Dear Ava Page 41

“Someone hit me on the back of my head—” My voice hitches as I scramble farther from him and manage to get in a sitting position, rocking back and forth as I wrap my arms around myself. Deep breaths rush out of me. I dip my head to my chest. Inhale. Exhale.

“Who was it?” he barks out. “Tell me and I’ll find him!”

“For all I know, it was you,” I whisper.

“Oh, Ava.” He bends down and sits in front of me, staying a few feet away as if he knows any little thing will set me off. A long sigh comes from him. “I was in the restroom in the main building and just came out to hit the assembly then heard you yelling.” His gaze skates over me with a frown, and he reaches out. “Come on, let me see your head.”

“No!” I hit him on the arm with my fist.

He takes the first hit without even a twitch, but he catches my fist in his palm when I go for his throat.

“Ava, come on, sweetheart, just let me help you.”

“Leave me alone,” I manage to say, but that anxiety is rushing back, and my head spins, dizziness slamming into me as I try to stand up. Black dots dance in front of my face. I sway on my feet and his arms come around me and lift me up; I wiggle to get away. Ugh! I don’t want his help.

“Look, you’re upset. I’m taking you to the nurse’s office,” he says, his face tight with suppressed emotion. “You can tell them what happened and it’ll be alright. Things will be okay, I promise, I promise, I promise. Just take one day at a damn time. That’s what I do.”

Maybe it’s the tinge of despair in his voice that makes me stop squirming, or maybe it’s the careful way he holds me; either way, I ease up. I need a minute and it’s obvious he isn’t going to cart me away to some hidden place as he makes his way to the double doors of the main building.

“Hang on a sec. I need to…” I feel him adjusting me as he pushes the handicap button to open the entrance. My head rests against his arm, and he smells like fresh pine and spice. Looking up, I stare up at him, recalling our confrontation on the third floor last week, him telling me about his mom, how broken his words were. His face is more haggard than it was several days ago, cheeks hollow, the skin under his eyes bluish. His nose is red and swollen…

“Move out of the way, peons,” he says sharply as he stalks down the hall, and I hear the rumble of the underclassmen as they go to second period.

Someone jostles into my feet, and I wince as they mumble an apology and scoot away hurriedly.

“Don’t touch her, assholes!” he yells, sending a scathing look to whoever it was.

He’s halfway to the office when I tug on his sleeve.

He looks down at me, brow wrinkling. “Better?”

No. My head throbs and my knees buzz like bee stings from the cuts. “Wipe your nose before we go in. You’ve got some, um, white powder—”

He lifts me closer to his face as he leans his head over and uses his sleeve to wipe his nose. “Caught by the charity case. Don’t tell Knox, ’kay? Our secret?” He gives me a pleading look then shuts his eyes briefly. “Ava, I’m a dick, okay, a giant fucking asshole, but you know I didn’t hit you out there. And I’m sorry I gave you grief your first day here. It wasn’t about you—it was about me.” He chews on his bottom lip hard, like Knox does, and he looks so much like his brother.

I sigh. “Just let me down, okay? I can walk.”

His arms tighten around me. “You had a panic attack then almost passed out. You tried to beat me up, pathetic attempt that it was. Plus, Knox would want me to take care of you.”

I grunt. “I used to think you two weren’t anything alike, but you’re both stubborn.”

He arches a brow. “I’m the charming one. He’s the heavy.”

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Carmichael exclaims as Dane saunters into the office with me like he does it every day. “What happened?” She leads the way to the hallway to the left that connects to the nurse’s station.

“Someone jumped her outside the gym. Hit her on the head,” Dane mutters darkly. He eases me down and she promptly makes me sit on a cot then proceeds to hammer me with questions while yelling for the nurse. I haltingly explain what happened. She frowns and dashes off, mumbling about an incident report.

A nurse comes over with a penlight and checks my eyes, tells me I don’t have a concussion, just a small lump on my head. Dane lingers, taking a seat in the corner to watch me.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Carmichael is back and hands me a folder. “Just fill these out when you can, and the headmaster will probably want to see you later.” She looks over at Dane. “You need to get back to class.”

He gives her a wide grin, eyes a little spacey. “Ah, Maxine, come on, I’m the hero here—let me make sure she’s okay.”

She puts her hands on her hips.

He grins. “Just let me hang out for five minutes, cool?”

She huffs but seems to decide to ignore him and look at me. “Dear, is there someone I can call to check you out?”

I huff out a laugh. Someone to call?

“I’m eighteen. I can check myself out.”

“Of course. Sorry. I thought you might want to go to the clinic in town,” she offers.

I don’t need those bills, and I’ve had worse. “I just need some Band-Aids for the cuts on my knees.” I flash my elbows where my shirt is torn and grimace. “These too, I guess.”

The nurse is already swabbing them with alcohol and heading to a set of white drawers to pull out bandages.

Mrs. Carmichael frowns and gives me a nod then looks at the nurse. “Fine. Just rest here until you feel like going to class.”

Eventually, the nurse leaves me and I stretch out on the cot, a long exhalation leaving my chest. My socks were torn in the fall, and I glare down at them. I really need more uniforms.

“Why are you still here?” I say to Dane as he taps on his phone. “I’m fine now. No one’s going to bother me back here.”

He glances up at me. “Do you really want me to leave?”

No.

“Suit yourself,” I mutter and flip over, yanking on the thin covers the nurse left. Facing the wall, I close my eyes and allow myself to crack, just a little, biting my lip and holding back the tears that haven’t stopped wanting to come out. Now that it’s quiet, the event replays in my head, leftover adrenaline and anger rushing through my veins at how helpless I was. Again.

Somehow I fall asleep, my body slowly relaxing to the everyday sounds of Mrs. Carmichael talking on the phone in the next room and the noise of teachers walking down the corridor to their break room. Later, I wake to voices speaking in hushed tones several feet away.

I ease over and see Dane and Knox, their heads close, and I hear my name.

“Whoever it was, they whacked her good,” Dane mutters. “She was on the fucking ground, brother. Somebody hurt her here right under our noses—”

“You’re awake,” Knox says, striding over to me. “You okay?”

I sit up, gripping the edge of the cot and wincing at the brief bite of pain from moving so fast. “Fresh as a daisy.”

“Liar,” he mutters and rubs his hand over the back of my head, barely ghosting over the lump there. I freeze, wanting to arch into him, hating that I enjoy the attention from him. “Still hurting?” He bends down to me, and it almost seems as if he might touch my face, but he doesn’t, letting his hand fall.