Louder Than Words (17 page)

A church bell in the distance rang four times. “The school building is closing in fifteen minutes. It’s time to go home, kids, as much as you love this place. But chin up, you get to come back, bright and early tomorrow morning.” Mr. Carson fancied himself a comedian and liked to use the school’s PA system to share his talent with the student body.

I put my notebooks in my backpack and left the library, heading for the locker room. Charlotte had texted me twice to remind me to bring my gym clothes home for a bath before they walked back to the house on their own. Everyone else had apparently left for the day, and I could hear the rhythmic tick of the oversized black and white clocks that hung all over the school. Hopefully, the gym wasn’t already locked. No games were scheduled on Wednesdays.

As I rounded the corner, a voice startled me. “Hey there, Sasha. Long time, no see.”

Out of the boys’ locker room paraded my four tormentors. I had not seen them up close, nor had they spoken to me, since our rumble in the park. With Ben in my life, I’d no longer felt the need to act out, so I hadn’t been to detention in ages.

Eyes down, I thought I could make it to the safety of the girls’ locker room, but they followed me through the swinging doors. Like the rest of the school, it was deserted. Just my luck. A student body of close to a thousand, and the building was empty except for the five of us.

“Wait up, cutie. What’s the rush?”

Like pack hunters, they surrounded me and I stood, my back against a bank of lockers, wondering how I managed to end up in such an awkward position with these goons not once, but twice.

“Were you worried about us? We’re all better now—you wanna see?” Jed asked.

I didn’t answer, just stared past them, wondering if I tried to run, how many seconds it would take for them to catch me.

“We know it was you who put that shit in our jock straps,” Paul said.

I shook my head, my palms already damp with sweat.

“Who else would do that to us?”

Trying to breathe normally, I shrugged.

“What about that fuckface with the chucks?”

Shrugging and shaking my head at the same time, I stared at the ceiling.

“You don’t look too sure about that. BTW, where is he? Isn’t he usually two steps behind you?” Tom asked.

Not knowing what else to do, I shrugged again. I looked as idiotic as they sounded.

“While we’re waiting for him, maybe we could try to finish what we started. No hard feelings.” All four guffawed. “Well, maybe a few … hard … feelings.” Paul put his hand on his zipper.

The locker room was closer to civilization than an empty park in the middle of winter, and I figured if I didn’t show my fear, I could get out of this latest calamity on my own. Maybe. I held up my middle finger.

“That’s right. I’m glad we’re thinking the same thing. Except I like to call it making love.”

Jed took my hand, kissed my fuck-you finger, and put his other hand on the crotch of my sweats. All the blood rushed from my head and I saw stars. This couldn’t be happening again. And while I did have pepper spray this time, it was buried uselessly at the bottom of my backpack.

With his thumb, Jed rubbed me through my pants and whispered, “You like that. I can feel how hot you are.”

If I fainted now, would that scare them away? Or would I simply get a concussion when my head hit the floor?

Sneakers squeaked on the linoleum outside the door, and I prayed that it was a lacrosse player returning to retrieve a forgotten stick.
Turn left, not right
. The door swung open.

“So how are the four foreskins of the apocalypse this afternoon?” Ben stood there, nunchucks in hand, smiling broadly.

Déjà vu all over again. I slid down to the floor, all feeling gone from my legs.

“Told you,” Paul said. It was probably the first time he’d ever been right about anything. “You’re late. So, Sasha was just telling us what you did to us.”

Ben glanced over at me, and I shook my head slowly.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Ben said.

“I kind of think you do,” Jed said. “And now it’s your turn to get burned.”

“Nice rhyme. You’re a poet
and
a detective,” Ben said.

Before Ben could cock his wrist, Paul had grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. The nunchucks clattered to the floor. Without Ben’s sticks, we were fucked.

His voice still as smooth as glass, Ben said, “I just saw the security guard around the corner. He’ll be coming through here any minute.”

“Go ahead, yell for help. I want to hear you scream like a little girl,” Paul said. “Right before I break your fucking arm.”

He shoved Ben to the floor. I hoped Ben knew enough to stay there.

“Help!” Ben called, but I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that there was no security guard around the corner.

Pounding their fists into their palms, Paul and company looked like the Sharks right before they started their dance rumble with the Jets in the first act of
West Side Story
. They were so busy thinking about reorganizing Ben’s facial features that they had completely forgotten about me, which didn’t matter, because I was cemented to my spot in front of the lockers. Drawing his ham-sized fist back, Paul punched Ben square in the nose. Blood sprayed everywhere. Until that moment, I didn’t think anything bad could ever happen to Ben. He was always ten minutes ahead of everyone else, but now he was curled up on the floor, blood streaming from his nose.

I had to do something, or at least try. Whether or not he loved me, whether or not he ever came back to me, I would do anything for him. Already on the floor, I extended my left foot, hooking the nunchuck chain with the toe of my shoe. Slowly, trying not to attract attention, I pulled my leg back in. Hoping I could actually do what needed to be done, I grasped the wooden handle the same way Ben did, jumped to my feet, and started swinging wildly. Fortunately, we were all pretty close together, so it didn’t matter that I wasn’t aiming, or that my eyes were closed. There was the unmistakable thunk of wood connecting with someone’s kneecap. I swung the nunchucks over my head and down.
Crack
. Either I’d split someone’s skull open, or I’d broken Ben’s sticks. When I opened my eyes, Paul and Jed were on the floor, one clutching his knee, the other shielding his bloody head from further attack. The other two were already halfway out the door.

I bent over Ben. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and his nose wasn’t quite in the center of his face anymore. I had fantasized endlessly about being near him again, his face inches from mine, but this particular scenario had never occurred to me. At least he was here, and even though he hadn’t been able to repeat his knight in shining armor act, he was definitely still tuned in to my brain channel.

Are you okay?
He looked anything but okay.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “And thank you.”

Sorry for what?
I cradled his head in my lap.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to save you, and you ended up saving me.”

Rescuing me from bad guys isn’t your life’s work. And even Superman needs a little help sometimes
.

Grabbing a towel from an open locker, I soaked it in warm water and started mopping the blood off Ben’s face.
Does that hurt?
I blotted gently around his nose, afraid I was making it worse.

“I’m fine,” he said, and pulled himself up to a sitting position. This guy did not like being rescued.

You don’t look too bad
. I was lying, and of course Ben knew it, but I didn’t know what else to say.
And look at them
.
They look way worse
. Paul and Jed had struggled to their feet and were limping out of the locker room without saying a word. If they had been dogs, their tails would have been between their legs.

“You’re a magnet for those jerks,” Ben said.

They were after you this time. I was just the opening act. Dumb as they are, they figured out that either one or both of us tried to neuter them
.

“I’m really sorry. If I’d known … I should have thought it through, but truthfully I thought they were too stupid to figure it out.”

Stop apologizing already. Can you stand up?

“Really, I’m fine.” He stood up and rubbed his wrist. “Not broken, just sprained.” Going over to the mirror, he inspected his no longer perfect face. “You think my mom will notice?”

Nah. You look great
. As far as I was concerned, his nose could be sticking out of his chin, and he would still be beautiful.

“You look pretty good, too.” Ben pinched the thick gray fabric of my sweats and whistled.

You’re not looking at me these days, so why should I dress up?

“You should wear whatever you feel like. But you’re irresistible, even in baggy sweats and a ponytail.”

You’re a regular comedian
.

We had bonded over a bloody nose and fighting sticks. He got beaten to a pulp while he was trying to help me, and I ended up saving the day. It was a good place to start over.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” He picked up my backpack. It almost felt like it had before he had dismissed me from his life. “I have my car today.”

Don’t you think you should go to the doctor and have someone look at your nose? I can walk home, or I can go with you
.

“Let me drive you. It’s on my way, and I don’t need a doctor. It doesn’t hurt at all.” His voice was firm—the perpetual grownup who never needed to be taken care of.

Before I could do any more protesting, my backpack was on the back seat and he was standing holding the car door open for me. Why did he have to be in charge all the time?

What happens if they come after us again? They know what we did
.

“We won’t have to worry about them too much longer.” He smiled mysteriously, and then winced in pain.

What does that mean? Don’t take this vigilante business too far. You’re too pretty for prison
,
even with your new nose
.

I reached over and stroked his curls. At least he didn’t pull away. I missed having someone I could “talk” to.

“Do you really think I’d break the law?”

I’m pretty sure putting poison chili seasoning in someone’s underwear is illegal
.

“Semantics. I’m actually talking about doing a little crime prevention this time. The four wise men are going to buy some drugs next week—pot, roofies, Ecstasy. They do a little dealing on the side for pocket money instead of a paper route.”

How do you know that?

Ignoring my stupid question, he continued. “As soon as they get the stuff, I’m going to tip off the principal, and they’ll all be arrested and expelled.”

You’re sure?

Would it be as easy as Ben claimed? The principal loved his winning varsity thugs. It was hard to imagine Mr. Carson would end up playing a key role in their downfall. It seemed more likely he would look the other way or try to pin it on somebody else, someone less vital to the Shoreland High athletic program.

“Positive. In a few weeks Jed’s going to be sitting in a jail cell, worrying about losing his own virginity to some guy named Cheech. Plucking your flower is going to be the last thing on any of their minds.”

He started the car and drove in silence, taking the long way home, occasionally looking over at me. I stared out the window, trying to push my thoughts deep down and far away, out of my conscious mind, in the vain hope that Ben couldn’t hear how much I wanted him to hold my hand, take me in his arms, carry us back to where we’d been before. His hands remained on the steering wheel, so either he was ignoring me, or I had successfully erected a mental brick wall. It was almost certainly the former.

“Here you go.”

At the top of the driveway, he reached across me and opened the door. I refused to take the hint. He sighed and turned off the engine, got out of the car, retrieved my backpack, and opened the car door from the outside. Catatonic, I sat staring at my hands folded in my lap. One, two, three …

“Sasha, get out of the car.”

I was behaving like a stubborn child, but I was prepared to do anything that would delay his leaving even for a few minutes, even if I looked like a fool doing it. Good attention is better than bad attention, but bad attention is better than none at all.

“Sasha, I can read your mind, remember? I know exactly what you’re doing.” He reached out his hand to me. “I’m flattered. Now get out of the car.”

If I get out of the car, will you stay with me for a little bit? I don’t want to be alone
. Now I was being immature and manipulative, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Ben shook his head. He was as stubborn as I was, the bastard.

“I heard that.”

I have no reason to clean up my language, since you’re not talking to me anyway. Why won’t you come inside? Pleeeese?
Definitely not too proud to beg.

“You know very well why. I’ll come in, we’ll sit on the couch, you’ll rest your head on my shoulder, and I’ll stroke your back.”

And what’s wrong with two friends consoling each other after a traumatic experience?
My heart began to pound as his fantasy played out in my mind.

“Wait, there’s more. Then I’ll smell your hair and maybe kiss the top of your head. Then you’ll look up at me, and your lips will be begging to be kissed, and I won’t be able to help myself, and then we’re right back where we started.”

He closed his eyes, as if imagining the scenario he was describing. That sounded pretty good to me.

You should write a romance novel. It would be a shame to waste language like that
.

“Don’t be a smartass—you know that’s what would happen.” He was all business again.

What if I promise not to kiss you? I can behave myself. Just friends
. I held my breath.

“You may be able to hold yourself to that, but I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.”

That’s bullshit
.

“It’s been more than a month since we were last together, and I’m not sure I can behave like a gentleman when I’m alone with you while you’re wearing those sexy sweats.”