After sitting in my car for more minutes than I cared to admit, I was calm enough to drive.
The entire time it took me to get home and stalk up my front porch I had several versions of internal conversations with dinah and choice monologues directed at Lauren, including all of my favorite expletives.
The more I talked to myself, the more pissed I got. Screaming, crying, stomping on some bubble wrap —they all sounded good right now.
What was she thinking? Even if Lauren had smooth-talked her, was it worth hurting her best friend over?
I now guessed what Lauren's move was. She was trying to turn my friend against me. Dinah was very aware of what Lauren had done to me, but she had gotten to her. She brought it to her attention that her boyfriend was cheating and then swooped in to pick up the pieces. How else could she be so weak-minded?
She needed to know Lauren was using her. But how the hell could I tell her that?
Keeping myself busy so I wouldn't do anything stupid, I finished my Calculus homework, completed the assigned reading for Government, and cleaned out the refrigerator and cabinets of expired food. After I'd exhausted myself with enough chores so that I'd finally stopped talking to myself, I walked upstairs to take a bath.
About an hour after I'd gotten out of the tub, the whir of Lauren's motorcycle sounded down our street. I leapt out of bed to spy through the window. Noticing that the clock read midnight, I calculated that it'd been three hours since I'd seen her with dinah
Three fucking hours! What'd they been doing?
She arrived home alone. That was good, at least.
As she pulled into her driveway, I noticed the headlights of another vehicle coming to an abrupt stop in front of her house. Lauren hopped off her bike and
removed her helmet but kept it secured in her hand. She raced to the curb to meet the car's occupants. The driver and his passenger had already vacated the car and met up with Lauren toe to toe.
What's this?
Judging by the way she got in their faces, these guys were not her friends.
I opened the double doors to get a better view. Lauren waved the helmet in the space between them, and the other guys were yelling and trying to advance in her face. I caught the words "fuck you" and "get over it." They continued to bark at each other, loudly and intrusively.
It was hard to catch my breath all of a sudden. Their argument seemed to be getting out of control. Should I call the cops?
As much as they pushed into his space, Lauren didn't retreat. The odds were against her though. Shit, Lauren. Just get out of there.
One of the men pushed her, and I flinched. Reacting, Lauren got in the guy's face and pushed into him with his body until the guy was forced to back up.
At that moment, Madoc's GTO sped down the street to a screeching halt. As soon as the strangers saw him hop out of his car and run in their direction, they started throwing punches at Lauren. She lost hold of her helmet, and it slammed to the ground.
Lauren charged one of the guys, and they dropped to ground level looking like an MMA fight. Each one rolled on the lawn, jabbing and belting.
Snatching my phone off the bed, I raced out of my room and down the stairs. Pulling open the drawer to the entryway table, I grabbed the Glock-17 my father instructed I keep there when I was home alone.
I clutched the door knob. Call the cops or go outside? This would be over before the cops got here. Screw it.
I swung open the door and stepped onto the porch. The boys were all on Lauren's front lawn, with Madoc and Lauren straddling their opponents, punching them into oblivion. My heart pounded at the display, but I couldn't look away. The sense of urgency that made me run outside lessened when I realized Lauren was winning.
Mesmerized by the fight happening in front of me, I blinked when I heard Laurens disgusted howl. Her opponent, an older, tattooed guy, had pulled out a knife and sliced her arm. I ran down the stairs, gun in hand, in time to see Lauren dive for her helmet and hit the guy over the head with it. The other guy crumpled
to the ground, moaning and blood dripping off his forehead.
The knife lay on the grass at his side. Lauren stood up, hovering over the nearly-unconscious guy.
Madoc pounded his fist one more time into his opponent's gut, and swinging him over his shoulder, he dumped him onto the ground near his Honda.
Lauren left her opponent bloody and barely moving on the ground, while she squeezed her left bicep. The arm of her black hoodie was blood-soaked and glistened where she'd been cut. My worried eyes shot to the hand on that arm. A steady red stream dripped off her fingertips. I had a brief impulse to go and help her but resisted. The kindness would only be thrown back in my face. She and Madoc would need trips to the ER, but as it was a school night, Lauren's mom should be home.
Walking over to the Honda, Lauren raised her helmet above her head and brought it down with a deafening crash on the windshield. Again, she repeated the action, smashing the windshield again and again until it was shattered beyond usefulness.
Heading back towards the house, Lauren stopped by the man on the ground. "You're not welcome at the Loop anymore." Her voice was low and strained. Her tone was eerily calm.
I could do nothing but stand there, paralyzed with shock at the scene I'd just witnessed.
As Madoc bent to pick up the second guy, his attention snapped to me. "Laur," he warned. Lauren, following his gaze, turned her eyes on me.
A little too late, I realized I was standing with a gun . . . in the open. . . .in my underwear. My Three Days Grace t-shirt and red boy shorts covered me, but they were tight. My feet were bare, and my hair hung loose down my back. The Glock secured tightly in my right hand hung at my side with the safety on. Was the safety on? Yes, the safety was on. . . .I think.
Madoc was bleeding from the nose, no doubt broken again, but he grinned at me.
Lauren looked. . . .dangerous. She studied me, her dark eyes and severe brow making me feel more exposed than I already felt. Her hands clenched into fists, while her gaze traveled warily down my body and then to the gun in my hand. I could feel the energy coming off her in heat waves.
Ugh, I'm a stupid girl! Had I really wanted to help her?
I cocked my eyebrow and pursed my lips in an effort to look annoyed. What an asshole to bring this drama to our street! Turning, I walked quickly up my porch steps and slammed the front door behind me.
Taking the gun to my bedroom that night, I wasn't sure what I was protecting myself from. A damn gun wasn't going to keep those green eyes out of my dreams.
