The Weight of Blood (26)

The gym spiraled into collective confusion before Maddy strutted through the double doors. An astonished audience gasped.

Except it wasn’t Maddy. Instead, Jules strutted in with Brady, his arm wrapped around her thin waist. You wouldn’t know it was Jules right away. Only because her face was covered in black paint.

Wendy spun around. “Oh my God!”

Jules wore a giant Afro wig, a yellow button-up shirt, and a pink poodle skirt. The sign hanging around her neck read, Hello, my name is Maddy. Brady wore tweed pants, a white button-up, and thick glasses with his blond hair parted to the side. They waved to the crowd, who responded with uneasy cackles and weak applause.

Kenny blinked slow as if he was seeing things, then instinctively searched for Maddy’s face. He’d never thought of her much before, but Jules had crossed such a line that anyone with half of a heart would take pity. Or so he thought until the gym began to fill with laughter. Maddy shrank with a quivering lip, fumbling with her books before tripping down the bleachers and hightailing it out of the gym. Not a single teacher followed her. Most of them were too busy staring at Jules, dumbfounded by her audacity, some even holding in a snicker. Kenny’s hands rolled into fists.

Not everyone was laughing. The Black kids scowled, their mouths in straight lines before they looked pointedly at Kenny, as if daring him to ignore what was right in front of him. Again.

Mrs. Morgan shook her head as she crossed the court to Mr. O’Donnell, spitting heated words no one could hear over the growing laughter.

As Jules and Brady strutted in their direction, Wendy released Kenny’s hand, rushing to cut her off.

“Jules,” Wendy whispered. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” She giggled, feigning innocence. “This is my costume!”

Kenny felt Wendy eyeing him, as his jaw clenched in restraint, turning from the crowd to regain his composure.

Make her leave, he thought. Please, make her leave before I have to.

“This isn’t funny,” Wendy mumbled, gripping Jules’s arm. “You need to go. Now.”

“Excuse you. I don’t have to go anywhere! This is my rally.”

Kenny had had enough. An observant Chris jumped over, trying to stop him. “Wait, hey bro, don’t!”

Heart pounding, Kenny railroaded through him, storming up to Jules. “You think this shit is cool?”

The audience’s laughter died quick.

Jules coughed out a nervous laugh, glancing at the crowd. “Dude, it’s just a joke. Lighten up.”

Smoke streamed out of Kenny’s ears. Wendy clutched his costume, trying her best to calm him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes desperate. “I had no idea. I swear.”

“Hey, man,” Brady began with a haughty smile, pushing an index finger into Kenny’s chest. “I think you need to back up. You’re getting a little close to my girl.”

Jules gave him a smug smirk, puffing her chest.

Kenny’s eyes narrowed as he leaned into Brady’s finger, ready to snap it off his weak hand.

“Or what?” Kenny said, his tone deadly.

The smile fell off Brady’s face.

“Kenny,” Wendy begged, grabbing his arm. “Please. Let’s just go.”

Then there were more hands. Half the defensive line, trying to pull him back.

“Yo, bro, cool it,” Jason mumbled in his ear.

Kenny gave him a once-over. “The fuck you just say to me?”

For a change, Jason appeared speechless. He swiveled around, confirming he still had backup. “Come on, man. It’s just Jules. You know she’s just being . . . Jules.”

Jason didn’t see anything wrong with it. None of them did.

“Hey, let’s just walk this off, man,” Chris added, always trying to be a voice of reason. But reason wasn’t going to put a leash on the rage blazing in Kenny.

The gym remained eerily quiet, watching the group like sharks in a fishbowl.

The group parted as Mr. O’Donnell made his way to the center with school security, probably to kick out Brady for trespassing.

Words strangled by fury, Kenny shoved a trembling finger in Jules’s face. “You fucked up this time.”

Jules merely rolled her eyes as Brady placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

“Miss Marshall, a word in the hallway,” Mr. O’Donnell said. “Now. You too, Mr. Scott.”

Kenny’s head snapped in his direction. “What for?”

Mr. O’Donnell swallowed, eyebrows hitting his nonexistent hairline. “Let’s just . . . take this somewhere private, son.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he barked, waving his hand at Jules. “She’s the one in fucking blackface! Why aren’t you focused on her?”

“Kenny, please,” Wendy begged. “Just do what he says.”

He gaped at her in disbelief. “Why?”

Wendy cringed, the bacon tip falling forward as her eyes welled with tears. “So you can just . . . explain.”

“Explain what? I didn’t do shit!”

“Don’t yell at her!” Kayleigh shouted, standing beside Wendy for support.

“It’s okay, son,” Mr. O’Donnell insisted. “We just want to talk. Clear the air. No harm, no foul.”