“Good,” he says, reaching out and taking my hand. His hold is firm but not painful as he drags me back toward the gym doors.
I balk, digging my heels in. “Let me go, Preston.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “Just go to your meeting. We’ll talk after.”
He leads me through the door of the gym and releases my hand. With a nod toward Coach Snow, he picks up the ball and walks slowly down the court, dribbling the ball. The noise echoes around the room, but this time, my legs are steadier as I make my way over to the office where Coach Snow sits behind a wall of glass. I glance back at Preston, wondering what his psychotic brain is cooking up for me after this. I wish he’d just gotten it over with.
“Crystal, come in,” Coach Snow says, taking off her glasses and setting them on the desk when I walk in.
I step inside and close the glass door before taking a seat. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did,” she says. “I’m afraid I have some not-so-good news.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “Arkansas’s not ready for this jelly?”
She laughs. “That’s a very good way to put it.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I knew I wouldn’t make it. That’s why I didn’t come try out. You can’t put a girl on the squad when all the other girls hate her.”
“Well,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I do,” I say. “And I think I made my point at the game. So, if that’s all…”
She nods, then sits up straight again. “Actually, before you go… Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Why?”
She glances at the basketball court where Preston is shooting a one-handed basket. “Well, I’m sure I only hear a fraction of what goes on with the students here, but I did hear some disturbing things about an incident that may have occurred after our last meeting.”
Oh my god. My face burns, and I think I’m going to die on the spot. Not only has the rumor gotten around the whole school, but even the teachers heard about the supposed gangbang in the locker room. Lovely.
“Nothing happened,” I mumble.
She sighs. “Okay. But if you need to say anything, I’m here. No judgments.”
At least it’s better than a crusty old administrator talking to me about this, but holy hell, I’m so not telling a teacher about what happened that day. Especially not when I can barely admit to myself what happened. That I’d go to those lengths, tell Devlin to fuck me like that, just to get him to fall for me. That’s the moment he told everyone I was his. That’s the moment when he was forced to admit his own feelings for me—to his cousins, to me, and maybe even to himself. So yeah, maybe I really am a whore. Not for the reason everyone thinks, but because I used my body to get what I wanted, what I needed. And it fucking worked, didn’t it?
He helped me get Royal back. That was what I was after.
“Thank you,” I say to Coach Snow. “I appreciate it. But you should know better than to believe the rumor mill around here.”
“I do,” she assures me.
“Good,” I say, standing. “Then if we’re all done here…”
I think about what my family would say if they knew I’d wasted this opportunity to ruin the Darling name. But I’m well beyond that. It strikes me that I’m now protecting Devlin. For the first time in my life, I’m lying not to protect my family, but to protect someone else from my family. I’ve protected the Dolces from scrutiny, rumors, and themselves. For the first time in my life, I have something for myself, and I won’t let my family ruin it. This lie isn’t about my family. It’s protecting something that is mine and mine alone.
I’m about to step out of the office when I pause. What if Devlin had been absent that day? What if it had been some other girl he didn’t care about? Part of me wants to turn in Preston, but I know better than to start shit with him again. Not to mention what Devlin did in the hall for me when Royal hit him. I know how much that hurt Devlin’s pride to walk away, to leave me with my brother. I know he did it for me, that he wanted to hit Royal but didn’t. If he’s willing to put aside our family feud for me, I should do the same for him. Not only that, but I don’t exactly hate Preston, though I should. Some part of me feels for him. He lost everything when he lost football.
But there is someone else who was there that day. The adult in the situation should have stopped it before it even started. That should never have fallen on Devlin’s shoulders.
I turn back. “You know, something almost happened,” I say to Coach Snow. “Devlin stopped it, but one of your football coaches walked away when he saw it going down. I asked him for help, and he turned around and left.”
Coach Snow nods slowly. “Do you remember which one?”
“I don’t know his name,” I admit. “But he’s one of the football coaches.”
Coach Snow taps on her keyboard for a few seconds, then turns the screen to me. The coaches school pictures all smile back at me. I point to the one who refused to help me that day. She thanks me, says I might have to come talk to her and the admin again, and then I’m free to go. I feel light as I step out of the office. But then I stop, my pulse quickening when I see Preston there, playing his sad solo basketball game.