Sell Out (28 page)

Matt’s eyebrows shot up at my abrupt change in subject. “Wanna talk about it?”

I hadn’t meant to start a conversation about Skylar, but she had my head and heart in a constant spin cycle, and I was too tired to think before I spoke. “Nah.” Of course, I did, but I felt stupid.

“How’s school going?” He sat on the floor next to me.

“It’s been better.”

“Kids bothering you again?”

I’d never told Matt the details, but he knew the general facts—that I’d been bullied, that I had needed to learn to fight, and that I had been teetering on the edge of a cliff. A cliff he’d managed to pull me back from after only a few months of training.

“Not me. But there’s this girl.” I stopped, feeling as if I was betraying Lindsay in some way by talking about her. “It’s bad. And she won’t tell.”

“She have anything to do with your missing the Super 32?”

I shrugged, neither confirming nor denying his question.

“You know you can’t save her, right?”

He met my eyes, his expression as vulnerable as I’d ever seen it. There was an understanding. A kinship that had my heart pounding. “At some point, she’s going to have to fight for herself, too.”

*

Matt’s advice on
Lindsay haunted me all the way to school.
You can’t save her
. That was exactly what I’d been trying to do. Save her because in some way it was like saving the fat kid on the locker room floor. Her helplessness had become mine all over again. But that kid fought back. Skylar and Matt were right. It was time for Lindsay to do the same.

Lindsay’s car was already in the parking lot, and I wasn’t surprised. When she did attend school, she came early and hid in the library until the last possible second. Avoiding people had become her new pastime.

I had twenty minutes before Skylar arrived and planned to get this out of the way, so I could spend the rest of the day winning back my girlfriend.

I spotted Lindsay’s pale hair the minute I pushed through the library doors. “We need to talk.”

My words startled her, and she jumped back.

“Cody, don’t sneak up on me.” She was as jumpy as a five-year-old on a sugar high. Hands shaking, she chewed on the edge of her pen. “What’s going on?”

She looked paler than usual, and dark circles marred the skin beneath her dreary eyes. “I’m sorry, Lindsay. I’m so sorry you are going through all of this. But it’s time to fight back.”

She lowered her head. “Some fights cannot be won. The dollar bill incident was weeks ago, and not one person has been punished. You need to move on with your life, and let me deal with this on my own. I can’t stand the guilt of what I’m putting you through.”

I dropped into the chair next to her and scooted it closer. “Tell your parents.”

Tears spilled over and down her cheeks. “I can’t tell,” she whispered between sobs. “If my father read some of those comments, I’d die. What if he believed what people are saying? He’d never look at me the same.”

I thought of my mom after the suspension, and her unconditional love even in the face of disappointment. I pulled Lindsay’s hands away from her face, so she could look at me. “Your parents love you. They would never want you to go through this on your own. They would support you, Lindsay. I’m sure of it.”

She wiped away her tears. “You’ve never even met my parents.”

“I don’t have to. They’re your parents. End of story.” I leaned in, took her hand in mine. “I need you to do this for me. I need you to tell your parents.”

She stared at our hands and then squeezed. “Okay. I’ll tell them. Tonight—”

A commotion in the hall stopped her midsentence, and the library became a whirlwind of whispers. Cell phones were going crazy. I reached for mine right as I heard a gasp from the girl who ran over to the window.

“Reporters are everywhere,” she said.

Then another shriek. “OMG! Skylar is Donnie’s Wyld’s daughter.”

H
ow is it
possible that I’m late again
?

I’d even rushed this morning, wanting to get a few minutes alone with Cody. Four days with the band had filled me with optimism. They sang, worked, laughed and finished the record I thought was a lost cause only four months ago. It was my father’s best work, and I already had the sketch of my dress for next year’s Grammy awards.

The parking lot was packed, several cars even double parked like they had during Cody’s match. Had I missed an announcement? Was there some event going on at school this morning?

I shut my door, clicked the lock and only made it four steps before chaos erupted. Doors slammed, photos flashed and two girls with ’80s hair and long red fingernails shoved microphones into my face.

“Skylar, how long has your father been sick?”

“Did you know he was dying?”

“Why did he stop treatment?”

“Is he trying holistic medicines?”

“Where will he be buried?”

The words jumbled around in my head, no more coherent than the splotches of light now obscuring my vision. I tried to move, but they’d pressed up against me, body odor and perfume singeing my nose as they continued to ram me with questions I had no answers for.

I covered my face, ready to sink into the pit that suddenly formed at my feet, but two strong arms stopped my collapse. I was cocooned, pressed against a solid chest as he pushed our way through the crowd. I focused on our feet moving forward, past the sidewalk, up two steps.

“It’s okay, Skylar. I’ve got you.” He smelled like citrus and clean linens waving in the breeze.

I clutched him tighter, basking in the safety of his arms, although they held no familiarity. These weren’t the arms of the boy I’d dreamed about last night. It wasn’t his smell that pushed away the noise and stench of my life falling apart. It was Blake.

He pushed us through double doors where, thankfully, their lies and spiteful commentary didn’t follow. I was in a dream. I had to be. Reporters couldn’t be here; they couldn’t do this. There were laws.

Blake pulled me into an empty room and forced me to look at him. “Hey, you need to calm down. Breathe, okay? Like this.”

His mouth opened as he filled his lungs with air and then blew out. He did it three more times until I found myself copying the motion.

My breath returned, but their lies wouldn’t stop assaulting me.

Stop treatment, holistic medicine, buried.

“Skylar?” Blake’s voice brought me back to the present. We were in Ms. Stacey’s art class. Jars of paint were scattered on the tables and six easels stood ready by the back wall.

Two male teachers rushed past the open classroom door speaking into walkie-talkies. Moments later, threatening yells filtered through the air as they shouted at the reporters.

My eyes flashed to Blake’s. “Does everyone know?”

“Yeah. He’s trending on Twitter.”

All of the pretense, all of the extra work. All the time put into protecting our secret was for nothing. They knew. My heart caved and my feet would have followed without Blake reaching out to steady me. He cradled me in his arms again, but all I could think of was finding a way to fix this. There had to be a way.

With shaky hands I pulled out my phone, detangling myself from Blake’s hug. My dad’s manager was on speed dial, but I’d never had to call him before. He picked up in one ring.

“I’ve got a security detail coming now, kiddo,” Carl said without even a hello. “What they did was illegal, and we are absolutely pressing charges.”

“How? How did they find out?” Anger was starting to replace the shock, and I could stand straighter, my feet getting firmer under me.

“We think an aid at the hospital. We’re investigating it now.” He sounded rushed like he was running while trying to talk.

“Tell me it’s not true. Tell me he didn’t stop the treatments.”

Silence. Not the silence of a person thinking. The silence of a person not wanting to be the one to tell me the truth. My chest constricted. I reached for the wall, trying to steady myself, and felt flesh instead. I gripped Blake tightly while the searing heat of disbelief filled my lungs. “Carl…please. Tell me it’s not true.”

“The team will be there in minutes. We’ll discuss everything tonight.” His voice was soft, but nothing about it soothed me.

The world became a mass of lights and colors all blended into a blob with Blake’s face at the center. I swayed. Blinked twice.

“What do you need me to do?” Blake’s typical bravado was replaced by panic.

I dropped my phone into my purse and forced my eyes to focus. I needed to get control before the other students discovered us and recorded some video of me falling apart. I pulled calm from the depths of soul and brushed the hair out of my face.

“I’m good. Thank you. They took me off guard.”

Blake exhaled and dragged his hand through his hair. “Geez. I thought you were going to pass out.”

Outside the door, noise, bodies and chaos filled the hallway. Teachers were shouting to get to class, and I knew any minute this room would be filled with gawkers.

“Don’t worry. Ms. Stacey doesn’t have a first period. We’re fine in here.” Blake shook his head, scratched it and looked at me again. “So, you’re Donnie Wyld’s daughter. Like really his daughter?”

This was exactly why I didn’t want people to know. I was back to being this strange apparition. A celebrity, but not really. I squared my shoulders and tried to prepare myself for the change.

“Does Cody know?” he asked.

Cody. I couldn’t think of him right now. It was all too much. “Yeah. He knows.”

Over the loud speaker, Principal Rayburn called my name to the office. I stepped toward the exit, telling myself I could do it. I could walk these halls without breaking down.

Blake stopped me. “Do you want me to go with you? I can keep the vultures away.”

I nodded because I knew he could. If there was one thing Blake did well, it was control the student body.

I
’d looked for
Skylar everywhere. Her locker, the bathroom, Ms. Yarnell’s class. Now I stood hiding by the stairs near the front office waiting to see if she’d answer Principal Rayburn’s summons.

Blake rounded the corner first, his arm wrapped around Skylar’s shoulder, his face masked in an expression I’d seen too often across the wrestling mat. I pushed off the wall and stalked toward them, but kept my eyes glued to Blake’s. There was a pulsating in my blood that begged for a fight, but it dissolved the minute I focused on my girlfriend. Skylar was ghostly pale and trembling.

I pulled her to me. Relieved to finally have her in my arms. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” I slid my hand in hers and tugged, forcing another several inches between her and my enemy.

Skylar’s fingers shook against my skin. “Everyone knows.”

“I know. It’s going to be okay.”

Blake’s harrumph was followed by a snarled, “How convenient you show up, now that she’s fine.” He faced Skylar. “You deserve better than this idiot.”

“Shut up. You will not manipulate this situation,” I said through clenched teeth.

“You’re unbelievable. I pulled up not two seconds behind Skylar, watched her get mauled in the parking lot and helped her.
Your
girlfriend, in case you’ve forgotten. Not mine.” He pushed between us.

Two steps and he turned, obviously not finished with his rant. “But, then again, if she was mine, you probably would have been there.” He slammed his palm against the cinder block wall and stormed off toward the office.

Crap. He was going to tell Principal Rayburn where to find her. I pulled Skylar into the alcove by the stairs, slid my thumb against her skin and kissed her forehead.

She sagged into me. “He lied to me. He promised he wouldn’t quit.”

“I’m sure he was trying to protect you.”

Skylar flinched like I’d slapped her. “I don’t need protection. I need the truth.” She was raw, completely unguarded and way too angry. “When are you going to see that I’m not some little china doll that breaks the minute hard times hit? I’m strong. I can handle the bad stuff too.”

“Wait? When did this become about me?”

“You’re just like him. You shut me out. You let someone else help you at your darkest.”

“I shut you out? You’ve barely spoken to me in two weeks.”

“Because you hurt me!”

“How?” I hissed, and then reminded myself to rein it in. She was in shock. The news had ambushed her. Nothing she said was going to make sense.

Her voice turned icy. “Why don’t you ask
Lindsay
? She seems to be who you love to run to with all your secrets and some of mine, too.”

My girl had officially turned crazy. “I didn’t tell Lindsay anything.”

“Yet she knew about you meeting my dad. She knows something happened to you sophomore year. Something I know nothing about. Why didn’t you tell me?”

The muscles in my body jerked. Even from the grave, Fatty James wouldn’t stop tormenting me. I rubbed my hands down my face. “You can’t have it both ways, Skylar. You can’t beg me for normal and then get mad when I pretend everything is fine.”

“So, it’s my fault? I suppose it’s also my fault that my dad quit chemo. That I’m such a diva I have to be coddled every second.”