We Told Six Lies(13)

I’d been doing so well since she came into my life. It was all I’d been able to think about—her, and getting even bigger. Making her smile. Making her happy.

I’ve moved on to squats when I spot Nixon through the glass doors. I’m happy to see him, which shocks me because I’m happy to see no one. Because when you’re made fun of every single fucking day for not opening your damn mouth, then your I-don’t-give-a-damn armor is the only thing that stands between showing up, day after day, and having a world-class breakdown.

He opens the door and says, “Hey. Jet’s right behind me with some of the other guys, so…”

This isn’t going to end well.

When Jet walks in and sees me, he pauses in the doorway as if he’s thinking about doing an about-face and leaving. His hesitancy gives me strength. But as three of his friends file in behind him, he remembers he has a reputation to uphold and that the last time news of the two of us circulated, he came out looking like a chump.

Jet walks to the other side of the gym, and I track every step he takes. It’s not that I’m afraid he’ll say something.

I’m afraid I’ll kill him if he does.

“So, uh, how you doing, man?” Nixon asks, pulling his ankle behind himself to stretch. He’s wearing his weight-lifting jersey, and I’m kicking myself for not remembering that it’s Thursday. On Thursday mornings, the team can choose to come before school or after.

I shrug and pick up a dumbbell that’s heavier than I should be using.

“I heard the police talked to you,” he adds.

Again, I don’t respond because, quite frankly, he’s more Molly’s friend than mine. He’s got an easiness to the way he stands, talks, acts, and it’s so utterly different than the tenseness that infects every proton in my body that I can’t help but envy him. He’s cool to me, even now, even after the tidal wave of friends that followed Molly saw that she was gone and, as a collective unit, turned and walked, zombie-like, away from me.

“I think she probably just took off, man,” Nixon says nonchalantly, stretching his arm across his chest. “I mean, she seemed the type to just, ya know, decide she was tired of this place. There’s no point in looking for her, right?”

I don’t like the way he’s eyeing me. It makes me itch to get out of here. But there’s only one thing I was afraid of, and that shit done happened. So what do I have to fear now?

“Anyway,” Nixon says, fumbling for something to say to someone who isn’t participating in the conversation. “I’m sure you miss her and shit. Molly was a cool girl.”

I flinch because it’s the second time he’s done that—talked about her in the past tense—but this time, it feels like an admission.

Nixon doesn’t think she ran away.

I look at him with fresh eyes.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

Nixon releases the weight he was about to lift from the rack and says, stupidly, “What?”

“When did you last see her?”

“Oh, umm…” He glances at the ceiling. But I don’t want him looking there. He needs to look at me. “In class, I think. English?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Dude, come on.” Nixon pauses like he’s deciding whether to add something. Finally, he says, “They questioned me, too, you know. The police.”

Alarm bells go off in my head, and now I’m definitely looking at Nixon as someone other than Molly’s friend. “Why? Do you know something?”

He lowers his voice, but his words have lost their friendliness. “No. And I didn’t tell them anything about you, either. So, yeah, you’re welcome.”

What the fuck? “There’s nothing to tell.”

He eyes me again. “You sure about that?”

A riot of emotions flood my system, and I’m ten seconds away from shoving him when Jet comes over with one of his meathead friends. “Dude, what’s your deal?”

I point at him. “When’s the last time you saw Molly? Last time I remember, you were throwing shade her way, isn’t that right?”

Jet steps toward me, but his friend grabs his arm.

“Why you in here, anyway?” Jet snaps. “What? Don’t have a gym to go to now that you got fired from Steel? My cousin told me you threatened a guy there.”

Steel. The gym I’d worked at while trying to save up money for Molly and me.

I grab my bag from the bench, thinking I need to get the hell out of there. Needing to get a hold of myself. And definitely not wanting to remember what went down at the place I’d grown to love.

“You sure do lose your temper quickly,” Jet yells at my back. “Probably lost your temper with her, too, huh? Did she sleep with someone else or something?”

My blood boils. I knew it. These guys think I hurt my own girlfriend. But I would never hurt her. I would kill every last person in this weight room before I touched her with anything more than a gentle hand.

I turn and charge him.

I’ve got him on the floor and am just pulling my fist back, ready to deliver a blow that’s been coming for two years, when Coach Miller throws open the glass door and roars for me to get my ass up. To get my ass up or he’ll do it for me.

Before I can get to my feet, Coach grabs me by the shirt and hauls me backward. “The hell you think you’re doing?” he says, right in my face. “You wanna get expelled? Because that’s the opposite of what you need right now.”