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Jaron reaches over and takes my hand in his. I stiffen. I’ve never held hands with a guy before. Well, other than Dad when I was little, but this is very different. He laces our fingers together. “That can be arranged,” he says.
My heart is racing. There are too many emotions swirling inside me, I can’t speak. His hands are rough and dry, but warm. It feels good. I wish we could just keep driving like this.
Too soon, Jaron pulls into my driveway. Right behind Dylan’s car. Uh-oh. He did beat us home. Jaron releases my hand and we both climb out. My fingers feel cold and lonely without his. Jaron walks by my side up to the door, but he doesn’t reach out and touch me again. The door flies open before I can grab the doorknob.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Mom says, throwing her arms around me. “We’ve been worried sick.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask, pulling out my phone.
“I tried,” Mom says.
I glance down and notice my phone has six missed calls. Oops. “Sorry, Mom, I must have had it on silent.”
Dylan comes up beside Mom. “I thought you guys left the party like an hour ago?”
“We were just talking,” I say.
Dad appears in the door. He can look scary and intimidating when he wants to. His hulking shoulders fill most of the doorway. “Come in here, son,” he says to Jaron. “I’ve had phone calls from Henry’s parents and Brody’s parents tonight. Followed by the principal. I heard alcohol was involved. Would you like to explain to me what happened?” Jaron’s shoulders slump as Dad leads him into the den.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Brody’s parents want to press charges against Jaron,” Dylan says.
“Because he got punched?”
Dylan nods.
“He deserved it!” I say, my voice rising.
Mom pats my arm. “I know, hon, Dylan told us what really happened. But because Jaron punched him first, they’re trying to charge him with assault.”
My face flushes with anger. “What’s going to happen to Jaron?”
“Your dad might not have a choice. He may have to cut him from the team.”
“What? No way!” I say. I march towards Dad’s den. “Jaron was just protecting me.”
Mom holds me back. “Just let your dad handle it, please,” she says.
“Handle what? Kicking him off the team for rescuing me?”
Mom just stands there, watching me with sad eyes. She says nothing. She does nothing. I can feel my blood boiling over.
“This isn’t fair!” I scream.
Mom reaches a hand out, but I yank my arm away. “Sometimes life…”
But her words trail off. I never hear the end of that sentence because I run up the stairs to my room and slam the door. How can Mom and Dad let this happen? Why are Brody’s parents defending the way he acted tonight? I pace around the room, my thoughts swimming. I finally collapse onto the bed, feeling like I could drown in helplessness. Jaron is never going to speak to me again. This is all my fault. I never should have gone to that party and tried to be someone I’m not.
***
Saturday morning, I get woken up by a text. I shift slowly. I must have fallen asleep in my clothes. My eyes are blurry from the makeup I never washed off. Memories from the party flood back to me and I jump out of bed. I race downstairs in search of Dad. I have to set things right.
I can’t find him or Mom in their room, or office, or den. I run back upstairs and burst into Dylan’s room. “Where’s Mom and Dad?” I ask.
Dylan is sprawled across the top of his bed, in his boxers. His hair is sticking up on one side. “Get out,” he groans.
“Do you know where Dad is?”
