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Suddenly, I lie flat, moving away from the hammer point. That gives me maybe half a second to roll onto my side. Cillian yells and brings the hammer down, hits the floor, and I grab his wrist. I squeeze and pull as hard as I can. He screams and lets the hammer go. I grab it and jump to my feet. The big man is rushing at me.
With a roar, I spin. The hammer catches him in the side of the mouth. Time slows as his gold tooth flips end over end, winking in the sunlight. I hit him again, hard, in the gut. He keels over, and then I turn on Cillian, kneeing him in the head when he tries to tackle me to the ground.
“Run!” I roar at Ellie and her friend. “Now!”
They jump up and make for the door. Ellie stops. I glare at her friend. “Get her out of here!”
I don’t have time to watch her go. When I turn back, Cillian is on the floor, rubbing his head and groaning. The big man stands a foot away, hunched over but with his hands raised in a boxing stance. Jane lingers over to the side, not even seeming annoyed the women have gotten away. She watches with hazy-eyed curiosity.
“The campus police will be here soon,” I tell the big man. “Your only choice now is how messed up you will be when they arrive.”
I move the hammer from one hand to the other. The big man grins. He can barely even close his hands into fists. I wonder if it’s from the last time we met when I crushed his wrists.
“Tough guy with a hammer.”
“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”
“You sucker punched me, stole my girl, and stole my dog.”
“You were abusing that dog and the girl.”
The man yells and runs at me. It’s the stupidest thing he could’ve done. I leap to the side. I bring the hammer around in a sideways arc, the heavy head crushing into his gut. He grunts and throws himself atop me, but he’s winded. I turn into him as we fall. I crush him, catch my balance, and end up on top. Then I headbutt him so damn hard I see stars.
Quickly, I jump to my feet, drive my foot into his gut, and hold it there until his hands go limp at his sides. Cillian is still groaning, cradling his head.
Jane sighs when she hears the sirens. “This hasn’t gone at all to plan.”
“I thought you needed help,” I growl, “but you’re broken, Jane. Ellie deserves better than you. Vanessa deserves better.”
Cillian suddenly springs up, rushing at me. I can’t take my foot off the big man, but I don’t need to. I spin, catching him with my fist right across the mouth. He yelps and falls to the floor.
I gesture with the hammer. “Are you sorry now?” I roar. “Are you fucking sorry?”
“Yes, yes,” he wails, raising his hands. “Please. Stop. I’m s-sorry.”
“Ooh, yes,” Jane says, tittering louder, almost like she wants to drown out the sirens. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I killed our little brat, and you got your panties in a twist.”
“Don’t forget about punching yourself in the face,” I say, laughing grimly, knowing she’ll never repeat this. Nobody else will ever hear her say it.
“Oh, that,” she beams. “I’m sorry about my incredible makeup skills,” she adds. Then, when we hear footsteps outside, she changes her face. She starts to cry. “H-help!”
“So that’s your plan,” I say, almost laughing again. “You were a victim in all this?”
“Help me!”
“Okay, Jane. Okay.”
The door opens, and campus police rush in with Ellie close behind them. Jane is in the corner of the room now, wailing, apparently having a mental breakdown. Ellie walks over to where she was sitting, leans down, and picks something up.
“What’s that?” I ask as the cops approach me, their hands raised.
She smiles. Her eyes have a new, fresh brightness, almost like a flare of victory. She turns to Jane, her smile growing wider. “Oh, I just dropped my lipstick.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Ellie
Two days after the fallout, Max, Mom, and I sit around the table in our living room. Mom rests her elbows on her knees with her fingers interlaced, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes her hands together.
Max sits beside me, his bandage just about showing above his collar from where Cillian held him hostage with the hammer. He turns to me, smiling softly, but there’s still that fierceness in his icy blue eyes. It’s the warrior I saw in the lecture hall when he saved me, saved us.
Mom knows what’s on the recording. I used the lipstick device I bought just in case I ran into Aunt Jane again. I’ve told her, and the fact that Jane, Cillian, and that horrible gold-toothed man are in jail confirms it. Well, I guess that man doesn’t have a gold tooth anymore.
