and I have some stuff to work out.”
“Well, can you at least do it outside?” she asks. “Leave my poor room out of it!”
Gee, thanks for the support, Sho.
“Be out front in three minutes,” Dave tells me.
The one eye that’s not radiating in excruciating pain follows him out the door. Oh look, there’s a crowd hovering around the door and in the hallway. Fantastic.
“You don’t have to go out there, you know,” Shoshanna whispers to me once he’s gone. But the way she says it, I’m pretty sure she’s all kinds of elated that two guys are fighting over her.
What she doesn’t get is that we aren’t fighting over her. Well, maybe Dave is, but I’m not.
My face hurts like a bitch, but it’s actually kinda good.
I thought sex was what I needed—only good feelings—but it turns out pain is way better. It’s like whatever’s happening to me on the outside finally matches all the shit that’s on the inside.
Okay. New plan.
“Pull me up,” I tell Shoshanna.
She helps me to standing, and I stagger out the door, followed by the crowd of people in the hallway. Somehow I make it out to the front lawn. My eye must be swelling because I can’t see out of it too well.
It’s cold out here with no shirt. Even with a shirt, I guess. It’s almost October.
Dave’s pacing the lawn, waiting for me. “Wow, look at that,” he says. “Ryden Brooks actually keeping a freaking commitment for once.”
“Just say ‘fucking,’ Dave. Be a man.”
“Be a man? Okay, how’s this?” He punches me again.
I don’t know how the hell I manage to stay standing, but I do.
The crowd has grown, and they start chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” What a cliché. I wonder if people chant that during fight scenes in movies because that’s what people do in real life, or if people do it in real life because that’s what they’ve seen in the movies.
Anyway.
“You think you can do whatever you want,” Dave says, his voice and face—what I can see of it—wild. “You think that because you’ve had some bad luck that gives you the right to treat everyone else like crap.”
That makes me laugh. Or at least I’m laughing in my head. I’m not sure what my face is doing. Bad luck. It’s a bit more than that, buddy.
“You don’t show up to things,” he continues, “you’re late to practice, you only put in an effort during games when it’s convenient for you, you don’t call anyone anymore, and you almost have sex with my fucking girlfriend!”
“Good job,” I say, egging him on. “You said a grown-up word.” Hit me again, Dave. Do it.
“You were my best friend once, Ryden.”
“Yeah, well. Shit happens. Not like you ever called me either, you know.”
He ducks and charges at me, ramming his shoulder into my stomach, tackling me to the ground. He backs off pretty quickly when he realizes I’m not fighting back, but his last few blows are enough. I’m shattered in every possible way.
I keel over and puke into a pile of leaves. And then I just stay there, curled in the fetal position, waiting for my breath and my sanity to return. My eyes are closed—one swollen shut and the other just trying to shut out the light—but I can tell by the drifting noise that most people are filtering back into the house. Dave must be gone. Good riddance.
Someone kneels beside me. “Are you okay?” It’s Shoshanna.
“Go away,” I mumble into the grass.
After a few more seconds, I feel her leave.
Finally, I’m alone.
So, so alone.
The tears start before I know what’s happening. I don’t know if it’s because of the physical pain or because everything that’s happened today—and over the last year—is finally catching up with me, but I’m officially in breakdown mode.
I should hide or leave before I embarrass myself any more, but I’m sobbing and dry heaving and tearing up clumps of the earth with my stupid, useless drunk hands, and I need to get it out. I can’t hold on any longer.
I force air into my lungs and scream into the dirt like it’s a sponge that will soak up all my misery and carry it far, far away.
I scream until my voice is shot, and then I cry and cry and cry like I never have before. Not even when Meg died.
A few minutes or hours or seconds later, I feel the ground pulsing as someone runs toward me. Unless it’s Meg, back from the dead to