9
The school day goes by smoothly. A lot of people come up to us (mostly to the guys) to tell them how great Aiden’s party on Friday was. It’s hard to imagine that Noah threw Aiden’s birthday party just a couple of days ago, but it was, and apparently everyone had a great time.
No one mentions the fact that Ryan pulled a knife on Annalisa.
I manage to ignore Kaitlyn and friends for the day, even if we do share some classes. I especially know it takes Annalisa a lot of personal strength not to confront Kaitlyn and yank out a clump of hair. We don’t need to add more fuel to the rumor mill. We don’t need more people talking about Wacko Anna White.
After school, I run into Annalisa by the stairs.
“Hey, you ready to head out?” she asks. “I think everyone’s by Julian’s truck.”
“I’ll meet you by the cars. I’m just going to grab some stuff from my locker.”
She doesn’t object and I continue to my locker, passing Aliyah on the way, who shoots me a dirty look. I guess she’s still upset about the whole being yanked off of Chase’s lap mid-make-out session thing.
After grabbing my books, I leave through a side door since it’s closer to where Julian’s parked, and spy a red Mustang.
Something takes over my mind. My vision narrows until I see nothing but Ryan’s car. The feelings of fear and helplessness from yesterday come rushing back. The memory of my chest tightening and throat closing is so vivid it’s like it’s happening all over again. He’s the one who made me feel like that. He’s the one who goes around tormenting people for fun. He’s the one who made me think I was going to die.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m marching over to the car, determination settling over my bones, blood rushing through my veins.
The car idles as he waits for Kaitlyn to get in.
“Hey, asshole!” I yell, getting his attention.
A small part of my brain, the rational side, is telling me that I’m dumb, and remembering that this guy literally almost stabbed my friend a few days ago. But the majority, the part that loves jumping into fights, the part that hates feeling helpless and refuses to take shit from bullies, ignores it. He emerges from the car, a look of mild amusement on his face.
“Your boyfriend isn’t here,” he replies as I get closer.
“You think it’s funny to throw a brick through a window?” I stop just inches from him, my anger like electricity between us. “What if you hit one of us?”
He shrugs, only slightly interested. “A life for a life.”
My jaw drops. “Oh my God. You’re legitimately insane.”
Kaitlyn’s watching the scene with a mostly bored expression like she did at Noah’s on Friday, like she’s heard it all before. Who is she? What happened to the girl who always has something to say? “I know that you have issues, too, but why are you with this guy? I’m sure even you can see that he’s psychotic.”
“Why are you so obsessed with us?” she asks.
That really takes me by surprise. It takes me a couple of moments to get over my incredulity and find my voice.
“Me? Obsessed with you?! I’m not the one crashing your parties! I’m not the one who spends every waking moment thinking about you. I’m not the one following you around and throwing bricks through windows and trying to hit you with them!”
Kaitlyn raises an eyebrow at Ryan. “They were there when you threw that brick?”
He scoffs at her as if that was the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “Obviously. Otherwise that’s just a waste of a brick.”
I take a step back from him. I’m talking to a monster. I wonder if he’s on something?
Kaitlyn’s lips purse thoughtfully and she steps closer to him. “But what if—”
“Just get in the car,” he orders, as if over this whole conversation.
“But—”
He grabs her wrist, and it looks like a hard grip. Painful. “I said. Get in the car.”
My reaction is automatic, even if it is Kaitlyn. “Hey! Let go of her!”
“Mind your own damn business!” he spits back at me, yanking Kaitlyn toward the car.
It’s obvious. You can see it in her face that she’s in pain, and that’s not okay with me. I reach out to him. To do what? I don’t know. But before I can do anything he grabs my wrist. Now he has Kaitlyn in one hand, and me in the other. And I was right. His grip hurts. I try to push at his shoulder with my free hand, but it does nothing. His grip tightens. Panic rises in my throat.
“I told you to mind your own. Fucking. Business,” he growls at me, his dark eyes swirling with hate.
Kaitlyn’s eyes meet mine, and for a second, everything melts away. She is me and I am her, and we wear matching expressions of fear. A tremor runs through my body and my breath comes up short. I fucked up by coming out here to confront him. What did I think I would accomplish, anyway? What could I possibly have done to make a difference?