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Michael squeezed my shoulder. “Me, too.”
I paused. “Wait, what?”
Allison giggled. “You see a fight. You see Clint slipping back into his old ways. But if there was ever a fight to engage in, that was the one.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get it.”
Michael snickered. “Of course you don’t. He was standing up for you, Rae. That asshole had it coming. And Marina, too. I’m sure it felt good for Clint to blow off a little steam and to be the bigger person in the process.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fighting doesn’t make anyone the bigger person. It makes them a bigger target.”
Allison came into my vision. “Even when he’s standing up for his girl?”
Michael rubbed my back. “Even when he’s big enough to defend himself and not start the fight in the process?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. All I know if that if this fight leads to him getting suspended—or worse—we’re right back to where we started.”
Allison paused. “How do you figure?”
I cracked my neck. “I mean, think about it. He’ll be back home dealing with this shit by himself. Caught up in his father’s whirlwind instead of here, where he should be, trying to graduate. He can’t make a life for himself without a degree. And once we graduate, who in the world is going to help him do that? Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t see anyone else jumping up to defend him or help him. Do you?”
And when they both fell silent, I knew I had them.
“That’s why I’m scared right now, guys. Because if we graduate without Clint, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
23
Clinton
I picked at my fingers and fidgeted in the principal’s office. I kept stealing glances at Roy, who sat there with a holier-than-thou grin on his face. I still heard Marina crying outside. Like she’d somehow been wrapped up in all this. The little bitch. I wanted to stick my head out into the hallway and tell her to shut the hell up. The principal was calling all of our parents. First, Marina’s. Then Roy’s.
And when he hung up the phone, I slowly lifted my eyes.
“Please, sir. I didn’t start this fight. There’s no reason to call my father.”
Roy snickered. “You start every fight you’re in, Clarke.”
The principal held up his hand. “Who started the fight and who didn’t isn’t my concern right now. Mr. Clarke, you’re clearly not in any condition to be in school right now. By the looks of your nose and the accident we all know you’ve been in, you should be home. Resting.”
Roy rolled his eyes. “Can I go now?”
The principal glared at him. “You can sit right there until your mother gets here. I just called her. Then you can explain to her how a boy who’s just been in a life-threatening accident suddenly has a bruise on his jaw and across his face.”
He stood from his chair. “I didn’t do that to Clint’s nose! It was probably his fucking father or some—”
The principal slowly stood. “Sit down and stop that language in my office. Now.”
Roy flopped back down into the chair and I sighed. If that man called my father, he was sealing my fate. I’d never recover. I’d never recuperate. Because my father would beat me until I was dead. I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to settle my heartrate. I thought of some way to try and get myself out of this. Anything that didn’t force me to own up to what was happening in my own home.
Because if my father got arrested because of me? And he paid his way out?
He’d chase me to the ends of the earth if it meant retribution.
“Sir, please.”
The principal held up his hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Clarke. But you know the rules. No matter who throws the first punch, all parties are to be picked up so they can cool down. We can start fresh tomorrow. I’ll make sure your teachers get your homework to you somehow.”
I shook my head. “Sir, you don’t understand. If you call my father—”
