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“I want to learn more about you,” I say, and she’s got no clue how true that is.
She lets out a long breath. “Basically, in school, I was always shy and bookish. I didn’t really mind, except I was a kid. I was still susceptible to the things other kids were. Wanting to be popular, all that stuff. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had such little experience talking to people. All I did was read books.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I say.
“You would say that, an English Lit professor.”
I chuckle. “Still, I didn’t speak to people much growing up.”
“What? Really? Why?”
I smirk. “You sound surprised.”
“You just seem so confident.”
“If I am, that came later. As a kid, I’d sometimes go weeks without speaking to anybody. My parents passed when I was young. My uncle—the man who took me in for a while—was an evil man. He ran a dog fighting ring. He forced me to care for the dogs.”
I softly stroke Petey with my foot, and he whines and rolls onto his side.
“Then I ran away. I got sent into the system instead. It was bad in many ways, but at least I didn’t have to see those dogs get hurt. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“It’s okay, Max,” she says, pausing on my name as though testing it. “That’s awful. I’m so, so sorry. Thank you for telling me. I know it’s hard.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Still, those poor dogs.”
I swallow. “Sometimes, I hear them. A few years later, as a teenager, I ran into one man who often visited the fights. He recognized me and laughed about it. I broke his nose, Ellie. I seriously hurt him badly.”
My voice is dead. I’m not bragging. Sometimes, looking back on the more violent parts of my life, I’m shocked at how fierce I can be.
“Seriously, thank you for sharing that,” she murmurs.
I never meant to, but talking to her is far easier than it has any right to be.
“What were you saying? I derailed you.”
She pauses and breathes softly. “It was nothing as terrible as that. I almost feel silly explaining it now.”
“You don’t have to downplay your emotions,” I say fiercely. “You don’t have to pretend to be somebody you’re not or doubt yourself. Not with me.”
Again, she could ask what the hell I’m talking about. We haven’t touched. We haven’t even kissed, but I’m speaking as though we have some deep, unbreakable bond.
“This jock called Cillian asked me to the junior prom. He asked me in front of the whole cafeteria, and I was stunned. I didn’t even really like him. That’s my fault, saying yes to somebody just for the… the… I don’t even know now! The social side of it.”
“I understand. Every teenager wants to fit in and be popular.”
“That’s all it was,” she sighs. “It seems so silly now. Anyway, I show up at prom. He takes me into a closet because he has a surprise. He says it’s a special outfit. He blindfolds me. Then he puts a pig’s snout and ears on me, leading me out of the closest. All his buddies are there, snapping photos, making noises, and laughing.”
My hand tightens around the phone. I imagine it’s this prick’s throat—this Cillian. I envision I’m squeezing until all the life drains from him.
“He had no right to do that,” I snarl. “The pathetic mongrel.”
“That wasn’t even the worst part,” she says, laughing darkly. “I wish it had just been that night—a horrible prank and some stupid laughs. The photos and the videos went around our school, then to every school in the county and state. I was a meme—a joke. People laughed just because I was there. I’d walk down the hallway, and everybody, every single person, would laugh. Some would do worse.”
I’m trembling all over. I’m thinking of this bastard, this Cillian, of seriously hurting him.
“And he was the one at the restaurant?” I say.
“Yeah,” she laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “He didn’t make a big deal out of it, but I could see it in his eyes. I don’t know what to do if he comes back.”
“You can call me if that happens,” I growl.
“Really?”
“Really. You can call me.”
“Thank you, Max. I might do that.”
We both know how ridiculous this is. Why would she call me, a stranger?
“I should get going,” I tell her. “See you tomorrow.”
After saying goodbye, I carry Petey to the end of the hallway, to Ben’s room, and knock on the door. Once Ben has agreed to take him, I go into the gym.
I think of Cillian, and I beat the punching bag so hard my knuckles bleed.
CHAPTER
NINE
Ellie
“This is a tattoo studio?” Aunt Jane says, driving us down the forest road toward Professor… toward Max’s house.
“It’s a, uh, private session,” I murmur.
