Page 110 of Rebel at Spruce High


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“Just let it go,” Toby tells me. “It’s done. It was an accident.”

Now he’s saying it’s an accident? “Toby, this wasn’t any damn accident and you know it. These guys—”

“Vann, please.”

My angered gaze flits between each of the jocks, from Julio’s smug face to Benji’s frozen-laugh face to Hoyt’s stoic one. After a glance at Coach Strong, who’s eyes are hardened, yet with a hint of uncertainty, likely worried about my next reaction, I suddenly realize I had it all wrong. I don’t need to prove anything to these people. I don’t need to get soft with Mrs. Strong by telling her nice things and getting her to like me. Why should I bother with any of these people if I’m just going to be the enemy in the end?

“Fine.” I step away from Hoyt, from Coach Strong, from all of them. “Let’s get out of here,” I tell Toby across the table. After he gives a moment’s consideration to everyone, he slowly follows me out of the silent, tension-filled house.

As we descend the porch and cross the gravel heading to my bike, I can’t stop fuming. “Who needs them? I sure don’t.” I scoff with frustration. “You see how they look at me? You see how even your precious Jimmy’s brother looks at me, like I’m the one who magically spilled the punch, like it’s me who’s the bad guy when I’m just standing up for my boyfriend? It’s bullshit. All of it. They all deserve each other.”

“Vann …”

“Don’t worry about it. When we’re back at my house, we are gonna wash your costume and get the punch out. Maybe we can hit up one of those other things you said is going on around town. Where’s that haunted house you mentioned earlier?”

“Vann, I’m not going.”

I stop in my tracks and turn to him. Toby’s eyes reflect the same fear they did in the house. He doesn’t seem able to look at me, staring off, rubbing his arm self-consciously.

My tone softens at once. “Toby? What’s … What’s going on …? What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I … I want to stay.” He clears his throat, kicks at something on the ground, and continues to avert his eyes. “I think it really was an accident. And—”

“Are you kidding me?” I explode. “That was not an accident. Did you see the look on his face? On Julio’s stupid face? And the way he was like, ‘Oops,’ all nonchalantly? Toby, you don’t have to be afraid to say see-ya to these idiots.”

“I’m not afraid of them.”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m afraid of you.”

His words knock all the air out of me. Every last word. Every last thought. Only a ringing silence in my ears and the look of his downcast, watery eyes are all I know.

Toby takes a breath, picks at something on his tunic, then attempts to meet my eyes with his. “I was … I was blinded the first time. By yogurt. In the lunch room. I didn’t see what happened. I just heard it. The crashing. The yelling. The fire alarm.” He drops his gaze again, this next part too difficult to say to my eyes. “But tonight, just now … I wasn’t blinded. I actually saw your rage. All of it. I saw how you could have ripped off Julio’s head if Tanner hadn’t stopped you …”

“Toby.”

“I know you were defending me. I’m not blaming you. It’s just that …” He closes his eyes. Then at once, an anger of his own takes him over. “Don’t you realize that’s my whole world in there? The Strongs. My friends from theatre. That’s my whole world. And I’m all for making changes and turning the town upside-down, but …” He frowns, his eyes wet with passion. “But not like that.”

My anger is gone. Every last drop of it. All that sits in me is a heavy, dark dread of what I’ve done. “Toby, I’m sorry.”

“I know. I just …” He sighs, then meets my eyes. “I just think I want to stay here.”

“Okay. So … what am I supposed to do?”

“You can go home if you want. Cool off. I can get a ride back into town from Kelsey, Tamika, Frankie, or … anyone, really.”

Anyone except me. My insides tremble. My body is hollow. I’ve never felt so insecure about something in my life. “Will I … Will I see you later?” I sound so pathetic, so desperate. “After the party? I can come back and get you, Toby. It’s no big deal. I’ll do it.”

“Let’s just call it a night, okay? I’ll see you at …” He shuts his eyes, appearing to fight off some emotion. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

“Toby …”

He heads back before I can say anything else, his feet softly crunching on the gravel. I watch him slip into the house with a digitalized Dracula laugh, the party having returned to normal with its music and chatter. As I stand on this gravel driveway, I can’t help but bet that every single conversation in that house is about me: the weirdo outsider, the disruptive demon, the monster, the angry city boy who has no business in their town …

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