Page 49 of Big Man on Campus

“I’m sorry, Kace. I know deep down she’s a good person—”

“It was inevitable. Never mind. You have some explaining to do. What the hell happened?” She had to be drunk to put together this charade.

“Dools and I ran into your dad and Tamara at the concession stand. I told them I was with Dools, that he was my boyfriend—”

“You what?” Were you drinking? I can’t make myself utter the words.

“I know, I know. It’s crazy, but it worked. Until it didn’t. Tamara came into the lady’s room with me and Phoebe was there and she almost ruined my charade so I had to say something, do something to get her to go along. So I introduced her to Tam as your girlfriend.”

“Why? How did you get her cooperation—no never mind. I know the reason for that.” I stop and gather myself to ask her what I really need to know. In a quiet voice, a reverent voice, I say, “But did you have to tell her about Sky?”

There’s silence on the other end and I can tell she’s struggling, hear a sob and I know she must been drinking. It amplifies her sadness, or at least weakens her ability to control it. My grip on the phone tightens as I wait, needing to hear her voice, needing some reassurance to justify my hopes and determination that we can have a future. To justify that what I told Phoebe we have was more than wishful thinking.

“I had to, Kace. Phoebe needed to know why your parents hate me. But I didn’t tell her everything. I only told her we were in a crash together and I survived. I… had to.”

I shut my eyes. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m wrong and I should have told Phoebe ages ago. What kind of relationships do I have with her and my friends where I haven’t even told them about the defining tragedy of my life?

“You’re right. We can’t keep hiding it. It’s just that…”

“I know. It’s hard to know what to say because it gets ugly. It’s not a pretty story to tell, not a simple one. I don’t tell people because I don’t want to be judged. But you know what, Kace? I’m judging myself on their behalf, assuming they’ll blame me, that they won’t understand.”

“I understand, sunshine.” She’s crying now, weeping softly as she speaks.

“I only wanted to help her, Kace. She couldn’t drive. She was so shitfaced and I … only had two beers, I swear to you.”

“Why didn’t you call me for a ride, Glory?” I rasp the words, finally brave enough to ask the question I’ve wanted to ask for three years.

She sobs in response and I wish I was there, I should be there. “I’m coming over,” I say. Fuck the drinking. It’s no wonder she drinks.

“No, Kace.” She hiccups. “I need to stop dragging you down—”

“You’re not dragging me down.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but I want it to be true, I want to be dragging her up. That’s what I need to do, what we both need.

“That night,” she says, her sobs under control now, “Sky begged me to drive her car. She didn’t want to get in trouble. If we left it at the party, your parents would have known she was drinking. I… don’t know why I let her talk me into it. I knew better. But she was my friend, my best girlfriend, and I wanted to help her.” Her voice cracks now and she snorts. “I’m so, so sorry I tried to help her by doing the wrong thing.”

Her words slam into me. Because that’s what I’ve done with her. I’m trying to help Glory by lying to the cops. Fuck me.

But it’s too late to do anything about it. I lied for her and I can’t take it back.

A well of affection for her fills me and I long to be there and touch her. And yet, I can’t make myself leave my room and go to her. I’m a fucking chickenshit. I can’t face seeing her drunk and I don’t know if she is, can’t even ask her if she is because I don’t know what to do about it.

“Don’t cry anymore, Glory. If you don’t stop right now I’m going to have to come over there and do something about it.” It’s a test because I know she doesn’t want me to see her drunk any more than I want to see it.

She laugh-sobs and says, “I’ll be asleep when you get here, lover boy.”

Chapter 13

Kace

I don’t see Glory much in the next ten days, but who’s counting. I have Dooley keeping tabs on her and he swears she’s not drinking, that she spends all her spare time babysitting, complaining that she’s boring.

It’s three games into the season, and with the unrelenting stream of social media outrage and the petition, I shouldn’t be surprised when I get called into the President of SPU’s office. Reverend Church is there with Dean Lassiter and Coach and they sit me down. The university’s attorney is there and I’m not sure what’s going on until the local police detective walks into the room. My muscles tense, but I try not to show anything. My eyes shift to Coach, but he’s the master at showing nothing.

Two blue uniformed officers follow the detective into the room to stand sentinel, a standard intimidation technique, as if I’m an ax murderer.

Church says, “Kace, the detective is here to investigate the car accident you were in outside BMOC House. He’s here as a courtesy. We agreed to cooperate.” He pauses, then adds, “First Coach has something to say.”

All eyes turn to coach, who could be made of petrified wood. It’s almost a surprise when his lips move and I steel myself for what he has to say as my heart races, thundering against my chest, preparing to be crushed by the man’s words.