One Small Thing(38)

“You didn’t like basketball?”

“No, I did. But I didn’t love it. I mostly played because my dad used to play, and I had friends on the team. But I sure as hell didn’t want to spend my whole summer stuck inside some gym. That last summer...” He visibly swallows. “I couldn’t take it anymore. So instead of going to practice, I stole my coach’s car and went for a spin. You know the rest. The best thing to come out of it was that my dad was done with me. He washed his hands of me the day I pleaded guilty. Told me that since I was done listening to him, he was done talking. That’s the last time we spoke.”

It’s so matter-of-fact how he describes his father’s abandonment.

“Have you talked to him since?”

“Nope.” Chase shakes his head. “Like I said, it was for the best. He’s an asshole. I was ten when they got divorced, and I was honestly happy about that. He was constantly running down my mom, telling her she wasn’t pretty or smart. When she hooked the mayor, he couldn’t believe it. He told Brian—” Chase cuts himself off. “Rotten, shitty stuff. That’s what he said to Brian. So it’s better for all of us that he’s out of our lives.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “Why did you live with him, then?”

“Had no choice. He sued for full custody and won,” Chase says darkly. “He gave a whole speech about how boys need their fathers, yada yada. Mom bawled her eyes out in court, but the judge ruled in favor of Dad. So he got me during the year, and Mom got me for the summers.”

Chase’s home life before the accident sounds terrible, but prison had to be worse. I try to imagine what it was like. I put myself in my room, and instead of the open space where the door is supposed to go, there are bars. I cross my ankles and hug my knees tight to my chest. I wouldn’t be able to survive. I wonder how Chase managed.

“How did you cope in juvie?” I ask.

“By thinking about tomorrow. Each day that passed was one day closer to my release. No cage is forever, Beth. I tried to find one small thing that I could be grateful for each day, like the extra ten minutes of free time outside or a work release picking up trash or ice cream for dessert. That’s how I kept my sanity—I focused on one good thing instead of all the fucked-up stuff.”

One small thing.

Chase gets to his feet. “Lunch is almost over. We should get going.”

I stand up, too, but I’m not ready to go yet. Tentatively, I reach out and place my palm on his forearm. His breath hitches. After a long, long moment, he shifts his own hand so that his thumb is pressed against my wrist.

“Chase,” I start hoarsely.

“Is he bothering you?”

Scarlett’s high-pitched voice has me jumping in surprise. I swivel my head to find my best friend, hands on hips, at the other end of the aisle. I realize that from where she’s standing, it looks like Chase is gripping my wrist.

Apprehension darts through me. I could fess up and say I was the one who touched him. I was the one talking to him.

But the horror in Scar’s eyes triggers that shame I’ve been plagued with since the second I found out Chase was Charles Donnelly. Everybody hates him. I’m supposed to hate him. Jeff is handing out petitions. My parents are trying to get him kicked out.

The more contact he has with me, the bigger the target is on his back, which means the one small thing that gets him through this day and all the rest of the days before he graduates will be harder to find.

The best course of action I can take for both of us is to keep my distance from Chase.

His vivid blue eyes lock with mine. Clean, bright and full of permission, he gets what I’m about to do. It doesn’t make me feel better, though.

I mouth, I’m sorry.

Then I wrench my hand away. “I told you, I don’t want to talk to you,” I snap.

Scarlett rushes over and puts a protective arm around my shoulders. She glowers at Chase. She was so mad and prickly yesterday, so the solidarity she shows toward me now is touching. Like she’d actually fight him to protect me.

“Leave Beth alone,” she orders, and I’m touched again because she called me Beth. “It’s bad enough that she has to see you every day. Don’t you dare try to talk to her.”

One corner of Chase’s mouth lifts wryly.

Scarlett gasps. “Are you laughing at me? Oh my God! Leave Beth alone, you hear me?”

He lets out a breath and that almost smile fades. Then he walks away without a word.

The moment he’s gone, Scarlett frantically searches my face. “What did he want from you?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

“Are you okay?”

I am not okay. I am truly awful. Chase just made me feel so much better about everything. He comforted me. He listened to me. And I repaid him by acting like he was a leper the moment someone saw us together.

“No,” I say, and it’s not a lie.





16

Even though Chase gave me silent permission, I still feel terrible about what went down in the library. I can’t stop obsessing over it, and my guilt is made worse during Music History when Troy Kendall goes in on Chase. For the entire class, the Manson comments come hard and fast, but Chase merely keeps his head down and stoically endures.

When Ms. Dvo?ák has her back to the class, Troy turns to me. “You sign Jeff’s petition yet?”