Gabrielle's Bully (Young Adult Romance) (18 page)

The bare skin of his back was damp and silky under my fingers, and I ran my hands up and down his spine, loving the feel of him, attempting to show him with my touch that he wasn’t alone. I kissed his shoulder, his neck, and he shuddered, sinking his hands in my hair and raising my head, kissing me on the mouth. We stood locked that way, and I could feel him returning to normal with the assurance that I was still with him, that nothing had changed despite the ugliness of his recent behavior.

“I’m sorry, Gaby,” he said against my mouth. “I didn’t mean to do that, he gave me no choice, he just wouldn’t quit. You know, you saw it, what else could I. . .”

“Shh, shh,” I said soothingly. “It doesn’t matter now. Just try to calm down, we’ll work this out.”

He made a small sound in his throat and kissed me again, pulling me tighter against him.

“Gabrielle! I don’t think this is the use for which the gym was intended.”

It was the absent Miss Aynsley, returning at the worst possible moment.

I sprang away from Heath, mortified. Dear heaven, why did she have to see us? And parent conferences were in two weeks, what if she told my mother? Her already low opinion of Heath would plummet to new depths. How could I possibly explain that this wasn’t the way it looked? It certainly looked bad enough.

“I suggest that the two of you make tracks,” Miss Aynsley said dryly. “I understand we’ve already had one unscheduled athletic event in here today, I don’t want another.” She surveyed Heath coolly. “Don’t you think you’d better get dressed?”

Heath glanced down at himself, as if realizing for the first time that he wasn’t wearing his shirt. He walked over and picked it up, shrugging into it quickly, putting his coat over his arm. I got my things and we headed for the hall, as Miss Aynsley rattled her keys and locked the doors behind us.

Heath closed his eyes and leaned against a bulletin board, totally spent. I noticed that his upper lip was puffy and he had a long, vivid scratch next to his right eye. The knuckles on his hands were scraped raw. Jeff had landed a few telling blows before Heath had gained the advantage.

Barbara and Mike rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, walking toward us. Both of them were looking at Heath as if he might attack them at any moment.

“How is Jeff?” I asked Mike.

“He’ll live,” Mike answered shortly.

“He’s not hurt badly?” I asked, remembering what Mr. Jackman had said.

“I don’t think so, though it would serve him right if he were,” Mike said disgustedly. “He knew Heath could box, but he’s such a jackass he had to take him on anyway.” He cast his eyes in Heath’s direction. “How is he?”

“I’m fine,” Heath said, not opening his eyes. “Please stop talking about me as if I weren’t here.”

Mike smiled faintly at the return of the old, familiar Heath. “Glad to hear it, buddy,” he said. “What do you say we blow this dump?”

“I’m for that,” Barbara said.

“Let me drive,” Mike added. “You can pick up your car tomorrow.”

Heath was in no mood to argue. He trudged along with us to the parking lot, silent, lost in thought.

Mike’s car was a vintage Mustang that had seen better days. Heath and I piled into the backseat, which was split and disgorging stuffing. We had to clear a space by tossing hockey skates, a face mask, and several pucks onto the floor. Mike was a goalie on a regional team.

Barb’s house was closest, and I got out with her and walked her to the door.

“What are you going to do with Heath?” she asked me anxiously. “He looks terrible. I don’t think you should just let him go home by himself.”

“I can’t take him to my house,” I said. “My mother would not be happy at all if she saw him.”

“Can’t you stay with him for a while at his house?”

“His father and that girlfriend of his are there,” I said.

“Great.” She thought for a moment. “Why don’t you bring him inside? We can clean him up and he can take a nap, or something.”

I stared at her. The upset of the past few hours had affected her mind. “Barb, if my mother would be unhappy, your mother would have hysterics.”

She made an impatient gesture. “Oh, for God’s sake, Gaby, don’t be an idiot. My mother isn’t home. Remember I told you that she and my father were going to that conference? It’s only Margie, and she’s seen a lot worse.”

Margie was a nursing student and worked part time in a veteran’s hospital.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll try to get him to come in.”

I went back to the car and explained the situation. I thought that Heath might object, but all the fight seemed knocked out of him. He had expended it all on Jeff. He merely got out of the car and followed me to the house.

“Tell Barb I’ll call her later,” Mike hollered after us.

Barb’s sister Margie took one look at Heath and rolled her eyes. “Well, well. How does the other guy look?”

“Worse,” Barb said.

“I hope that’s some satisfaction,” Margie said. She pointed to a kitchen chair. “Sit right there.”

Heath obeyed. Barb looked at me and grinned. Margie was going to play nurse.

Margie washed the cut on Heath’s face and put disinfectant on it, and cleaned his hands, swabbing them with iodine. She touched the swelling lip gingerly, and Heath winced.

“Better put some ice on that,” she said, getting an insulated bag from the pantry and filling it with cubes. Heath held it to his mouth gratefully.

“Feels good?” Margie asked.

Heath nodded.

“Okay. Why don’t you take that with you and lie down in the room across the hall. I think what you need more than anything is rest.”

Heath looked at me.
 

“I’ll be right here,” I said to him.

Margie took Heath to the bedroom and returned in short order.

“Thanks a lot, Margie,” I said. She had certainly chosen the right profession.

“He fell on that bed like a ton of bricks,” Margie said. “I don’t think we’ll be hearing from him for a few hours.”

“You’d better call your mother,” Barb said to me.

As I went to the hall phone I heard Margie say to Barb, “What on earth happened to him?”

Barb’s low voice recounted the afternoon’s events as I dialed my number.

Craig answered, which meant that my mother wasn’t around. He never picked it up if there was anyone else there to do it.

“Where’s Mom?” I said to him.

“She went to the store.”

“Isn’t Daddy there?”

“He’s in the garage, changing the oil in his car.”

“All right. I’m at Barbara’s, and I’m staying for dinner. Will you remember to tell Mom?”

“Of course I’ll remember,” said the boy who forgot everything, including his lunch, his bus fare, and his homework.

“Put a note on the refrigerator,” I said.

“I told you I’ll remember,” Craig insisted, in tones of righteous indignation at my lack of faith in him.

“Craig, please do it now,” I said patiently. “I’ll wait while you write it.” All I needed was for my parents to get worried about me and start canvassing. I didn’t want to go through any elaborate explanations tonight.

I heard the phone hit the table as he left, and then he came back on. “I wrote it, Gaby.”

“Good boy,” I said warmly. He could be a charmer when he chose.

I hung up and rejoined Barb and her sister in the kitchen.

“What did she say?” Barb asked.

“I talked to Craig and left a message.”

“You’d better call back later, anyway,” said Barbara, who had had some experience with Craig’s lapses in concentration.
 

“I will.” This was not a day to tempt fate.

 
Margie got up and started pulling open cabinets. “Well, ladies, let’s see what we’ve got to eat.”

We joined her in rummaging through the provisions, while Heath slept unaware on the day bed in Mrs. Collier’s sewing room.

Chapter 9

We made spaghetti and saved some of it for Heath. Barb and I were doing the dishes when she said to me, “Do you think we should call Heath’s house? Maybe his father will wonder where he is.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I was used to Heath being responsible only to himself, but that was because his father usually wasn’t around.

“I guess I’d better do it,” I said without much enthusiasm. What if I were asked some questions I couldn’t answer?

The problem I was anticipating didn’t materialize. When I called Roger answered the phone and he told me that Heath’s father was out to dinner.

So much for his imagined concern. I left the message that Heath would be home later and hung up, disgusted.

Heath slept until nine o’clock. We were watching a movie on television when he stumbled into the living room, still half asleep.

“Lazarus has risen from the dead,” Margie announced.

“How do you feel?” I asked him.

“I’ve felt better,” he answered briefly.

“Do you want something to eat?” Margie said.

He shook his head. “I’d like to take a shower, though, if I could.”

“This hotel provides all the amenities,” Margie stated, with a sweeping gesture. “Follow me.”

She led the way upstairs to the bathroom, and Heath trailed in her wake.

“What do you think Jackman’s going to do to him?” I asked Barbara, following his retreating figure with my eyes.

“I think it’s safe to say he won’t be giving him the Student of the Year Award.”

“Seriously. What’s the penalty for fighting in school?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have one of those handbooks?” The school published a student handbook each year with a list of infractions and the punishment for each. I had never paid much attention to it, but then again I didn’t go in much for fistfights.

“There should be one around somewhere, maybe up in my room. Want me to look?”

“Would you?”

She uncoiled herself from the easy chair and left me to the unfunny antics of the comedian on the tube.

Barb returned a few minutes later with the little green book, stapled like a pamphlet. “I can’t believe I found it,” she said. “It was right where it was supposed to be and I’m not used to that.”

I knew what she meant. Barbara’s bedroom was like her locker at school, except on a grander scale.

The penalty for fighting was exactly what I feared, suspension. The duration of the suspension was at the discretion of the administrator, and after witnessing Mr. Jackman’s reaction I feared that it wouldn’t be a short term. During suspension you were not allowed to make up any missed work and you received an automatic failure on all tests. In other words, if they suspended you long enough they guaranteed that you flunked your courses. Both Jeff and Heath were seniors. If Jackman decided to throw the book at them neither one of them would graduate.

I felt an overwhelming sense of rage at Jeff’s bullying stupidity. I didn’t care if he threw himself down a well, but he was dragging Heath along with him.

Barbara read my face. “Not good, huh?”

I recited the phrasing verbatim from the handbook.

“Oh, boy. I hope Jackman has an attack of charity tomorrow morning.”

Margie returned to say that Heath was showering. She had a lab report to write and went out to the kitchen to work.

“I gave Heath one of Dad’s shirts, his was a mess,” she said in parting. “And try to get him to eat something. After that fight his glycogen must be really depleted, and he could feel weak or pass out if he doesn’t get some carbohydrates into his system.”

“We should never have sent her to nursing school,” Barb commented darkly.

“Don’t say that,” I answered. “She was really helpful tonight.”

“You don’t have to live with her. All she does is lecture us on our poor nutritional habits, and thanks to her any number of tasty items have vanished from the menu around here. She’s convinced my mother that she’s poisoning us if we don’t have three balanced meals a day. Goodbye pizza, chili dogs, and tacos, hello cottage cheese and whole grain bread.”

“You seem to be surviving,” I replied.

“Mike is very good about providing a fast food fix whenever I need one.”

We looked up as Heath entered, his hair still wet, wearing Mr. Collier’s outsized shirt tucked into his pants. It billowed out from his waist like a kite in the wind.

“Very attractive,” Barb said. “I think you should wear it to school tomorrow.”

“I should wear sackcloth and ashes to school tomorrow,” Heath said, defeated by the prospect. “I’m going to get it.”

Now that he had revived, he was thinking about the consequences of his actions.

“My sister says that you should eat,” Barb said. “That means if you don’t, she’ll force feed you.”

“Okay,” Heath answered.

“I’ll warm up the spaghetti,” Barb announced, heading for the kitchen.