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But I couldn't shake the way Rae handled herself. The way she handled me. It was reminiscent of her putting me into that damn stairwell wall.
And for a split second, I wondered where she learned how to handle herself like that.
9
Raelynn
The second I heard Clint’s words, I saw Michael snap. I saw it in his eyes, and his fist flew like wildfire. I didn’t even know Michael knew how to throw a punch like that. But when I saw Clint wrap his hand around Michael’s wrist, I knew he was in trouble.
I shrieked. “Michael, no!”
Allison kept screaming as the fight continued. Clint’s fucking goonies closed in the fight, and I struggled to get through the crowd. I heard them tussling around, punches being landed and grunts filling the air. Someone gasped and I heard something drop to the ground. And as Roy physically shoved me back, I jammed the heel of my hand directly into his ballsack.
Marina gawked. “What the fuck?”
I shook my hand out as I stepped around Roy. He could die, as far as I was concerned. I started charging Clint, with Allison hot on my heels before the sea of people closed again. I leapt into the air, feeling them catch me and hold me back. And that was when I realized Michael was the one gasping for air.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
“I mean, really. If you’re going to be a man’s man, at least man up a little bit. You of all people should know gay dudes don’t like pussies.”
Clint’s words fired me up like nothing I’d ever experienced before. And I found a renewed sense of vigor to tear through that damn crowd. I saw Michael practically toss him over his bike and I heard Allison cheering him on from behind me. I scrapped with a few people in front of me, trying to get them out of my way. And the more people I tossed to the side, the more adrenaline I felt rushing through my system. My vision bounced between Clint and Michael and D.J. and my mother. It was hard to focus. Hard to see straight. Hard to keep things in line as faces morphed and changed right before my eyes.
Then Allison’s voice pierced my hazy thoughts.
“No! Stop it! You’re going to kill him!”
I looked up, only to see Clint hoisting Michael in the air. I gawked at the scene as kids cheered and clapped, chanting for Clint to slam him into the ground. Michael had his hands around Clint’s forearm, and fear gripped my chest. And the second Michael went plummeting to the ground, I knew I had to get to him.
Otherwise, we’d be in a hospital later.
Everything happened so quickly after that. First, Michael was in the air. Then he was punching Clint. Then Clint was somehow on top of him on the ground. I took one last charge through the crowd, physically shoving girls and guys alike to the concrete. Sirens wailed in the distance as teachers rushed over to see what was going on. The last thing Michael needed was to get caught fighting, and the last thing any of us needed was to be seen as cohorts in the matter.
“Get. The fuck. Off him!”
My hands came down on to Clint’s leather jacket and I tugged. I wrapped my hands up in the worn material and felt something akin to a god take over my body. I tugged at him once. Twice. Three times, before I felt his body move. I tightened my grip into his jacket so tightly I felt my knuckles dragging across his skin. I gnashed my teeth together as Allison rushed around us. I growled out like a wild animal as I felt his body budge. I pried him off Michael, watching as Allison helped the poor boy to his feet.
Then I tossed Clint to the side.
Like some discarded paper plate of useless food.
I rushed to Michael, who was foaming at the mouth with anger. His eyes bulged and his nose was bleeding, but overall, he looked good for going a few rounds with Clint Clarke. Which was always a bad idea, given how massive Clint was in the first place. I placed my hands against his chest while Allison tugged at his wrist, trying to pull him away from the fight as I tapped my hands against him.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. We need to get you cleaned up.”
Clint growled, “Get the hell out of my way.”
And when I whipped around, I leveled my eyes directly with his.
“Not a chance in hell, you womanizing, abusive dickwad.”
Allison grunted. “Come. On. Michael. It’s done. Enough is enough. Walk away. Just walk away from him.”
I turned around and kept pushing at his chest, trying to get him away from all this chaos. Fighting Clint Clarke was a bad fucking idea because the boy was practically made for scrapping. Built for schoolyard fights and drawing blood from his enemies. The kids around us booed as Allison and I physically dragged Michael away from that fucking fight. Clint kept yelling after us, but I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. Michael kept hollering back, too. And the only thing I did was reach up and place my hand over his mouth.
“Stop it. He’s not worth the energy, I promise you that,” I said.
Some of Clint’s friends followed us, trying to block us in again. But Allison kept stepping on their toes. She jammed her heel into their feet, causing them to buckle and cry out. I was very proud of her. It made me smile as she backed up, clearing a pathway for us to get away from the chaos. The teachers were on their way, and I had a sneaking suspicion that siren call off in the distance was for us. And if Michael got caught fighting in any way, that blemish on his record might override his good grades and keep him from getting into college.
