POWER BACK

Chapter 13: Mr. Brightside

Mr. Brightside

Jack, October

I've looked everywhere for Bree with no luck. So, I'm standing outside the girls room waiting. I hear giggling, then the door opens and Cookie and Hillary walk out.

"Hey, Jack," Cookie says when she practically crashes into me. "What's up?"

"You seen my date anywhere?"

"Yeah," Hillary snaps. "She was with my date last time I saw her."

"Cash?"

She nods her head with her mouth in a grim line. "Yep. They were fighting."

"About what?"

"Who knows," she says, rolling her eyes. "They were over by the lockers when we went into the bathroom." She points to where this hallway dead-ends at the intersection of the crossing hall. It's dark, roped off so students don't wander around.

"Okay, thanks."

"If you find them, tell Cash I'm waiting to go. This dance is so lame."

"Will do."

When I get to the end of the hall, I look down the length of the crossing hall in each direction. No sign of them. I hop over the rope and jog to the cafeteria. Not there either. I see movement on the other side of the windows, so I head to the doors leading to the courtyard where Peyton always sits.

They're out there together in the shadows of the cement wall. I stand by the door, hidden in darkness, and watch them. The courtyard is half-lit by a few lampposts. He's looking at the ground, shaking his head while Bree vapes. She's saying something to him, but he just turns away. She pushes him hard in his shoulder, the one with the sling still on it.

"Fuck!" He yells, spinning around on one foot and lunging at her.

That's my cue. I wrench the door open, and I'm on him so fast he doesn't see me coming. My hand wraps around his neck and shoves him hard against the wall.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Her."

He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. I'm still holding him against the bricks, but there's not much he can do with a dislocated shoulder and a cast on his arm.

Then something malevolent creeps into his expression, a slow mocking smile that makes me want to put my fist through his pretty-boy face.

"Don't worry, Chap," he says in a sing-song voice. "I won't ever touch her again. She's all yours now."

I'm still holding him firmly in place when Bree gently rests her hand on my back. "Come on, Chap," she says softly. "Let's go."

I take a deep breath, reluctant to loosen my grasp.

"Chap, it's okay. Come on."

I give my head a shake and ease up on my grip. He's not even worth a punch. Not worth words. As we're walking away, he says, "Oh, and hey, Chaplin?"

I stop, but I don't turn to look at him.

He laughs, hollow and cold. "You'd better watch out for your other girlfriend too."

I look at him over my shoulder. What the hell is he talking about?

"Yeah, you know. That dyke whore you love so much. I hear she's been getting busy in the locker room after games."

Something sharp comes unhinged in my gut. I've never felt this way. No inhibition at all. I could tear his limbs off and stuff them all up his ass right now. My whole body is tense, the way it gets right before I lay into a QB when I sack him. It's a good thing Bree pulls me away, because that something inside me that snapped wants to pound him into a bloody pulp.