Kaleb continues, either not hearing or ignoring Donovan, and lifts Marks’ arm higher up his back causing him to cry out. “I don’t care what you thought. You don’t say disgusting things like that about anyone, period. Now get the hell out of my face.” Kaleb shoves him one more time before releasing him.
Marks cuts Kaleb a cautious look, like he’s never seen him before, and rubs at his shoulder. However, before he can get too far, Donovan blocks his path and gives him a hard punch to the gut, dropping the guy like a stone. I flinch at the sound of the meaty thump.
Donovan squats down as the boy tries to crawl up on all fours and gasps for air. “And while you’re being a good boy,” he growls, the gravel in his voice making his tone all the more menacing, “you make sure to spread around that anyone that fucks with Callie, fucks with us, and it won’t be as pleasant a conversation as this one.” He grabs Marks by the hair, tugging hard until their eyes meet. “And if one word of Kaleb’s involvement here today makes it to the wrong ears, you’ll be kissing more than a football season goodbye.”
Kaleb looks around, only now seeming to realize his friends are here with him. He meets my gaze, and a look of surprise and deep sadness takes over his face. With a tone of defeat I don’t quite understand, he turns his head toward Marks and demands, “Apologize to Callie.”
The boy struggling on the asphalt glances up just long enough to choke out, “Sorry,” before going back to trying to breathe normally again.
This show of aggression should frighten me, but it doesn’t. Despite our brief history, I know these guys, and they’re far from inherently violent, especially Kaleb. Mostly, I feel annoyed that Gina’s stunt has hurt my friends and concern for Kaleb. It’s obvious that what he’s done bothers him greatly.
Donovan stands back up, brushing his hands together even though there’s nothing on them, and walks over to Kaleb.
Throwing an arm around his shoulders, he encourages, “Let’s get out of here. You’ve got a game to catch.” He grins and leads the way towards the boys’ cars. “Unless you want to continue this new streak of a backbone and tell the coach where he can shove his football.”
Kaleb stops and releases a weary sigh, scrubbing at his face and shrugging off Donovan’s arm.
“What I did isn’t something to be proud of,” he reasons darkly, then turns to look at me, shame weighing heavily in his normally tender brown eyes. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
My chest aches for how disappointed in himself he sounds. I reach for one of his hands, making sure not to hesitate, and hold it between mine. His skin is warm, and there are calluses lining his palm.
The boys kindly continue onward a few paces to give us a semblance of privacy.
Returning Kaleb’s gaze with one of equal measures concern and understanding, I ask softly, “Was this about the rumors?”
“Among other things,” he confesses, his thumb tracing along the backs of my fingers.
A gust of wind teases strands of my hair into my eyes. With his free hand, he carefully tucks the renegade tresses behind my ears, and my heart feels full under his gentle touch.
“I’m not suicidal,” I assure him, lightly squeezing his hand. “I appreciate you defending me, and I can’t say I wouldn’t be upset if awful rumors were spread about you guys. But they’re stupid lies thought up by a selfish, pathetic girl, and the opinion of anyone dumb enough to listen to Gina’s bullshit means less than nothing to me. As far as I’m concerned, they all can take a long walk over a short cliff.”
“Nice one,” Nolan cheers, proving just how artificial our privacy really is.
I flash Kaleb a look of shared exasperation before rolling my eyes. He chuckles, more a breathy release than any real sound, and offers me a subtle pull of his lips. It’s smile-esque, so I’ll take it.
“So, you’re captain of the football team,” I tease, tugging on his arm to encourage him to start walking again.
Now that I’m holding his hand, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Should I let go? Keep holding on?This is why I don’t initiate contact!I settle for somewhere in between, and only hold on with one hand, but I still feel awkward.
A sheepish expression steals across his features, already knowing where I’m going with this. “Yeah.”
“That’s funny, because you see,” I continue with lofty sarcasm, “I sat next to you all through Psychology and all through lunch, and I seem to have missed this bright red jersey advertising that fact--- might be because you weren’t wearing it.”
“Somebody’s in trouble,” Felix sings, and the rest of the guys laugh.
“He’s not in trouble,” I counter, but flash Kaleb a mockyou’re a little in troubleface. “I’m simply curious about why you didn’t tell me.” Then I stage whisper, “It’s because the uniforms are so ugly, isn’t it. You’re ashamed to be impersonating a giant tomato.”
“No, no,” Nolan interjects with a sly smirk, “he’s thinking of how many accidents he’ll cause when people mistake him for an enormous stop sign.”
“That’s not it,” Felix chimes in with a cheeky grin. “The jersey is redandwhite. Clearly, he’s just ashamed to be casual cosplaying Toad from Mario Brothers, football fan edition. It’s okay, Kaleb. Let your inner geek out.”
I squint in mock heavy thought. “No, Toad is more white and red, than red and white. The home game jerseys would work better for that. This jersey is more a cosplay of a power up mushroom.”
Kaleb groans and shakes his head, but any lingering shame or sadness is gone, and he’s back to his calm but slightly exasperated self.
“Anyway,” I say, bumping my shoulder into Kaleb’s arm, “you have a game tonight that apparently is a big deal, if our screaming classmates are any indication.”
He shrugs. “Westmerrow was the team we beat for the championship last year. First time they’ve lost in something like ten years.”
