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To my surprise, it was Bryce who burst out, "Come on! Just…say something, Sheldon!"
"This isn't therapy with just me," I cried out. "I thought this was a group thing. Why are you so focused on me today?"
"Because you're the one who banged Steele," Bryce bit out.
Miss Connors said quietly, "Because you're hurting the worst of everyone in this room."
Shocked, I looked at her, but the words died in my throat. I shook my head.
Bryce fell back against his chair in disgust.
Cor
rigan raised a hand and said, "Can I ask a question? And I'm not doing this to distract from Sheldon, I'm really not."
"What?" Miss Connors asked.
"Why are the three of us in here? I mean—I know that we were originally in here because it was Bryce and Sheldon who found Leisha's body, but…no one else is doing 'group' therapy."
"You're in here because the three of you have formed a tight family unit," Miss Connors explained patiently. "I've heard and listened to other students. You three are so tight, that there's no room for anyone else and you bat down anyone who threatens your alliances with each other. In the therapy culture, we'd call you an enmeshed family."
"Oh."
"So…this actually leads into some homework that I have for you guys." She reached behind her and grabbed two pairs of handcuffs. "Hold out your arms."
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"Hell."
As we did, Miss Connors clamped one pair of handcuffs from my arm to Bryce's. She extended the other from Corrigan's arm to my other and leaned back in her chair.
"Now," she skimmed our faces. "This assignment has been approved by all your teachers, parents, and even the police. The three of you are going to prove to me that it's healthy for you to be as close to each other as you are. You're going to keep those handcuffs on until you've proved to me that you're healthy."
"That doesn't make any sense," Bryce remarked.
Miss Connors shrugged and offered, "It's this or you listen to stories of fish, frogs, and ponds."
"Handcuffs." Corrigan nodded.
"Good. I'll see you in two days for a check up. I want to know how it's going."
And we stood up.
Handcuffs, chains, and arms swung between each of us in our tight enmeshed triad.
Chapter 20
Life in handcuffs was not new to Corrigan and semi-new to Bryce. Surprisingly, they were alien to me in and out of the bedroom.
How to get out of handcuffs?
It was Corrigan's forte and he only needed one stop along the way.
Hoodum's.
The gang leader laughed uproariously when Corrigan called him out to our car in the parking lot. He actually stood there, laughed, and needed to pat his leg for composure.
It was maybe the first time that all three of us were quiet for our humiliation.
After we were delivered a third-sheet of public ridicule, Hoodum hunted around his warehouse and produced a key. Of course, afterwards Bryce remarked that Corrigan should've just 'picked' the lock. After getting arrested a few too many times, Corrigan knew his way around a pair of handcuffs.
At Bryce's comment, Corrigan had blinked, startled, and then cursed his own stupidity.
From there, we went back to school with the handcuffs still on, but they were taped so Miss Connors wouldn't figure out that we were cheating. All three of us tried to figure out which classes to go to and we had finally decided on Corrigan's fifth period with Mr. Hankins. I had just settled back for a nap when Mena strolled in wearing a black halter-top and black leather mini-skirt.
Every guy sucked in their breath. And most of the girls' mouths fell open or they hissed.
Corrigan and Bryce both appreciated the imagery, but it was Mr. Hankins who spoke up, "Miss Cruiw, you can report to the office. I'm fairly certain your dress is inappropriate. They might have a large tee shirt for you."
Mena ignored him and sat at a table in the corner.
"Miss Cruiw," Mr. Hankins tried again.
Bryce leaned forward and remarked, casually, "You're not wanted, Mena."
She snapped to attention and whirled around, "Was my brother a good lay, Sheldon? He was over at your house a little longer than he needed to be."
The class gasped and I sighed. Bryce had started this, but Mena knew where to make him hurt...
"What does it take to get it through your head?" Bryce asked. "You're not wanted."
"What'd I ever do to you?" Mena demanded.
He leaned back, coolly in control, "You're not right in the head. That's what you did."
"What? And Sheldon is? She's more screwed up than me."
"Mena," Mandy spoke up.
She was ignored when Mena cried out, "I can't believe you. You guys go at it like rabbits and you're still defending her after she screwed my brother in her garage."
That was enough. I asked, a sly grin on my face, "Did you wish it was you?"
The class held their breath.
Mena paled.
"Do you wish it had been you instead of your brother? Or do you wish it had been you that he touched?"
Mena couldn't speak. We all saw her fight for words around the choking ball of fury in her throat.
I finished, "Watch what you say, Mena. Jealousy can be a bitch and make you do things you'd rather forget."
Mr. Hankins spoke up then, calmly, "I think, Miss Cruiw, that you're wanted in the principal's office now."
"But—"
"Just go," Bryce bit out.
She stormed out, but she threw a last seething glare to our table before the door shut behind her.
I watched Bryce.
Bryce resumed his sleeping stance.
And Corrigan laughed, "Talk about making an entrance and exit."
Mr. Hankins just shook his head as he turned back again to the chalkboard. I watched Bryce, uneasily, through the entire class period until he finally sighed and murmured, out of the corner of his mouth, "I'm fine. I'm not going to go off and do something, okay?"
I stopped watching him and noticed the doodles that adorned Corrigan's notebook. I nudged him with my shoulder and asked, "What's that about?"
"Bored."
"Oh."
And I was reminded why I usually skipped any and all classes. They're just…boring.
When class was done, Chantal brushed up against Bryce as she
