“Excuseme,” the shove-the-tray girl said. She was the leader, Owen thought. “What would you know about it? Whatisthis school, Hicks United? I’m telling my parents that I—"
The older guy stood irresolute, like he wasn’t sure what to do here. The woman had her hands on her hips. Wondering whether she should fire Dyma or ask if she was OK, maybe. There probably weren’t a lot of brawls in the dining hall here. Or anywhere, for that matter. Owen had never seen one, and he’d been a football player. InTexas.
As for him, he went over and grabbed his hat from the floor, and the bag, too. They both still looked OK. No soup, anyway.
The older guy, stocky and bald, in work clothes, stared at the hat and then at Owen’s boots, and said, “You’re not a student.”
“Nope.” Owen didn’t put his hat back on, obviously, because he was indoors, just stood there holding it in his hand and waited for what would come next.
“Wait.” The guy’s face changed, got animated in an I-can’t-believe-this way. “You’re …” He stared at Owen some more, then snapped his fingers and said, “Owen Johnson. Portland Devils. Am I right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
Owen considered denying it. On the other hand, it might help Dyma not get fired. He said, “Yep.”
“I have you on my fantasy football team.” the guy said. “That whole cowboy thing. Damn, man! I read about that. Got a ranch somewhere, right?”
“Wyoming.” Owen looked him over. “You look like you played some ball yourself.”
“Aw, you know. High school.” He stuck out a hand. “Henry Washington. Maintenance. Bouncer sometimes, too, when the kids get out of hand, but you were too quick for me. Guess that’s in the job description.” He laughed again. “Man, I can’t believe it. Owen Johnson. What the hell are you doing here? Tough loss yesterday, by the way.”
Owen said, “Yeah, thanks,” thinking,And no thanks for mentioning it. “Just came up to see my girlfriend after that road trip. Didn’t think I was going to have to rescue her, too.” Might as well drive the point home. “But I’m sure glad I was here to do it.”
22
A Little Fallout
Dyma wasin about three places at once. Owen was here, somehow, and he believed her, and that was good. That was more than good. It was making her hands shake.
Or maybe it waskeepingher hands shaking, because there was still the mess on the floor, and everybody was staring at her. The humiliation was warring with the anger, and she couldn’t have said which one was winning. She was also getting satisfaction, though, from the look on Logan’s face, because, yeah, she was checking that out. He was still sitting with his buddies, but she could tell—she couldsee—that he wanted to run out of the room and hide. She told him, because, hey, first things first, “First rule of bullying: don’t pick on somebody who can fight back. But you know what? You’d better assume thateverybodyhere can fight back. This isn’t high school, and you’re not the king of it. You’re nothing special, and nobody cares who your parents are.”She wanted to add, “And I’ll bet you have a tiny little dick,” because she knew that would be the insult that would resonate most—benefit of having lots of guy friends—but she didn’t. See? Restraint.
Owen said, like he knew exactly what she was thinking, “Stop there. You’re the victim here. Let’s keep it that way.”
She said, “Yeah, see, I hate that.”
He laughed and said, “I know,” and all she wanted was for him to hold her, to help her turn it around soshecould laugh again. Instead, she got the broom and started pushing the mess into a single pile, because he was right. Broken glass. Her job.
Right. She’d keep her job, hopefully, and her dorm room, too. Much as she hated it, it was her housing. As long as she didn’t flunk out.
Suck it up,she told herself.You know how to suck it up.
Except that she didn’t. Her mom did, but not her. She knew how to fight it out. She didn’t know how to suck it up. What did you do with therage?
Wait. Why was Pavani here? With—hermom?
Oh,shit.
She wasn’t supposed to swear anymore, but she didn’t have another word for this. Somehow, she didn’t think this was what Pavani’s parents were looking for in a National Merit finalist.
On the other hand, Pavani had attacked Cassandra. That was awesome. That wassurprising.
The thing that happened next wasn’t on her list at all. Avery and Fletcher came hurrying over, and Fletcher said, “Dyma! Are you OK? What happened?”
Oh. This had all felt like ten minutes, but it had probably been two. She said, “I’m fine.”
Fletcher reached out, grabbed her, and held her tight, and she stiffened some, pulled away, and said, “Seriously, dude, I’m fine. Also, you’ve got soup on your sleeve now.” So aware of Owen standing right behind her.
Fletcher said, “Yeah, whatever. Like I’d care about that. Do you need help?”
“Want to come up to the room?” Avery asked. “Get cleaned up?”