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“Um . . . I guess you all know what happened to me,” he began. “I’m still recovering from hitting the rocks with my head. Thank you, Freddie. Sincerely. You saved my life . . .” He swept an arm toward the teacher’s aide who, he’d been told, kept his head above water—otherwise, he would have drowned, like Carmen. Freddie Mouton stood up and balanced on his crutches. The church exploded in applause. There was a lot looser vibe now that Reverend Proffitt was gone.
He glanced at the pastor, who smiled at him encouragingly. Swallowing, he was determined to soldier on, though he’d been half-sick at the thought of getting up in front of the school. Grades, school, learning . . . it was all easy for him, but public speaking, not so much. Still, he knew that he needed to tell his story and change a few minds about him. He could see Brad, who’d walked to the back with his video camera. He wanted this on record.
“We’ve all already said good-bye to Carmen, but I wanted to say to her family and all her friends how sorry I am personally. It shouldn’t have happened the way it did.”
His heart was pounding, and he made a point of not looking at the camera. He felt bad about Carmen. He hadn’t known her all that well, really, but he’d been aware that she had a big crush on him. Anytime he looked up, she was staring at him, and though he would never say so, he’d found it creepy. Like she was almost a stalker.
But he never thought she’d die . . . that she would follow him under the rope. God, he’d been messed up. The letter he’d been waiting for from U of O’s athletic department had come that afternoon and dashed all his last dreams of making the team. His dad didn’t care. He was only interested in Tanner’s scholastics. He didn’t understand about footb
all.
Now he exhaled. With his apology out of the way and the sympathetic nods of the crowd, some of them wiping away tears, he could relax a bit. His gaze searched the crowd, and he found Delta. Part D of the Five Firsts. Dark haired, dark-eyed with smooth skin, the most gorgeous girl in the whole class. His stepmother, Lori, had smiled at Tanner in that silky way of hers when she’d first seen Delta and said, “Mmm-mmm,” which had made him feel weird at first, until he’d learned that was just her way.
And there was Amanda, Part A. He briefly thought of her blond head lying on his stomach, her tongue moving downward while her fingers unbuckled his belt . . .
“I remember Carmen in fifth grade,” he said, quickly pushing that dangerous thought aside. “She was the best soccer player on the team. The girls went undefeated that year, and their team was on the reader board outside Palisades Market.”
There was a rumble of conversation, a bit of laughter, and one of the girls raised her fist, pumping it a few times. Bailey Quintar. Tanner’s lifting mood took a tumble. Bailey blamed him for Carmen’s death. He’d tried to tell her it was just an accident, but she wouldn’t listen.
He went on, “Carmen, though, gave up soccer for volleyball.” “And softball,” a guy yelled from the back. Trent Collingsworth. At one time, he and Tanner had been good friends, but they’d split around junior high. Trent, really more religious than Carmen, had become one of the do-gooders. It was a wonder that Carmen, being the minister’s daughter, had veered away a bit, but then maybe that was the way it always was.
“Yeah,” Tanner agreed. This was way better. He was on familiar ground.
He saw Zora, tucked in between Delta and Amanda. She was petite and cute, and he suspected she would lie down for him anytime. They’d already indulged in a heavy make-out session once, but she’d sworn him to secrecy, saying he could never, never, never, tell anyone, that being in the Five Firsts was the most important thing to her, that she would be kicked out, so he could never tell.
His gaze swept over some of the senior faculty—Principal Kiefer, Ms. Reade, and Mr. Timmons—were they really a couple? —Counselor Billings in that pink sweater that showed off her breasts, Coach Sutton, whose hangdog face had grown even longer...
Then he glanced at his friends: Penske with his freckles and cowlick, Sumpter the steroid buff. McCrae and Woody Deavers were there, too, but he’d never been real bros with them.
His father had said all his friends were chaff. Not a wheat stalk among them. Tanner had argued and fought for them, but in the end, he sensed his father was right. He, Tanner, was going to med school. Sure, his old man had fucked up, had gotten his medical license suspended, but it had turned into a blessing in disguise. His father’s line of energy products, vitamins, and stuff was in all the regional stores, part of the “natural” section, and he was making a small fortune.
“I just wanted to say we all miss her,” he finished. “She was one of us, and it shouldn’t have happened this way.”
He felt something and saw Bailey’s eyes burning into him. His spit dried up, and he wrenched his gaze away. She knew something, and she was blaming him. What did she know? Had Carmen said something to her? Carmen should have never followed after him into the woods . . . She sure as hell got more than she’d bargained for. He felt a flash of rage at both Carmen and Bailey. It wasn’t his fault things had happened the way they had, and it sure as hell better not become a problem.
“Thanks,” he said, abruptly, needing to get away. His head throbbed.
As he was walking down the steps and back to the main floor, he saw Ellie O’Brien rise from her seat and pass by him on her way to the podium. She was a redhead, and he sensed she was readily available, too. She sent out that vibe. Was she as fiery as her hair suggested? His cock stirred a bit at the thought, and he quickly forced his mind away from her.
At his own row, Tanner worked his way back into a spot that McCrae had damn near overtaken.
“Move,” he muttered, shoving in.
McCrae grudgingly gave him room.
“Everyone liked Carmen,” Ellie’s voice was saying in a commanding way. “She had lots of friends.”
Yeah, right.
He saw her gaze settle almost accusingly on Amanda, Delta, and Zora. “She was a best friend to everyone, but especially Bailey Quintar. I remember horseback riding with Carmen. Neither one of us was any good—well, at first—but Carmen caught on right away and helped me stay on my horse, which really wanted to scrape me off his back. I know it’s been said before, but she was a natural athlete . . .”
Tanner lost the thread of what she was saying. Ellie was too skinny for his taste and too serious, but she always had a way in front of a crowd. He could give her that. She told a couple more lame stories that the church crowd appreciated with laughter and tears. Pretty soon she finished up, but then Bailey took the microphone from her.
Tanner braced himself. Here we go . . .
“Only the good die young,” Bailey stated flatly, her gaze laser-focused on Tanner in a way that made his heart galumph.
Jesus. He could feel her hate. He’d apologized, hadn’t he?
