Not Yet (32 page)

“Help me!” I could hear Billy calling out as I
rounded the corner and saw Jared Watson holding him high in the air
by his pants, showing the crowd both his brute strength and Billy’s
weakness. A few other juniors were playing hot-potato with Billy’s
backpack, glasses, and even shoes, enjoying the helplessness
written all over his—my teammate’s—face.

I saw Billy’s face, only for a second, and then all I
saw was white. The hallway suddenly narrowed, the laughter from the
other kids muted, and everyone’s movements became sluggish, as if
they were in slow motion. I saw everything that was wrong in my
life in front of me. I had the power to stop this. I could finally
stand up and do the right thing. I cared about someone, only
because I wanted to stop their suffering, not because it benefitted
me in any way.

And that was the last rational thought I had.

I had a vague awareness of Dean beside me as the air
rushed against my face. I knew I was running fast, but I wasn’t in
control of my legs. I was relieved when Dean grabbed Billy from
Jared before I unleashed.

My fist first connected with Jared’s head, snapping
it back, again as if in slow motion for me, but a violent racking
for Jared. Then I delivered a series of body shots that made the
lockers behind Jared sound like they would come off the wall. I’d
shocked him, so he wasn’t ready to retaliate or protect himself. He
hunched over, wheezing, the breath knocked from him and his nose
now disfigured.

In the background, I heard his friends yelling at him
to fight back. Then Dean roared and they scattered, dropping
Billy’s belongings on the floor and running away. I let it all out.
I let the pressure out and let someone else feel all of my
pain—which was unfortunate for Jared. “Stop picking on people, you
motherfucking asshole!” I screamed as I pummeled his chest, his
stomach, and his shoulders.

“Be a man. Be a FUCKING MAN!” The words were ripped
from inside of me as I punched Jared over and over. The hurt and
the anger and the disappointment from the past months poured out of
me. I would never again be the person who looked the other way. In
the back of my mind, I wondered why I’d bothered with words. He’d
never listen to them. But he’d sure as hell hear my fists.

I felt the vise inside me releasing its grip. I
smelled the sweet, but metallic, smell of blood in the air. The
crunch of bones against teeth filled my ears and heat blazed from
my pores as strongly as if I stood in the desert sun. There was
blood everywhere, mostly oozing from Jared’s face, but also a fair
amount from my knuckles. There was a sharp pain running through my
hand and up my arm, but it was dulled by the rush of energy
streaming through me. There was no stopping this—until I heard
her.

“Stop!” Emma screamed. “Stop, Landon!”

She ran to us and Dean jumped onto my back, wrapping
his arms around my chest, and pulling me away. “Calm down, man.
C’mon, Landon. It’s okay. You got him. He heard you. Calm down.”
Dean whispered in my ear as he held me back and I started to
shake.

The pressure and pain that had built inside of me was
gone, but was quickly replaced with an overwhelming sense of
dread.

Jared lay on the floor, covered in blood, whimpering
as Emma crouched next to him, speaking softly. She raised her head
and met my gaze as I shuddered. Her eyes told me everything in that
moment. This was bad in ways I couldn’t even understand yet.

***

PRINCIPAL MAHONEY AND Ford ran up. Principal
Mahoney rolled Jared over to see his beaten and swollen face.
“Emma, call an ambulance. Ford, get Landon and Dean to my office,
now!”

Principal Mahoney and I sat by Jared, talking to him
until the ambulance arrived. Looking up, Billy stood there with
paper towels and ice packs, urging me to give them to Jared. The
look of guilt on Billy’s face, as if he was somehow to blame,
infuriated me. It was always the innocent victims that tried to
find reason in an unreasonable situation.

“Thank you, Billy.” As he showed me a small, gentle
smile, it occurred to me who the real man in the situation was.

The paramedics evaluated Jared and said he most
likely had bruised ribs and other superficial wounds, but they
still took him to the hospital.

I left school in a haze, not knowing what happened to
Landon or Dean.

The next morning the school was in mayhem. Dean
stopped into my classroom before school began. “Ms. Harris, thanks
for your help yesterday. I don’t know what got into him, but he
just snapped.” Dean sat on a desk and I walked to him,
concerned.

“Is he okay?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s suspended for five days. Jared
got two days for bullying Billy. Jared is pretty beat up, but he
can still play ball this weekend. Landon—he broke his hand.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. Please tell him I said that.”
Dean nodded. “And, Dean, thanks for coming to tell me. I really
appreciate it.”

Dean smiled and started to leave. Turning at the
door, he spoke in a hushed voice. “You know, he told me over the
summer that he met a college chick who was the most beautiful girl
he’d ever seen but also wicked smart and cool. He said he was in
love. I didn’t put two and two together until the track meet.
Landon was such a player before. This year, nothing, nada—all year.
I know it doesn’t matter now, but he’s like a brother to me. He’s a
good person, the real deal. I think he loves you, and I think you
should love him back.”

This time I could only nod, swallowing my emotion, as
Dean left the room. Landon’s five day suspension was the talk of
the school. I didn’t hear about anything but the fight for several
days, and I hoped for everyone’s sake that it would soon blow
over.

Prom was only a month away and if I thought
Homecoming was bad, I was sorely mistaken. Every morning some idiot
was singing into the loudspeakers, asking his love to the big
dance. Flowers were delivered to classrooms, cars were decorated
with proposals, and banners were hung on the school building
itself. My absolute favorite was the man hired to dress in an ape
costume and ask Stephanie Romley to Prom on behalf of Phil Vassil,
during my Econ class. It was so over-the-top stupid she actually
looked pissed. And I loved every second of it.

I asked Amy at lunch if she was going to Prom. She
looked down, sad for a moment, before she smiled and told me she
was, again, going solo. She and her mom had picked out a pretty
pink strapless, satin gown and she was thrilled to wear it. I told
her I was chaperoning, so I would be there solo, too. We convinced
ourselves that we were too cool for dates anyway, and we agreed to
meet at the punch bowl and share a few dances to our favorite
songs.

With Prom fever rampant, I couldn’t help but wonder
who Landon would take. It would be hard to see him in a tux. I knew
he would look devastatingly handsome, and yet I couldn’t even
acknowledge him. Still, with his suspension and the end of our…
whatever it was… It would be enough just to see him happy
again.

Friday was another spring soaker, with torrential
downpours all day long. It was the middle of the afternoon and the
sky was dark gray with clouds. The chilly rain came down in
buckets, pooling on the roads and causing flash flood warnings all
over Boone County. I drove home slowly, fearing my worn tires would
skid on the slick roads. As I pulled into our lot, Landon’s big
black truck was parked in a visitor’s space. I knew I shouldn’t
speak to him. It would be safer not to have even verbal contact,
but knowing he was hurting was more than I could take. I threw on
my hood and jumped out into the pouring rain. I may have had a
raincoat on, but I was drenched to the bone the moment I left my
car. I ran to his passenger door, not bothering to knock, and
jumped inside.

“Whew!” I shook the rain off my jacket and wiped my
eyes. As soon as my vision cleared, I drew in my breath. Landon’s
pain was indisputable and it shot through me. He rested his head on
the steering wheel, eyes closed. His hand was casted and wrapped in
gauze. He looked horrible. Pale skin, red eyes, and stubble on his
cheeks. I wanted to comfort him—but I couldn’t even touch him.

“Landon? Are you okay?” I asked quietly. I worried
that, like a wounded animal, he would flee and hurt himself
more.

He laughed a hard, tortured laugh. It sounded
familiar. I knew that sound because it came from being jaded with
life. It came from making mistakes, being punished, and finding out
how unfair it could all be. I knew that laugh very, very, well.

“Am I okay, Em? Am I okay?” He opened his eyes and
the empty distance was clear. Those brown eyes had been so full of
spirit and warmth. Now they looked haunted. “I lost it all, Emma. I
lost everything.” He took a ragged breath and leaned back against
the headrest.

“Landon, what are you talking about?” His agony was
overwhelming me and tears welled up behind my eyes. He turned to
look at me and his face crumpled in pain.

“My right hand is broken bad enough that Coach Stone
had to tell IU football. They pulled my scholarship because of the
injury, the fighting, and the suspension on my record. No IU and no
football.” Landon closed his eyes again and drew in a jagged
breath.

“No. No….Landon, Oh God, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t care
anymore about the no contact rule. I had to offer him some comfort.
I grabbed his uninjured hand, but he recoiled.

“Don’t touch me, Emma.” He spit the words out and I
blanched. His reaction was clipped and raw—so opposite of how I
knew him to be. “I shouldn’t even be here, but I didn’t know where
else to go. If you touch me, you could lose your recommendation. I
can’t cause you any more problems. All I do is fuck things up.”