“Bryan, let go!” I cried.
The bright headlights of a passing car flashed on us. Bryan jumped, and his grip on my arms loosened. I jerked away from him. “Stay away from me and my friends,” I said.
Bryan stared at me for a second. Then he turned and ran up the block.
I watched him disappear into the darkness. My heart pounded against my ribs. I took a few shaky steps and turned into my driveway.
I let myself in the side door and stepped into the kitchen. The house seemed very quiet. I found a note on the kitchen table from my parents. They were at a community fund-raiser for the evening.
Perfect, I thought. I have the house to myself!
After all that had happened in the last couple of days, I needed time alone to relax. I grabbed a diet soda and strolled into the den. I stretched out on the sofa and grabbed the TV remote.
But before I turned on the set, I heard a loud knock on the front door.
I froze. Bryan again? Couldn’t he take a hint and give up?
Another knock. Louder. I stomped to the door. “What do you want?” I yelled.
“Diane, it’s me. Open up,” I heard Lenny call. I flung open the door. Lenny stared back at me. I could tell he was upset.
“I need to talk to you, Di,” he said breathlessly.
I pulled him into the house. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He glanced around. “I didn’t see your dad’s car. Are your folks home?”
“No. They’re at some dinner,” I replied. “Come sit down. You look terrible.”
He followed me silently into the den. We sat on the sofa. I touched his arm and felt him shaking. “What happened?” I asked in a low voice.
He leaned forward and rubbed his hands across his face. “Crowell called my parents and told them why I was kicked off the team.”
“Oh, Lenny! Why?”
“My dad said he did it to help me learn responsibility,” he answered. “Do you believe that?”
“Bad scene with your parents?” I asked.
“The worst,” he admitted. “I’m in major trouble. My mom kept saying I couldn’t get into college with my terrible grades.”
“They’re worried about you,” I said gently.
Lenny nodded. “I know. I’m not angry at them. I just wish Crowell had given me a chance to talk to them first. Now they won’t listen to anything I say. They didn’t even give me a chance to explain. That jerk—” Lenny picked up a pillow from the couch and pounded it with his fist. “I’m in trouble now. Big time. All because of him.”
I tried to come up with some comforting words. But I didn’t know what to say. I had seen Lenny upset before about getting into trouble with his folks. But never this bad.
Lenny sat back and studied me for a second. “I need to tell you something, Diane,” he whispered. “Something that no one else knows.”
“What?” I asked.
He stared down at the sofa pillow in his hands. He set it aside. Then he spoke quickly. “I keep having these daydreams. Horrible fantasies. I see myself beating up Mr. Crowell. On the way over here, I imagined that I ran him down with my car.”
I swallowed hard.
That didn’t sound like Lenny. Yes, he definitely had a bad temper. But would he really beat up a teacher? No way.
“Lenny, you have to try to talk to Mr. Crowell,” I told him. “Tomorrow. It will get worse if you don’t. We still have over half the school year left.”
He scowled at me and didn’t say anything.
“Maybe he’ll be reasonable,” I continued. “He’s not that bad.”
For a moment, I thought Lenny would answer me. But then the scowl returned and his gaze went blank. I knew he hadn’t heard a word I said. So I did the only thing I could think of: I kissed him.
He didn’t react at first.
Then his arms came up around my back. He pulled me close. Hugged me. Hugged me tight.
I felt him trembling. My heart ached to help him. But I couldn’t do anything—except be the one who accepted him the way he was.
Lenny kissed me again. I felt him relax a little.
Then a loud sound filled the room.
Pounding at the front door.
I jumped at the noise. Lenny drew back. “Who could that be so late?” he asked fretfully.
I shook my head and pulled away. “I’ll be right back.” I padded to the door. “Who’s there?” I called.
No reply.
Bryan, I thought.
“Who is it?” I repeated sharply.
Still no answer.
A surge of anger filled me. I was sick of being scared.