Page 1 of She's My Kind Of Rain

PROLOGUE

MAY 5, 1997

SAWYER

The best day of my seventeen-year-old life

Jimmy Goodall,ironically, doesn’t have a good fuckin’ bone in his body.

And today is no exception.

He’s been at me all day with little comments in the hall, shoving me when the teachers turn their heads, tripping me and sending my books splaying across the floor, and now talking shit the moment we both exit the building after the final bell.

“No one fuckin’ likes you, you little bitch.” The cruel words stumble out of his mouth like it’s second nature.

I ignore him. What else can I really do? He’s easily twice my size. Besides, it doesn’t matter if I say anything, it won’t stop him from being an ass to me, and it won’t change the fact that I am scrawny, like he says, or the fact that I really don’t have any friends here either. Mostly because whenever someone has tried to befriend me, his behavior flows over to them and I don’t blame them for not wanting any part in that.

“Did you fuckin’ hear me, Skimpy Sawyer?” His voice raises an octave. My silence only ever seems to upset him more. But my choices are pretty limited.

I ignore him, trying not to feed into his behavior because I know I shouldn’t let him have that. Jimmy falls silent, and for a moment, relief floods through me. Maybe for once, he’ll leave me alone. But then the sound of his heavy breathing quickens, along with his fast footsteps as we make our way out toward the school’s front gate. My sense of relief recedes, replaced with anticipation for whatever he plans to do next.

A sharp jab to my back sends me lurching forward, my feet failing me as I trip, barely catching my balance. Anger rises in me, and before I even think through the situation, I swing my body toward him with my fist in tow. I meet his gaze the moment my fist makes contact with his nose, sending a shriek permeating the air, and blood begins to pour from his nostril. Tilting his head back, he grabs at his face, screaming like I just tried to kill him.

Shock ripples through me. Never once have I hit someone, let alone hard enough to cause actual damage. Part of me feels relief, because he is too worried about his nose to worry about me, while the other part fears what he’s going to do once he regains composure. I consider running until I hear Mr. Ludley, our principal, yell our names.

Turning toward the sound of his voice, I raise both hands in surrender. I still don’t even fully understand what happened, why I snapped. It’s like my brain went numb, and my fist took over.

“Office. Now.” His voice is stern and I start walking without a single argument. “Both of you, Mr. Goodall,” he finishes, and part of me is glad I am not the only one in trouble, but also nervous because I know Jimmy will do all he can to victimize himself in this situation.

Much to my surprise, he follows without argument, which is completely unlike him. He’s the type of guy who has an excuse ready for just about anything. But, I guess it would be hard to come up with a story when he’s busy sobbing into his blood coated hands as he tries—and fails—to stop the bleeding. A small part of me takes pride that I finally managed to shut him up—if only for a moment.

Our feet clack up the concrete stairs as we approach the school entrance. Mr. Ludley grabs ahold of our elbows as he mutters about how unacceptable our behavior is, followed by the fact that it’s Friday and that he should have chosen a job that didn’t involve dealing with adolescence.

Once we reach the nurse’s office, Mr. Ludley gives her clear instructions to clean Jimmy up and then to seat him outside his office to avoid anyfunny business. He casts a harsh stare Jimmy’s way, mentioning that he already has his mom on speed dial. It takes everything in me not to laugh, but I hold it back. I don’t want Mr. Ludley to tell my parents that I treated this situation like it was a joke, and I wonder just how much trouble I’m going to be in after this. It has to be worth something that I did it in self defense, right?

Without a word from Mr. Ludley, I obediently follow him until I’m seated in his office.

He exits the room without saying a word until I hear, “Hello, Mrs. Mason, this is Mr. Ludley. I apologize for the phone call. There has been an incident involving Sawyer at school and we request your immediate presence.”

I can only imagine what my mom is thinking. She’s probably worried I’m hurt since I’ve never been in trouble before. I wonder what she and dad will think when they find out I was involved in a fight. Not only that, but I broke a kid’s nose.

Mr. Ludley then calls Jimmy’s mom, mirroring the exact conversation he just had with mine.

Sweat drips at my brow. I don’t like being in trouble. Not that I have much experience in that department. I’ve always been a rule follower, a people pleaser, and I hate getting grounded—even if it doesn’t really affect me much with my lack of friends. But the idea of disappointing Mom and Dad sends a twinge of guilt through me.

He walks back in the room. “Please remain seated here until your parents arrive. I am going to go check on Mr. Goodall.” His tone is lighter than earlier, and I hope that means if he’s picking a side, it’s going to be mine. He emits a soft huff as he reaches his door and turns back towards me. “Sawyer,” he pauses, “This isn’t like you, and I assume there is valid reasoning for whatever transpired, but given that you are not the injured one here, my hands are tied, but I’ll try to be fair in your punishment.”

Confusion consumes me. We haven’t even discussed what happened. He leans against his door frame and continues, “I’ve been in your shoes, and for what it’s worth, I am sorry for whatever he did to provoke this.” Swiveling on his heel, he makes his way out of the office before I have the chance to respond.

I sit in silence, looking around the bleak room. The walls are tan and decorated with inspirational posters about learning being awesome, and a cat hanging on to a branch for dear life that saysHang in there.

I allow myself a chuckle that surfaces at the satire of that line, wondering if the poster is meant as a reminder for Mr. Ludley, or the kids sent to his office for any number of reasons.Hanging in therenever once helped with Jimmy, which is who led me to this seat in the first place. I ponder that thought until I notice movement and turn to look back towards the front office where I see Mr. Ludley seat shithead Jimmy, a bloody cloth still held tightly to his nose. Shortly behind him is his mom, who is much more petite than her son, with what seems like a moregentle demeanor as she rushes to his side after noticing his nose. I wonder how someone who appears to be so pleasant could produce such a vile child.

My parents enter next, with worry written on their faces. My dad notices Jimmy’s wound first and turns to my mom, his eyes bugging out in shock. She softly touches his shoulder, grounding his reaction, then steps in front of him to shake Mr. Ludley’s hand before nodding to Jimmy and his mom. It’s an odd feeling to see everyone as if I am a fly on the wall, but it makes me feel better to see my parents’ composed response to the situation.

“Good afternoon, folks.” Mr. Ludley and I make eye contact. He motions for me to exit his office, and I do as I’m told. “I wish I could say we were all meeting on better terms, but as you know, the boys here—” He gestures to Jimmy and myself. “Got in a bit of a tussle just after the final bell. Jimmy’s nose is broken, but the nurse has assured me he will be fine and that it does not need any further medical attention.”

Jimmy’s mom gasps, embracing him in her arms, while both of my parents’ attention now focus on me as I reach them.

---