Page 46 of Drive Me Wilde

"How is your lip? It looks tender."

He laughs. "Won't be sucking on any jalapeños for a while. That was some fight. Man, that Zander—he's still king, isn't he? Comes in and boom—it's all over."

"He is something."

"That whole thing last night reminded me of that brawl at the diner. The one after the homecoming game." He reaches into the cooler, pulls out two cold sodas and hands me one.

The homecoming night fight is one I've worked hard to erase from my memory. We won the game, then all of us piled into the diner for late night waffles and a celebration, but ourarchenemies and the night's losers, the Bassett team, showed up to drown their sorrows in maple syrup.

"I try not to think about that night." The details are still foggy. It was such a frightening ordeal, my mind blocked most of it.

"I had to hurry out—you understand that, right?" Zach's words confuse me. "I couldn't lose that scholarship. I couldn't be anywhere near the action."

Small shards of the night are coming back to me, and nothing is lining up with what he's saying. "But you carried me out—just as the police arrived." And then something else clicks into place. "It wasn't you. I didn't see you at all."

Zach glances out toward the water. There's an edge of shame in his expression. "Like I said—I couldn't risk losing that scholarship." It seems he's regretting bringing it up. "I think I'll take a swim before lunch. How about you?"

"No, you go ahead. I'm enjoying the heat of the sun." I stretch out my legs to get some color on them. I rest back on my elbows. Zach yanks off his shirt. He's still got that perfect build that made all the girls crazy about him.

I watch him jog down to the water, then lift my face to sky. Homecoming night is still tiptoeing around my brain, and now I'm wondering how the hell I got out of that horrible mess. One minute I was painfully sandwiched between the diner counter and one of the Bassett linemen, a massive, creepy guy, and the next, I was outside, away from the chaos and, more importantly, far away from the lineman.

Then

Zach is shouting, and the guys are bouncing bellies. He's pumped up about the game, and since he threw the winning touchdown, he has every right to be. I tend to step back whenever the guys are in their giant testosterone bubble with their belly bouncing and back slapping. I'm exhausted from cheering for the team on a cold, wet field. Kinsley has a cough, and she decided to go home and get in bed. She looked terrible by the end of the game. I kept trying to persuade her to go home early, but she's also a trooper. She wanted to stick it out.

"I don't think I can eat a whole waffle," Susie says as we climb onto a stool at the counter. Susie is one of those endless energy people, but even she looks tired from the long night. It's a tradition to eat waffles after homecoming, so we were obliged to tag along with the team and make a waffle-eating appearance.

"I'm with you," I say. "Let's share one."

Rusty's Diner is located at the border between Rockhurst and Bassett, home of our rivals and tonight's losers. Rusty has the place decorated with chrome, red vinyl and checkered walls. The jukebox is always slamming out vintage tunes. Tonight is no different. Elvis is shaking the place up with his incredible vocals.

Susie and Hannah are talking my ear off about some new store in the mall, but I'm only paying partial attention. My mind is on getting home to bed. It's been a long day, and I realize I might be catching Kinsley's cold because my throat is scratchy, and I've got the chills. The boys are at the far end of the diner hooting and hollering and reliving all their personal glory moments from the game. There's so much noise in the place, no one notices when the Bassett team walks in until someone yells "you're not welcome here!"

The raucous singing and yelling shuts down like someone turned off a spigot. Rusty, the owner, a small older man with red hair and a limp holds up his hands. "I don't want any trouble inhere. Doug, why don't you and your team leave. This is not your victory tonight," he tells the captain of the Bassett team.

"We're just coming in to eat some waffles, Rusty," Doug says with a sly grin. The guys behind him don't seem to have waffles on their mind.

"Come back sometime when you actually win a game,losers!" Noah yells from the Rockhurst side of the room. Susie, Hannah and I are stuck in no-man's-land at the counter.

"They look pissed," Susie says unnecessarily.

Doug ignores Rusty's request and takes a step farther into the diner. "How much did your coach pay that ref to make sure the game went your way?" he asks. "Must have been a good amount."

"No ref was paid," Zach says. "We won because we're the better team. Now go lick your wounds elsewhere. As you can see, we're having a victory party."

Zach turns back to his buddies, but Doug isn't ready to leave. And then it happens—someone always has to strike the first spark. In this case, it's a half-eaten burger. It arcs through the air from the Rockhurst side and hits Doug on the shoulder. There is no need for an accelerant because the Bassett boys are already fired up. Seconds later, Susie, Hannah and I are huddled together, trying to stay away from the flying fists and the massive bodies being hurled about. At one point someone gets thrown into the jukebox and the music stops.

Susie is crying so hard, she's close to puking. I take her hand. There's no way to get to the exit. I pull her through the counter gate and she ducks down behind the counter for safety. Hannah sits frozen in fear on the stool. I race back out to grab her. A massive body comes flying across the diner and plows into me. I'm slammed to the floor, and my head bounces off of the tile. My ears are ringing, and for a second everything is blurry, but I get my bearings before another big body comes flying mydirection. I roll out of the way and grab the edge of a stool to push to my feet. Rusty looks beyond despair as he stands in the kitchen watching the whole thing through the order window. I'm sure he's called the police, but there'll be plenty of damage and broken noses before they arrive. I'm feeling unsteady on my feet. Hannah has unglued herself from the stool. She crawls up over the counter to where Susie is huddling by the coffeepots.

My head hurts from the fall. I search frantically around for Zach but don't see him anywhere. The exit is still blocked by the fistfights taking place from one end of the diner to the other. The smells of blood and rage fill the air. I decide to follow Hannah. I put my knees up on the stool and am just about to cross the counter when big hands grab me roughly. The Bassett lineman's hands are so big, they practically circle my waist. My hand shoots out, and I try frantically to grab the hand Hannah's offering me. Our fingers connect for a second, then I'm dragged roughly off the counter. My shin hits the edge hard, and I cry out in pain as I try to wriggle free of his grasp. He drops me down but holds onto me.

"Zach!" I scream.

The counter is jammed painfully into my back as the guy presses hard against me. His hand gropes under my skirt. I try to knee him, but he's too close and too damn big. I push him, but it's like trying to move a wall. The stink of sweat and bad breath circle my dizzy head as he crushes me in his arms. His big head dips toward me. His mouth is puckered for a kiss.

I turn my head. "Zach!"

I'm lightheaded from being squeezed so tightly in his arms. I close my eyes and scream at the top of my lungs. Suddenly, the big arms fall away, and I gulp some air. I grab the stool next to me to keep from falling. The lineman is on his knees, and blood pours through his hands as he holds his nose. I can breathe, but I can still feel the blood rushing from my head. I hold tightly to thestool as I feel my legs collapse. I brace for my knees to hit the tile floor, instead I land in a pair of arms. I start swinging my fists, even managing to land a few punches.

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