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His grip on her wrist tightened. “What’s one more then?”
She grabbed his fingers, only managing to pry one off her. “Let me go or I’ll scream.”
He laughed and she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. “No one will hear you.”
She kicked him in the shin, hard. She’d been aiming for his knee. A kick there could have disabled him. Kicking him in the shin just made him mad. He swore and shoved her hard toward the open car door.
As she fell, her head smacked against the car’s metal edge. She screamed, but he was right. The sound wavered, too weak to carry through the building. Her scream was only a noise of frustration and anger. How had she gotten herself into this situation? How had this guy gone from asking about her name to hurting her? These things only happened in the news, in movies, in warnings given to naive young girls. Not to smart girls like her.
Panic twined through her. She kicked at Bono again, connected with some part of his body, she wasn’t sure what. She was lying half in, half out of the front seat. Instead of screaming again, she turned and pressed the horn. A blare sounded from the car. Maybe someone would hear it. Maybe someone would come out to see what was wrong.
Maybe was such a precarious word.
Still, she clung to the thought and kept fighting.
3
Elsie kicked at Bono again. This time he expected it. He grabbed hold of her leg, shoved it against the door, and drew his hand back to hit her. She braced herself and lifted one hand to protect her face.
The hit never came. Instead, Bono was yanked backward so fast it looked like he’d been sucked into something. Another figure stood behind him. Kye. Elsie recognized his white shirt. His beautiful, wonderful, chaperone white shirt.
Kye slammed Bono into the side of the car so forcefully that the thud vibrated through the vehicle. Bono swore, swinging wildly at Kye. He must have missed because Kye didn’t even flinch. Elsie dragged herself out of the car in time to see Kye swing his fist into Bono’s stomach.
Bono crumpled and let out a groan that sounded like a punctured tire.
Rage was etched across Kye’s face. He held onto Bono’s shirt with one hand, keeping him pinned against the car. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. “What do you think you’re doing, punk?”
Bono didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t fight back as Kye reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys and wallet. Kye flipped open the wallet, read the name on the license, and dropped it on the ground. He let go of Bono’s shirt but held onto the keys. “I’ll keep these so you don’t drive off before the police get here.”
The word police seemed to bring Bono to life. He coughed out, “Sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“Shut up,” Kye said.
Bono shot a last look at Elsie, then darted away from Kye and sprinted through the parking lot.
For a moment Kye looked as though he would go after him, but instead, he surveyed Elsie. Only a little of the anger faded from his expression. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, even though she wasn’t okay at all. She was shaking. Cold. She wrapped her arms around herself. It didn’t help.
“Did he hurt you?” Kye already had his phone out and was calling someone.
She touched the side of her head. A lump had formed there. A patch of moisture told her it was bleeding. “He pushed me, and I hit my head.”
Kye swore and gazed across the parking lot where Bono had run. He was gone, had disappeared into the darkness.
Kye bent down, picked up the wallet, then took hold of Elsie’s arm. Gently, he led her back toward the building. Everything had happened so fast she’d barely had time to think about it, but now the last few moments were repeating in her mind in slow motion. A guy had attacked her. Attacked her. Tried to…what would have happened if Kye hadn’t come? Would she have been able to fight Bono off? Or would he have…right now, she could be back in that car, with Bono hitting her—or worse. Even thinking about it made her stomach turn.
Kye was talking on the phone, relating what had just happened. Elsie didn’t know who he was speaking to. The police? One of the other chaperones? Her parents?
That’s when she started crying—not when she’d been attacked, not when she’d been rescued; she cried at the thought of telling her parents. Elsie wanted her mother, wanted her mother’s comforting arms around her. But how could she tell her the rest? She felt so stupid, so helpless.
Kye slipped his phone into his pocket, took hold of her elbow, and led her to the building. It was all a blur in her mind. The music blaring and bodies moving. Kye guided her past the dance area and found one of the other chaperones—an overweight man with gray hair who looked at Elsie with sympathetic eyes while Kye explained what had happened. “Does she need to go to the hospital?”
Kye brushed away her bangs to look at her injury. “I don’t think it will need stitches. We should put something on it, though.”
Elise hated feeling like a victim. This was not the sort of attention she’d wanted.
The man led them to the nurse’s office and got first aid supplies from one of the cupboards. The lights seemed too bright here. Everything looked too colorful and happy.
