“That’s okay,” River says around seven at night after an Uber drops me in front of her place.
I’m still shaken up over the incident, and interacting with the police didn’t help. I had no explanation for why I pulled out in front of the van. I hadn’t exactly been in control of my body when I accelerated. Thankfully, the other driver was okay.
“All that matters is you’re all right,” River says.
“So you’re not mad?”
“Huff, the car can be repaired, and I have insurance.”
I would never say this out loud, but I appreciate how River puts me above her prized worldly possessions. I’m not exactly used to being at the top of the totem pole. Not whining about it, but when you’ve lived in the shadows of Kyle and Joy all your life, you come to accept your place in the world, somewhere down by the bottom. In a way, it made me more humble. I don’t walk around like an entitled prince, expecting everyone to blow me. But I appreciate it when they do. Not that anyone has. It’s a metaphor.
River picks up my shopping bags, which are sitting on the curb where the driver left me. “You should’ve gone straight to your dorm—I’ll help you carry these home.”
“It’s okay. I got ’em.” I take the bags from her hands. “I just wanted to see you. Figured you’d like to strangle me in person.” I refrain from telling her she can’t actually hurt me. I’m invincible now. But I’m liking less and less the idea of sharing everything with River. Not that I don’t trust her, but I don’t want to worry her more. This whole thing is a lot to take in, even if I secretly love it.
“Normally,” she says, “strangulation is the route I’d go when someone wrecks my car, but after what happened last night, I’m grateful to be alive. A car just doesn’t feel important anymore.” I watch her expression transform from worry-lite to full-calorie worry.
Oh no. She’s about to have a meltdown. I know the look. The first time I saw it happen was in the second grade when she lost a cupcake her mom’d packed in her lunch. Plop! On the ground all covered in tanbark.
“You need a hug?” I say.
“Yeah…” She sniffles and leans into me, burying her face in my chest and wrapping her arms around my midriff.
I hold her, noticing how good she feels pushed against me. She’s woman-soft, and she smells kind of sweet, like apples and cinnamon or something. Funny, I remember River always smelling like Downy. Her mother uses a lot of fabric softener.
“Mmm… you smell good,” I say, lost in her warmth and scent.
“New perfume.” River’s hands drift down the small of my back, cupping my ass. “You feel so different,” she says. “So big.”
Wait. What are we doing? “Whoa. Hey now!” I try to pry her off, but she’s got a death grip on my ass. “River, let go of my ass.”
“Oh.” She pushes away. “I’m so sorry. I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I frown. “But, River, you don’t—you know…think of me like that, right?”
“No! Ohmygod no. I would never.” Her face turns bright red, and she stumbles through her words. “I mean, you’re Huff. My annoying best friend since the second grade.”
“Good, because I feel the same way.” Even if for one split second, she felt like something else. Something more.
“I know. I know. It’s just this thing—your change—is messing with my head.”
“It’s still me. Same old nerd. Introvert. With natural lady repellent.” But that’s not exactly true. I feel the change inside me, too. That big coating of fear that used to blanket my heart is slowly dissolving.
“You’re anything but the old you,” she argues, “which is why I agree. We need to talk to Blake after the game. We have to find out where they took us.”
“Why wait? We can head over to their house now.”
“They’re at warm-up. Some of the girls went to watch.”
“Then it’s after the game.”
River smiles. “Yes. And I give you my permission to knock some of his teeth out while you question him.”
“I love that idea.” Suddenly, that sharp shooting pain returns to my chest. It radiates through my torso into my stomach. “Ooph!” I drop my bags and double over.
“You okay?” River grabs hold of my shoulder to steady me.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I think it’s that pizza I ate.” A lie. I know my body keeps reacting to something.
The pain passes quickly, and I stand upright, noticing a pair of eyes in the window upstairs. It’s Keni.
I make a little wave, but she doesn’t wave back. Instead, she stares down with a disdain I know all too well. It’s the same way Manda used to look at me. Sheer hate. But why? Because I still want to believe my initial reaction to Keni last night meant something. She’s the only girl I’ve ever looked at and felt like maybe stalkers get a bad rap. I could enjoy following her around. But more like a puppy in love, and less like a psycho with a knife.
“I should go lie down for a few minutes,” I say, picking up my bags.
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you back?”
“No. I’m okay.” Nothing to see here. Just my new, inexplicably muscled body taking over my life.
“What about the press?” she asks. “What are you going to do if they’re still camped out looking for you?”
I doubt they’ll still be there just to get a statement from me. I mean, so what? I helped rescue a little girl who’d fallen down an old well. The cover caved in when she was playing on it. I’m incredibly happy she didn’t die, but I’m not the real hero. That label goes to the firefighters who put on harnesses and pulled her out. Me? I just apparently have dog hearing now. Hardly makes me worthy of a cape. “The press doesn’t scare me. Nothing does anymore.” I wink.
“Okay. Text if you need anything.”
“Yep.” I start walking down the sidewalk, to cut across campus.
“Hey, don’t forget to meet me outside the stadium in an hour!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I yell without turning around. Tonight, I’m getting answers. I only hope they’re answers I want to hear.
River and Bren are waiting just outside the stadium as Ronno and I approach. He was going to the game too, so why not invite him to hang with us?
I’ve decided Ronno’s like an annoying little brother with a Napoleon complex, who’s destined to have a God complex once he becomes a doctor. Aside from that, I really don’t know what to make of the guy. He knows everyone on campus, and judging by the number of texts he gets from girls, which include invites to hook up, he’s also a lady magnet. Maybe he’s really good in the sack. Who knows?
What gets me thinking, though, is how on a scale of one to ten, he’s on par with how I used to look. A two, tops. But Ronno is pure confidence. Like he knows he’s destined to be someone important in this world. Makes me wonder how different my life could’ve been if I’d had a different attitude.
Ronno and I walk up to the girls, and I make introductions. “Hey, Bren. This is my new roommate, Ronno.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” she says, giving Ronno a polite nod. She doesn’t seem to think much of him. Not yet.
“Not as nice as it is to see you,” says Ronno. “Wait, are you the Kappa Nu who won that world record in clogging last year?”
“How did you know that?” Bren glows with pride.
“Are you kidding? Most steps in thirty seconds. I saw you on YouTube! You were clog-tastic, girl. My eyes couldn’t keep up with your feet.” Ronno and Bren continue inside the stadium, talking up a storm. Apparently, Ronno’s grandmother was a record holder several decades ago. She was the one who sent him the video.
“Small world,” I say to River, who’s looking mildly constipated. Tight lips. Deep frown line between her brows. “You okay?”
“Uh-hum,” she says tightly.
“Then what’s with the lemon-wedge face?”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“You know, like you just sucked a Warhead.” I hate that candy. They’re so sour, they make your butthole pucker.
“Don’t know what you mean. Oh, look. There’s Keni.” River rushes over to Keni, who’s wearing black leggings and a Go Blue T-shirt that’s been cut in half and tied into a knot above her navel.
Wow. So hot. Looking at her feels like being harpooned by a speargun. But in a good way? There’s just something about her that sends a shock wave right through me.
I follow the two up the crowded bleachers and make a point not to look at either girl’s butt. Okay, fine. I look. River’s ass is shaped like a heart that needs caressing. Keni’s ass is like two melon halves.
I can’t believe I’m looking at River’s ass and comparing it to the girl of my dreams. Even more shocking, I like the womanly shape of River more. She’s got soft curves that give me urges.
No. Fuck no. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever think of her like that. It’s like wanting to date your bed. Sure, you might love sleeping with it, and it feels like home for your tired body at the end of a long day, but you know it won’t last forever. Eventually, the bed wears out. You have to buy another. River isn’t disposable. She’s essential.
Why the hell am I comparing her to furniture? My brain is fried.
I make it a point to sit away from River, between Keni and Bren. Not sure it’s a better option since Keni seems to hate me for no apparent reason.
I decide to pretend to be into all the activities down on the field—mostly the cheerleaders who are warming up the crowd.
Actually, now that I’m getting outside my own head for a second, this is pretty cool. There are TV cameras up on a platform by the announcer’s booth, and all the fans have little flags or those giant foam hands. It’s a packed stadium, and everyone looks like they’re having fun. I can almost feel their energy seeping into me.
Wow. I’m feeling great. Happy, giddy, full-of-energy great. Maybe I should’ve been going to games at my old college. This isn’t bad at all.
I sit back and watch the athletic girls in blue pleated skirts, waving their pompoms and moving their arms in unison. I don’t know what changes, but suddenly I’m seeing Manda’s face on the girl in the middle.
But that’s not possible. Manda went to some posh all-girls school.
I blink, and Manda’s face is gone, but instead of feeling the joyful buzz of the crowd, I’m filled with anger and hate. I want to shove those pompoms down those girls’ throats. I know it’s wrong to judge a book by its cheer moves, but I can’t help thinking of Manda and her friends on the gallows. I want to watch them hang.
“Ooph!” That stabbing pain returns to my chest, and I press my hand over my heart.
“Are you all right?” Bren asks.
“Yeah.” I wince, trying to breathe through it, but the pain isn’t going away this time. It’s getting stronger.
The home team streams out of the locker room onto the field, and everyone but me hops to their feet, going wild. “Go Blue! Go Blue!”
Then I see him. Blake.
My blood turns from a tepid ninety-seven-something degrees to a blistering red-hot hate. Not because of what he did to me, but because in my mind, I’m seeing him hurting River—him pushing her to the wall, covering her mouth. His fucking cronies slamming her into their SUV. River fighting for her life.
The pain continues in my chest, but I drink it in with my rage. Fuckers deserve to die.
With helmet in hand, Blake stops in his tracks on the field, turns, and looks straight at me. Yes, thousands of people are yelling and cheering, and he’s looking right at me. Then he turns and runs toward the center of the field. The ref gestures for Blake to get his ass back with his team, but Blake doesn’t listen.
While everyone watches with laughs and frowns, Blake starts yelling.
I wish everyone would shut up so I can hear.
The stadium goes silent.
I look around at all the serious faces. Did I do that? Or did everyone decide to listen? I’m not sure, but now I hear Blake just fine.
“I hurt that woman!” he yells. “I hurt that woman because I was jealous.” Blake points in our direction. “Then I tried to kill her and her best friend. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything bad I’ve ever done to anyone. I hope they’ll forgive me!”
Still standing with the rest of the spectators, River leans forward and looks at me with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”
I shrug. “I don’t kn—”
Blake’s knees buckle, and he flops on his back on the field, out cold.
The ref and coach, who were already walking toward Blake, get to him first. A few players run over to check Blake out. Suddenly, the medic is called, and the crowd goes crazy with gasps and worries.
Me? I can’t stop seeing last night replay in my mind. Blake hurting River. Blake grabbing her breast. Blake planning to end her life.
White-hot rage dots my vision. I stand, my fists turning to solid bricks meant for crushing skulls.
“Huff, what’s wrong?” asks Keni. She seems genuinely concerned. Strange.
I turn my head, and she’s looking up at me, her green eyes filled with an odd sort of wonder or levity.
“I’m fine.” But I’m far from fine. Something inside me is coming unhinged.
Before I speak another word, I’m down on the field next to Blake. There’s a circle of people around him, and one is giving CPR.
His eyes flutter open, and he groans in agony.
Die, you sonofabitch. Die. His eyes meet mine, and this time, I mouth the word. Die.
He does.