Page 28 of Lost Boy
“Freak!” he shouts, rearing back and kicking me in the ribs.
The air is forced out of my lungs in a sharp burst, and I wrap my arms around my center. My diaphragm is frozen for a moment, the force of the blow paralyzing my breathing.
After what feels like an hour, but probably not even three minutes, I gasp for breath. My lungs greedily take heaving gulps of oxygen as Dustin laughs down at me.
Once my body is functioning properly again, I glance to the side, away from his ugly face, and see the glowing red numbers on the nightstand, alerting me that it is now twelve-sixteen in the morning.
“Happy birthday to me,” I say out loud to no one.
“You’re demented,” he sneers, but I don’t give a fuck. The numbness is taking over, leaving a void of nothingness, and I welcome the darkness when he pulls his fist back and lets loose his fury.
* * *
“You just beat up Coach Rivers’ nephew, dumbass,” a voice scolds. Cole maybe.
They must not knowwhyhe beat me up. What I walked in on.
Where’s Sofie? Is she okay?
I try to say the words aloud, but I don’t think I succeed. Everything is fuzzy. Fuzzier than normal.
“Jamie. Get the girls. Now. Jenna is passed out in the bathroom; you’ll have to carry her. They’re all hiding out there in Cole’s room.”
I can hear Ryder’s voice now, but I can’t open my eyes as I’m jostled against a hard chest. I moan, unable to stop the pained sound from escaping my lips.
“Shh. You’re okay. I got you, Blue.”
It’s useless to fight against the nickname right now, so I just whimper again and nuzzle into his warm pec, letting oblivion take me again.
The next time I wake, I’m in the back of someone’s car, and Ryder yells at them to rush to the hospital. To go faster.
Is he saying that because of me?
He can’t be saying that because of me.
Oh, God.
“Is Sofie okay?” I ask in a panic, sitting up quickly and adding a head rush to the mix.
“Whoa, whoa. Lie back down, Blue. She’s fine, thanks to you. She told us what happened, Fallon. It’s you that’s got us worried. You probably have a concussion, and you passed out. Wouldn't wake up. Scared the shit out of me.”
Ryder is in the middle seat with my head in his lap as I peer up at him. He sweeps my hair out of my eyes, running his hand lightly over my forehead, swallowing roughly.
“I passed out because I’m drunk,” I inform him.
“At the exact moment of impact when a fist struck you in the face? That seems like a really odd coincidence and completely unrelated at all,” he deadpans.
I can’t right now.
“Ryder. My head.” I rub my forehead gingerly. It hurts.
Did I get punched there too?
“Sorry, Fallon. But you need a hospital.”
“I don’t have insurance,” I mumble.
“What?” he asks, like he’s never heard of people without health insurance.
