CODY
Skylar never came to Thanksgiving, and now my parents were sure I was spiraling downward. Maybe I was. I’d gone back to listening to music for hours. Only now, I pictured Skylar’s face in every song.
The crappy weekend and fitful sleep culminated in pure edginess when I walked into the gym on Monday morning. Matt stood ringside, talking with a man whose biceps were easily the size of my thighs. The giant glanced my way, his face as dark as midnight, and soon a white row of teeth appeared.
“You the kid who needs some street sense?”
I froze, my skin crawling with fear as his dark eyes challenged mine.
Matt let out a deep, resonating laugh. “You’re supposed to help the kid, not terrify him.” He waved me over. “Come on, Cody. This is Devon. He’s going to spar with us today.”
My feet stayed planted. Get in the ring with him? Matt must have lost his mind.
It was Devon’s turn to laugh at me. “I see whach’a mean. Kid’s ’bout to wet his pants.”
I stepped forward, a burst of adrenaline pushing away the fear. “The name is Cody.”
He took my outstretched hand and appeared to be impressed by my boldness. “You may just do okay, featherweight.” His tight grip and insulting words said otherwise.
Matt threw me my headgear. “Half those referees have never even wrestled, so Blake’s gonna push the limits every time he’s tired. You hesitated, waited for a whistle that never came and you got pinned.”
I knew he was right. Blake won the mental game, and it cost me.
Matt and Devon stepped through the ropes, and Devon pinned me with a stare. “When we’re through with you, ain’t no one gonna take you down.”
And they weren’t kidding. By the time our hour was up, sweat poured from my scalp and into my face, and my arms felt as if they were made of Laffy Taffy. But it worked. I’d gotten out of a move that would have easily disqualified Blake from a match.
“If you can handle that one,” Matt said huffing, “no way Blake’s going to take you off guard again.”
Devon left fifteen minutes ago, missing my great victory. Part of me was disappointed. The other part, relieved. That guy would make hardened criminals tremble.
I sucked down more water and continued to catch my breath. “I wish girls were as easy to learn as wrestling moves.”
Matt’s eyebrows shot up at my abrupt change in subject. “Wanna talk about it?”
I hadn’t meant to start a conversation about Skylar, but she had my head and heart in a constant spin cycle, and I was too tired to think before I spoke. “Nah.” Of course, I did, but I felt stupid.
“How’s school going?” He sat on the floor next to me.
“It’s been better.”
“Kids bothering you again?”
I’d never told Matt the details, but he knew the general facts—that I’d been bullied, that I had needed to learn to fight, and that I had been teetering on the edge of a cliff. A cliff he’d managed to pull me back from after only a few months of training.
“Not me. But there’s this girl.” I stopped, feeling as if I was betraying Lindsay in some way by talking about her. “It’s bad. And she won’t tell.”
“She have anything to do with your missing the Super 32?”
I shrugged, neither confirming nor denying his question.
“You know you can’t save her, right?”
He met my eyes, his expression as vulnerable as I’d ever seen it. There was an understanding. A kinship that had my heart pounding. “At some point, she’s going to have to fight for herself, too.”
*
Matt’s advice on Lindsay haunted me all the way to school. You can’t save her. That was exactly what I’d been trying to do. Save her because in some way it was like saving the fat kid on the locker room floor. Her helplessness had become mine all over again. But that kid fought back. Skylar and Matt were right. It was time for Lindsay to do the same.
Lindsay’s car was already in the parking lot, and I wasn’t surprised. When she did attend school, she came early and hid in the library until the last possible second. Avoiding people had become her new pastime.
I had twenty minutes before Skylar arrived and planned to get this out of the way, so I could spend the rest of the day winning back my girlfriend.
I spotted Lindsay’s pale hair the minute I pushed through the library doors. “We need to talk.”
My words startled her, and she jumped back.
“Cody, don’t sneak up on me.” She was as jumpy as a five-year-old on a sugar high. Hands shaking, she chewed on the edge of her pen. “What’s going on?”
She looked paler than usual, and dark circles marred the skin beneath her dreary eyes. “I’m sorry, Lindsay. I’m so sorry you are going through all of this. But it’s time to fight back.”
She lowered her head. “Some fights cannot be won. The dollar bill incident was weeks ago, and not one person has been punished. You need to move on with your life, and let me deal with this on my own. I can’t stand the guilt of what I’m putting you through.”
I dropped into the chair next to her and scooted it closer. “Tell your parents.”
Tears spilled over and down her cheeks. “I can’t tell,” she whispered between sobs. “If my father read some of those comments, I’d die. What if he believed what people are saying? He’d never look at me the same.”
I thought of my mom after the suspension, and her unconditional love even in the face of disappointment. I pulled Lindsay’s hands away from her face, so she could look at me. “Your parents love you. They would never want you to go through this on your own. They would support you, Lindsay. I’m sure of it.”
She wiped away her tears. “You’ve never even met my parents.”
“I don’t have to. They’re your parents. End of story.” I leaned in, took her hand in mine. “I need you to do this for me. I need you to tell your parents.”
She stared at our hands and then squeezed. “Okay. I’ll tell them. Tonight—”
A commotion in the hall stopped her midsentence, and the library became a whirlwind of whispers. Cell phones were going crazy. I reached for mine right as I heard a gasp from the girl who ran over to the window.
“Reporters are everywhere,” she said.
Then another shriek. “OMG! Skylar is Donnie’s Wyld’s daughter.”