were bloody tissues all over his room. Even so, he looked hot—wounded and tough. Em took a deep breath, reminding herself why she was there, why she was angry.

“So you and Gabby will go out for a nice dinner when she gets back, huh? Is that where you’ll break up with her? Or is that when you’ll kiss her? Jesus. Everyone is right about you.” Her fingers were clammy and kept sticking to her hair as she repeatedly tucked it behind her ears.

“Em . . .” She could practically see the wheels turning, the lies forming, in his head. But then something happened; his expression changed. He looked calm, or at least resigned. “You’re right. I don’t know what to say. Except—”

“Did you even like me at all?” She didn’t mean to ask. But she had to know. She had to know she wasn’t just making it up. “Were you ever going to break up with her?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Look, Em, I do like being with you. You’re great. I just . . . I also like being with Gabby. It’s kind of like how I play basketball, football, and soccer. I like them all. You know?”

“People are not sports, Zach.” Em felt like her heart had
migrated up to the space below her collarbone. “You can only have one girlfriend. Do the math. Oh wait, I forgot. Math isn’t exactly your strong suit.” The words flew out of her mouth.

Zach nodded. “I probably deserved that.”

Em bit back the impulse to say she was sorry. She would
not
apologize. Not to him—not now.

Zach got up off the bed, started pacing around the room, even as Em held on to the cold plaster wall for support. Then, abruptly, he asked, “Do you know how my mom met my stepdad?”

“What?” Em’s frustration, and anger, and resentment made her head feel like it would burst. What was he talking about now? She tried to breathe, tried to hear him talk. Part of her still hoped there was some way out of this mess—some way to go back and reclaim that feeling they had the other day, curled up together. Like this was right. She wanted to believe that the texts Chase had shown her were a huge mistake.