I exhaled loudly. “Brent asked me today. He’s afraid of what would happen to him if it came out. I mean, if the administration found out. It could fuck up his future.”
“Oh, really?” I’d come to dread that tone of Quinn’s voice. “Maybe Brent should’ve thought about that when he decided to physically assault another student. Maybe Brent should’ve stopped being such an asshole years ago. And maybe Brent should own up to his actions and stop being such a coward.”
“Whoa there.” I shot her a look. “I get that Brent made a mistake, but he’s sorry and he hasn’t bothered Nate since then. I happen to know he feels bad. So should one moment of poor judgment screw up the rest of his life?”
We pulled up in front of Quinn’s house. She unlatched her safety belt and turned toward me. “Leo, the truth is, I don’t have any intention of talking about Brent and what happened. But not because of what he wants—because Nate doesn’t want me to do it. Nate’s the victim here, so he’s the one whose opinion I respect. But what really pisses me off is that you’d ask me not to do this. That you’d take Brent’s side over mine. Did you ever once think about telling Brent that your girlfriend has the right to print what she wants? Did you think about me before you promised your football buddy that you’d take care of the matter?”
“Quinn, chill. It’s not that big a deal. I told Brent I’d ask you, I did, problem solved. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”
She opened her door and climbed out of the car. “Fine. I won’t. And you can go back to Brent and tell him you protected his precious future.” She slammed the car door and dashed up the driveway, never even turning back to look at me.
I pulled away from her house, anger pulsing in my neck. But instead of going home, I took the turn that led to Matt’s house. We spent the rest of the evening with our good friend Jack, who helped us forget all our problems.
