In Riptides

27 | the night we met

N A T E

My knuckles ache. Someone, one of the teachers I think, wrapped a paper towel around my right hand, but it's already soaked through. I don't remember when I started bleeding.

I only remember the moment before when everything went red.

I keep seeing Matt's face when I close my eyes. How his mouth curled into a smirk as I walked up to him, ready to throw out a taunt. One clean hit to the jaw. After that, there was no sound, like I had been plunged underwater. I just had that feeling; the one I haven't let myself feel since San Diego. Uncontrollable recklessness.

All I wanted was to hurt him. To cause as much pain as he caused Lia. I knew it would never be enough, but right then, hurting him felt like the only reasonable thing left in the world.

I shift in the chair, wooden legs scraping against the wooden floor. Across his desk, Principal Decker sighs. I've lost count of how many times he's done that. It took him a while to go from appalled to calm, realizing that yelling wasn't going to get me to cooperate.

Neither will calmness.

"Nathan," he sighs yet again, "this is a very serious situation."

I don't answer.

"Two teachers and a campus guard had to pull you off him," he continues. "Do you understand how badly this could have ended? He's on the way to the hospital right now. You could have killed him."

I nod once, only half-hearing him. Could have killed him. Yeah. I wanted to. But would I have? No. I'm not a psycho, despite what the school thinks. Still, I couldn't stop when they told me to. I fought until they wrenched me off, and then the sound came back. Shouting, turmoil, the whole hallway pulsing in my ears.

And Matt lying there swollen and pathetic, blood running from his nose, his eyes unfocused like he didn't understand how he'd ended up on the floor.

"What provoked you?" Decker asks. "This wasn't some argument. It was a personal attack, wasn't it?"

I stare at the framed photo of the football team on the wall, the one they put in yearbooks. Matt Benson crouched on one knee, front and center with a glinting smile.

He smiled when I cracked, the glint stained by blood. It's like he got a kick out of it, knowing that me beating his face in was all I really could do. He'll still be unbeatable.

I could tell Decker. Say her name. I could say what I wanted Matt to admit, but it isn't my story, and it isn't my secret to tell. So I say nothing.

Decker leans back, frustrated. "Everyone in that hallway saw you go for him. You didn't even hesitate." He studies me, trying to decide what kind of silence this is. "You understand that by not saying anything, you're taking full responsibility for this."

"I know." My voice comes out hoarse.

Surprise flickers across his face at the sound of it—just as the door opens.

I look up to see my mom stepping inside, coat still on, hair slightly messed up from leaving work in a hurry. She looks at me first, her face tightening when she sees my knuckles.

I can't read her expression. She's tense, but not furious. And if she is, she's hiding it well.

She sits in the chair next to mine and looks at the principal. "What happened?"

"Your son attacked another student," Decker says, his eyes cutting to me. "Unprovoked, apparently."

Mom sucks in a breath. "Who was it?"