Page 48 of Saving Barrette

“Yeah, right.” And then I do something really idiotic. I send my fist through the wall outside their door and think, after the fact, what a horrible idea that was. I swing my dead eyes to the guard. “Do your fucking job!” I scream at them, basically losing my shit over the girl lying on the floor. “Go in there and make sure.”

He does and kneels down after covering the girl up with a sheet on the floor. “Ms.? Wake up.”

“She’s fine,” Roman repeats, following the officer. He reaches down and shakes her shoulder.

At first, she doesn’t move, but I can tell she’s breathing. It’s instant when it happens, and just like I can’t help the nightmares about that night, I can’t help the memories that flood through me in flashes. Barrette. Her face. The black and blue. Me carrying her from the woods. It’s all too much and I can’t take it. I shake. I scream at them to do something. I lose my shit over a girl I’ve never met before because I can’t get out of my own head long enough to know this girl, she’s not Barrette.

After five minutes, the girl wakes up, smiling. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disgusted. She sees me by the door, swaying and slurring her words as she asks, “Holy moly guacamole. Did I fuck Asa Lawson?”

Jesus Christ. Bile rises in my throat. “No,” I snap, backing away from her. Besides the sheet on her now and campus security flanking her sides, she’s still completely naked and no way I want her near me.

Roman and Codey laugh. “He wishes,” I hear Codey mumble.

I don’t even look at them, or her. Fuck this shit.

I hold my throbbing hand and walk away.

I fight the urge to return to Barrette’s dorm. I want to see her. No, I think I need to see her, and for that reason, I shut my phone off so I don’t text her. I can’t always be the one who saves her. At some point, she has to want to save herself, and I need to let her.

And she can’t give me closure like she said.

I CAN’T GIVEyou closure.

Those words stick with me. I can’t shake them just like I can’t shake the idea that for a week, I haven’t seen Barrette. I don’t have time between studying for finals, practice, game reviews, and my hand is a problem, but I text her every single day so she knows I’m thinking of her. Wednesday, Coach Benning pulls me aside in the weight room. He’s worried about my hand.

“What’d you do?”

I shrug. “It’s fine.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“I know.” I chew on my lip and contemplate a lie, but resist. “I punched a wall.”

“And our upcoming bowl game never crossed your mind in the process?”

He’s not mad, but he’s not happy with me either. Two weeks ago, I told him I wouldn’t make mistakes like this, and now here I am trying to deny it. I make eye contact and push myself away from the treadmill I had been on. I reach for my towel and scrub it over my face. He’s still waiting on an answer. “No, sir, it really didn’t at the time.”

He nods, unpleased. “I get that you boys have lives and girlfriends and all that, but the next time you get wrapped up in it, remember that you came to this school to play football and get an education. There’s plenty of time for all that other crap later.”

All that other crap? Like saving your girlfriend from going down a really dark path? He has no idea what goes on in my personal life and I get it; it’s not his job. His job is to make sure his starting quarterback doesn’t break his throwing hand a week before their biggest matchup of the year.

“I hear ya,” I say, walking past him. Usually I wouldn’t be so abrupt with him, but I’m just not in the mood.

I decide to call Barrette when I’m leaving the gym.

She answers eventually, sighing. “Hey.” I wait and try to make sense of her words, the mood she’s in. Her voice is lighter. “How was practice?”

I walk slower, my phone pressed to my ear. “Rough. I’m dragging ass this week.” A group of girls walk toward me, all of them staring at me and waiting. I smile at them, and when they try to stop me, I shrug, point to my phone and continue walking. I hate being rude, but this girl on the phone, she deserves my attention for at least a few minutes. I feel bad that I can’t spend more time with her when she’s all I think about.

Another sigh and I can hear her moving around her room. “I bet. I can barely make it to class and back without being tired.” She laughs, the sound sparking my own. “But today was okay.”

I swallow over the lump forming in my throat when I think about our last conversation. “I….” I breathe out slowly and stop walking. I look up at the sky, wishing the hazy black sky held answers. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

“Don’t be.”

“No, I should be. It was wrong of me to assume. I just don’t want you around Roman.”

“I know, and I won’t. I get why you were mad. I do. He’s not… he’s Roman, and you’re right, I shouldn’t trust him as much as I do.”

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