Micah
Practice was particularly rough today—especially because Daphne hadn’t texted me back. And the football field is not a good place to lose concentration. Twice, I’d taken a hit out of nowhere that never should have happened. The bruises are forming on my abdomen already. I can feel them without even looking.
On the way back into the locker room, I inhale deeply, rubbing my hands over my face. I wish I’d been able to tell Daph more than a half-truth. At least I’d let her know that what she’d seen between me and Alora hadn’t been real, even if I didn’t mention the part about being blackmailed.
I strip off my jersey and have just pulled off my shoulder pads when I hear voices that are guaranteed to piss me off. Carter, Shayne, and a few other guys are discussing the chicks they’d banged at the after-party Saturday night.
I wait, taking a few deep breaths while sweat trickles down my chest. Sure enough, it’s not long before they take things too far. A question out of that dickhead Carter’s mouth makes my blood straight-up boil.
“What was it like to kiss the new school slut, man?”
“The fuck did you just say?” The unmistakable sound of a body being shoved against a locker vibrates through the room.
That’s definitely Griffin’s voice, which means I know exactly who Carter is referring to. Beau’s eyes snap to mine, as do Xander’s. White-hot fury spikes through me. I stand there a second, every muscle in my body preparing to engage. Tell me he didn’t call my girl a slut. That word…
Images from the past race through my brain like an old-school movie reel, and I force them back, unable to process what I’m remembering. Could it be? Is it her? My throat goes bone-dry. I close my eyes for a split second, seeing only her green gaze staring back at me.
A terrified shriek rips through the air. My blood runs cold. What the heck was that? Passing the jungle gym structure at the park, I jog across the field a lot of the older kids use for pickup football games. I can’t tell what’s going on from this distance. Over toward the wooded path that snakes through the south side of town, three older kids in jerseys crowd together in a circle, all their focus on what’s in front of them.
The closer I get, the more worried I become. It becomes apparent that the tall guy in the center is holding something—someone—against his chest. I hear sobbing. It’s … it’s a girl.
Oh, hell no. I race across the field as fast as my legs will carry me.
“Nooo!”
I don’t realize I’ve said anything aloud until the three guys glance in my direction. When they see me coming, one of them backs up a few paces, but the biggest guy holds this poor girl’s skirt up with one hand while he peels her panties down with the other. The third guy is holding her legs, which she’s kicking, trying to dislodge them. She screams out again, but she’s crying so hard, it’s no more than a wretched, strangled sound.
The guy holding her glances up, his gaze connecting with mine as he touches her. He smirks wickedly.
My brain scrambles. This might be some sort of sick, twisted game to them but she’s just a girl. Can’t they see how scared she is? What the hell are these dickheads thinking? The guy holding her legs lets go when he realizes I’m not going to stop. I aim low and plow into the asshole, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact to his thigh.
When we collide, all three of us go down. The girl cries out, sobbing, and crawls away from me and her tormentor. The wind has been knocked out of me, but I roll, getting to my feet, and manage to suck in a breath. The asshole sits up, shaking his head as if he’d gotten his clock cleaned. Good. I hope he slammed it against the packed dirt. But I’m. Not. Done. I surge forward, straddling him, and punch him in the face several times.
Breathing hard, I look up at the other two guys and unleash on them, using words that have never passed my lips before. “You motherfuckers had better leave her alone.” These assholes are older siblings of boys I know from school. The girl is curled up on the ground, her legs tucked up to her chest.
“Fuck, man. Middle school cunt is not worth this.” Timmy Baker’s brother raises his hands, backing away.
Finally, I stand, kick the asshole writhing on the ground in the ribs, and watch for a few moments as he struggles to his feet. The other two guys are already long gone, running across the field.
Blinking rapidly, I pivot toward the sounds of distress coming from the girl a few feet away from me. Slowly, I close the distance between us, dropping to my knees. I cautiously peer into her frightened eyes. Tear tracks are smudged on her cheeks from where she’d tried to wipe them away. I swallow and put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.
I’m just a kid. I don’t know what to do, so I do what feels right. “I’m sorry.”
She looks up at me with the saddest green eyes. “H-he said they w-were going to m-make me their little s-slut.”
My mind blurs past and present into one as I stalk toward that end of the locker room with Xander and Beau at my back. A small huddle has already formed around the main players in the argument. Shayne’s voice oozes contempt as he glares at Griffin. “Oh, come on. What’s your problem? Like he said, she’s a total slut. She was all over you at the dance. And she’s already screwed Micah. If you don’t want a crack at her, stand the fuck aside. I’ll let her ride all nine inches.” I get close enough to see him as he grabs his dick and laughs.
I see red. I push my way through, clap a hand over Shayne’s shoulder and spin him around. Grabbing the front of his jersey, I pound my fist into his face three times in rapid succession. Blood drips from my already raw knuckles. The rage flows through my body, and I don’t feel a thing. Not a fucking thing.
My breath heaving, I fix my stare on him for the briefest second, right before I turn and plow my shoulder in Carter’s chest, sending him flying backward into the lockers. I whale on him. That’s the only word for it.
Chaos ensues. The locker room becomes a madhouse of punches, shoves, and kicks as the entire team joins the fray. Guys who have no skin in the game are throwing down with those of us who actually have something to be fighting for. There’s something about athletes and a good brawl, I guess. Everyone wants a piece of it.
And through it all, Beau and Xander are right at my side. My brothers. I’ve caught an elbow to my cheekbone courtesy of Shayne, and have just plowed my fist into his mouth when the locker room door slams open into the wall.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” Coach Roland’s furious voice booms from the entrance. The hulk of a man is a former football player and has no problem plucking one player after another out of his way until he gets to the epicenter of the action—me, Carter, Shayne, and Griff.
Griff backs up quickly, hands on his hips, staring daggers at Carter and Shayne. It takes both Beau and Xander grabbing me by the shoulders to pull me back. Rage still races through my veins as I wait for Coach to say something. I can see Xander watching me in my peripheral vision as he touches his fingers to his rapidly swelling split lip.