All the Little Lights(103)

“Not one of mine . . . for once,” Coach Peckham said. “Owen Roe.”

I covered my mouth.

Mrs. Rosalsky looked up. “I’m calling the nurse. I’m pretty sure his nose is broken.”

Mrs. Mason lowered her chin. “Dr. Augustine and Vice Principal Sharp are in an administration meeting. Elliott, follow me to Dr. Augustine’s office, please. Catherine, back to your desk.”

I nodded, catching the shame on Elliott’s face as he walked by with not a scratch on him. His left hand was swollen, and I wondered how many times those knuckles had made contact with Owen’s face before someone stopped him, how much pent-up rage was behind the same punches that put holes in doors.

I walked over to Owen, sitting next to him and helping him hold the ice pack to his left eye.

“Hey,” I said.

“Catherine?”

“It’s me,” I said, pulling my hand away when he jerked back.

“I’m just trying to help,” I said.

“Even though your boyfriend blinded me?”

“You’re not blind. The swelling will go down.” I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to know. “What happened?”

He leaned away. “Like you care.”

“I do. I do care. I know we’ve . . . I know I’ve been distant.”

“Distant? More like nonexistent. What did we do to you, Catherine?”

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything.”

He turned his chin toward me, unable to see my expression. “You don’t just leave two people in the dust—people you’ve been friends with for most of your life—for nothing.”

I sighed. “My dad died.”

“We know. We tried to be there for you.”

“That’s not what I needed.”

“Then why not tell us? Why make Minka feel like she was worthless and make me feel like I was garbage you could just throw away? I get you were hurting. So tell us you need space.”

I nodded, looking down. “You’re right. That’s what I should have done.”

“You slammed the door in our faces. More than once.”

“I was awful to you, and you were just trying to be my friend. But I wasn’t myself. I’m still not . . . the girl you knew. And things are far worse now than they were then.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. The hurt and anger in his voice melted away.

I stood. “You still need to stay away from me. It’s still not safe.”

He sat back, the sullen expression returning. “But Madison and Sam are invincible against that, I guess?”

“Maddy and Sam don’t want to come in,” I whispered.

“What do you mean? Something’s happening in your house?”

Two paramedics walked in, one short and soft around the middle, the other tall and lanky. They introduced themselves to Owen, and I stepped back.

“Catherine?” Mrs. Rosalsky said, looking toward the counselor’s open door.

I knew what she wanted, so I returned to Mrs. Mason’s office to study alone. The bell to release first hour rang, and then again to initiate second. Elliott was still in the principal’s office, and the rest of the administration were carrying on like normal.

Half an hour later, Elliott emerged from Dr. Augustine’s office. He kept his gaze locked on the floor, an apology barely audible when he passed.

“Hey,” I said, reaching out to him with a comforting smile, but he ignored me, storming out the door. Two school security guards followed him, and I turned to Mrs. Mason. “You suspended him?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, pulling me into her office and closing the door. “He sent a student to the hospital. He didn’t exactly give me a choice.”

“What happened?” I demanded.

“You know I can’t discuss it with you.”

“He’ll just tell me after school.”

Mrs. Mason fell into her chair. “Are you sure about that?” I frowned. She sighed, sitting up. “Owen said something Elliott didn’t like. Elliott punched him. A lot.”

“He wouldn’t do that unprovoked.”

“Really? Because I heard about his fight with Cruz Miller at the bonfire party.” She busied herself with organizing papers on her desk, clearly rattled.

“Do you have any idea what he’s gone through the past month? Ever since we were dragged in here and questioned about Presley, everyone thinks we did something to her.”

“Well, it wasn’t self-defense today.” Mrs. Mason stopped fussing with her papers and sighed, looking up at me with sincerity in her eyes. “When he didn’t stop, he became the aggressor. Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

“But he’s been out there.”

She mulled over my words. “You think I should have brought him in, too? Surely no one is stupid enough to bother Elliott. He’s nearly the size of an NFL player.”

“It’s a good thing he is. It’s like plowing through a football field coming down C Hall from the parking lot every morning, at lunch, and after school.”

“They’re putting hands on you?”

“Mrs. Mason . . . please. You can’t suspend him. He could lose any scholarship he’s being considered for.”