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A frantic voice rung out, adamantly apologizing, but the words seemed distant as Carmine’s temper dangerously flared. He slammed the locker door that had struck him before pouncing, hurling a boy into another row of lockers, his clenched fist landing straight into his stomach.
Someone stepped between them, and Carmine nearly swung again until their eyes connected. Coach Woods towered over him, nostrils flaring. “Principal’s office!”
“Me? This is bullshit!”
Coach Woods glared at him. “Don’t speak that way in my locker room! I’ll bench you!”
As starting quarterback for the varsity football team, Carmine was usually afforded a bit of leniency, but he could tell from his coach’s expression that today was an exception. He grabbed a towel, holding it to his forehead to soak up the trickle of blood as he stormed out.
The secretary in the front office barely glanced at Carmine when he busted in, throwing himself down in a chair to impatiently wait. She casually radioed the principal, notifying him someone was waiting. Principal Rutledge came out, merely casting Carmine a look that told him to join him. Carmine took his usual seat in the cracked brown leather chair in the small office, still clutching the towel to his head as he sprawled his legs out in front of him.
“What happened this time?” It was a question Principal Rutledge seemed to have asked Carmine every week since his freshman year.
“Someone hit me with a locker door.”
“Intentionally?”
Carmine shrugged. “Might as well have been.”
The principal picked up his office phone, dialing a number he’d long ago memorized. Carmine glanced around the small space while he waited. He noticed a new picture frame on top of a filing cabinet with a photo of the man’s daughter, a curvy sophomore with brown hair and hazel eyes.
“Your daughter’s looking good these days.”
“Leave her alone, Carmine.”
He chuckled but didn’t have time to respond before the principal focused on the call. “Dr. DeMarco, Jack Rutledge here . . . Yes . . . I’m doing well, how about you? Yes, well, there was an incident . . . He is injured . . . No, I don’t think the other boy is . . . He’s still in my office . . . No, he hasn’t been seen by the nurse.”
Principal Rutledge looked at him. “Do you think you’ll need stitches?”
Carmine shrugged, but the man didn’t wait for him to respond. “Yes, we do have a procedure in place for injured students . . . I understand that . . . With all due respect, I don’t think it’s that serious . . . No, you’re right; I’m not a doctor.” He paused, his eyes bulging. “Yes, the school’s insured, but I don’t think this is a case of negligence.”
Carmine slowly smirked. Most people didn’t know what type of man his father truly was, but he managed to terrify the shit out of them anyway.
“I’ll send him right over.” The principal hung up, eyeing him cautiously. “You need to go to the hospital to be checked out. I should’ve sent you right away. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Carmine stood. “Yeah, I don’t know, either.”
* * *
armine turned a lot of motherfucking corners.
“Yeah, well, you should’ve saved your pennies. Your life would be easier if you would’ve let me rot.”
“I bet you truly believe that,” Vincent said, glancing at his watch. “I have to get cleaned up for work. Just remember to ask Dia—”
“I already said I heard you. How many times are you going to remind me?”
“Until I know you won’t forget.”
“Well, I won’t.”
“Good,” he said, “because if you do, we’re going to have a problem.”
* * *
Dia Harper drove an old Toyota, slate gray and missing two hubcaps. She’d bought it with money she earned freelancing, which meant she’d do nearly anything for a few bucks. Shopping, cleaning, passing messages . . . She’d even written a term paper for Carmine for fifty dollars once. A leak in the exhaust system made the car emit strong gas fumes that she tried to cover with a dozen tree-shaped air fresheners. Carmine wouldn’t be caught dead riding in it, but to Dia, the car was the Holy Grail.
She was perched on the hood of it in the parking lot that morning when Carmine arrived at school. “I still don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head as soon as he stepped out. “Explain it again.”
