will be everywhere in the news, and none of it's going to be right.”
Jordan straightened from her slumped position on the table. “Unless...”
“Unless what?” I demanded. If there was a way out of this, I was desperate to hear it.
Her eyes widened like I was being slow on the uptake. “Why don't you speak for him? You seem to know Ronan better than anyone else, and the media would go crazy about actually hearing from you.”
Her idea could work, and that thrilled me. The news was practically begging to speak with me about Ronan. What if I told them all the true things? All the kind things? And what if I took the spotlight from Roy Taylor? The idea of stealing his fifteen minutes of fame was a pleasant one.
I nodded, liking the idea more and more with each second that passed. “I can get a cab after school, and I should be able to make it to the stadium in time to—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jordan put her hand on my shoulder and stared at me. “When are you going to realize that we’re here for you? I am taking you to the stadium, and there is no way the girls will let us go without them.”
She was right. My friends had proven that they were here for me, and I was more than grateful. I’d happily have their support instead of facing a horde of reporters on my own. Still, it would be a lot. “Are you sure?” I asked.
Nodding enthusiastically, she got her phone and began typing out a message. “Wait until they hear about this.”
The girls were not the only ones who wanted to go. That was how Rory, Jordan, Callie, Ginger, Beckett, Kai, Carson, and Ray ended up in a stretch limo on the way to Badger Stadium.
I couldn’t believe that everyone was here with me. They all had different advice, from Ray, who told me to just give Roy Taylor the finger, to Kai, who’d had plenty of experience speaking with the press because of his game Rush+. Still, nothing could have prepared me for the horde of people outside the stadium.
Instead of setting up inside, they had a podium covered in Badger memorabilia with a massive speaker system set up outside. The crowd overflowed from the sidewalk into the blocked off street. Our driver had to park nearly half a mile away.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, taking in all the people.
Ginger squeezed my shoulder. “You can do this.” She lifted her phone. “And I’m filming so even if they don’t listen, you can get your word in.”
My rapidly beating heart settled, if only a bit. I nodded and took a deep breath. I could do this.
I had to.
The limo driver opened the door, and we stepped into the chaos. There were fences leading us to the open area in front of the stage. It was packed to the brim with at least a hundred people, and we sidled along the back with the rest of the reporters.
I lowered the hat Jordan had given me to keep my identity on the down low, but my time would come soon to speak up. To step forward.
I couldn’t help but look around for Ronan, even though I knew he wouldn't be here. Instead, my eyes landed on the sorry excuse for a human being walking onto the stage. Roy Taylor’s smug grin and crooked nose made me want to punch him square in the face.
“Is that his stepdad?” Ginger whispered next to me.
I nodded, because even though I wasn't much of a sports fan, I would recognize that worthless face anywhere. “He makes me sick,” I muttered.
“Me too, and I've never even met him,” she said.
But then I saw something I hadn't expected. A slender woman walking behind him with dark, curly hair and soulful brown eyes.
Ronan's mom.
It had to be. Was she really standing beside that man right now? How betrayed must Ronan have felt when night after night he experienced new bruises, new burns, and she’d done nothing? And now she stood by Roy still while Ronan lived in a squalid apartment with four other boys, no help from anyone? It made me hate her just as much. Maybe more.
They sat in a couple of open seats in a row of chairs behind the podium. Another man in the procession behind them went to the line of microphones and introduced the press conference, reminded everyone why they were here. The fact that