Bolting from Kayla’s car, I cut through a parking lot between two of the apartment buildings. I made it to the field just in time to see a car pulling away from the road in the distance, their tires screeching. Tall lamp posts on the side of the busy street lit up the grassy area, and I could see Pierre’s shadow about a hundred yards away. He was probably disoriented, and I didn’t want him going out into traffic and getting hit.
“Pierre!” I yelled for him as I ran. “Ici!”
Recognizing my voice, his head snapped in my direction and he immediately broke out into a run.
We’d gotten about halfway to each other when he yelped and fell. He tried to get up, but collapsed again. Relentlessly, he obeyed my command even though he was hurt. As he struggled to get to me, I could tell he was limping.
“No. Couche! Reste!” Down. Stay. My feet carried me faster, fear and adrenaline masking any pain I had in my leg.
Ever the dutiful worker, Pierre listened and when I got to him, I found him lying on his side, his hair matted and damp from the soaked grass.
I also saw blood.
Whipping out my phone, I turned on the flashlight and tried to figure out where his injury was.
It didn’t take long.
There was a cut a few inches long on his right front leg, and I saw a piece of glass embedded in his paw pad. I recalled what Kayla had said about this side of the field and all the broken bottles.
My vision blurred as rage took over. I wanted revenge against Aaron and anyone else involved. Whether they knew it or not, they’d dropped Pierre into a sea of broken glass. It didn’t matter if they thought it was a harmless prank. Damage had been done.
Surprisingly, it felt good to let the anger in. To let it consume me, picturing every wrong thing that had ever been done to me.
My peers laughing at me. Name calling. Shoving me. Knocking my books out of my arms in the hallway.
Pierre’s whine brought me back from that dark place.
“Okay, buddy. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I apologized a few more times as I pulled the brown shard from his paw, because that had to hurt.
I remembered the handkerchief Kayla had given me months ago. I often carried it in my back pocket—purely for sappy, sentimental reasons—but it was going to be useful now.
I tied it around the long cut, but there wasn’t enough material to go around for his paw. Hastily tugging my soggy T-shirt off, I wrapped it tightly around his entire leg and foot.
It would have to do for now.
Scooping my arms under his middle, I grunted as I struggled to lift his 130 pounds off the ground. My knee protested, pain shooting down my calf, when suddenly the weight became lighter.
I glanced up to see Jeff grabbing Pierre’s back end.
“Thank you,” I breathed out as we lifted him together.
“Don’t thank me,” he huffed. “This is so fucked up. Your girlfriend’s right there.” He nodded his head toward Norman Street. “We just need to get him to the road.”
Kayla was standing outside her car, the back door wide open. Jeff and I shuffled in that direction, and I warned him about the glass and filled him in on the injuries I could see on Pierre.
“They didn’t get any alcohol into him,” he assured me. “So, at least there’s that.”
“Seriously, dude. Thank you. If you hadn’t been there…” I shook my head, not wanting to picture the worst-case scenario. If Jeff had left with me, who knows what would’ve happened. “They’ll probably kick you out for this.”
“Fuck them. I already quit.”
“Good.”
Kayla’s face crumbled when she saw Pierre’s leg wrapped in my shirt and the blood that was already soaking through.
“I drove around here when I saw him fall,” she said, wiping tears off her cheeks. “I called the emergency vet clinic in town, just in case. They’re expecting us.”
My eyes burned, but I was too angry to cry. I might’ve been a sensitive guy, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed a tear over some assholes. Wasn’t about to start now.
“Oh my God!” a high voice shrieked, and my head turned to see Ashlyn running across the street from the dorm. “What happened? Did he get hit by a car?
“The frat took Pierre,” Kayla choked out. “He’s hurt.”
“How can I help?”
“Can you look up directions to the Animal ER?” Kayla got into the driver’s seat, and Ashlyn ran around to the passenger side.
Jeff and I maneuvered Pierre into the back, and I scooted in with him, laying his furry head on my lap. Jeff jumped in the other side, being sure not to take up too much room.
“The ER clinic is on the other side of campus,” Ashlyn spoke up from the front, holding up the GPS on her phone. “Go straight, then take a right on Bradley.”
Kayla floored it.
“How bad is it?” she asked me, sniffling as she glanced back in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I think he’ll need stitches in a couple places. They never should’ve dumped him there.”
All three passengers had an outburst at the same time.
“They never should’ve taken him in the first place!” That was Kayla.
“Those motherfuckers!” And Jeff.
“I can’t believe I ever thought they were hot,” said Ashlyn.
I agreed with all of it, but I needed to stay calm for my friend. Gently petting his snout, I gazed down at Pierre with all the love and gratefulness I had for him. He didn’t ask for this, and he definitely didn’t deserve it. All he wanted to do was take care of me, and I’d inadvertently brought this on him.
“Ugh. What’s that awful smell?” Ashlyn sniffed the air. “Like onions and vomit.”
“You have a very keen sense of smell, sweetheart. Spot on.” Jeff extended his arm her way for an introduction. “Hi there. I’m Jeff.”
She eyed his hand like it was diseased and covered her nose. Her incredulous stare turned my way. “Is this the Jeff you were trying to set me up with?”
I gave a nod. “Jeff, this is Ashlyn, Kayla’s roommate.”
“Aw, man, you were talking about me?” He sounded flattered. When Ashlyn still wouldn’t accept his handshake, his tone turned offended. “What? I took a shower and everything. How are we supposed to double date if you won’t even touch my hand?”
Horrified, she gasped. “This is not a date.”
Their banter offered a welcomed comedic relief to the moment, but I was still focused on Pierre, stroking his head with one hand and keeping pressure on his wound with the other.
I wasn’t clear-headed enough to think of a good way to retaliate for what had been done, but I knew one thing.
There would be hell to pay.