“Well, thanks again, I guess,” I finally say, and know it’s lame.
“Whatever,” he growls, turning to go. “Just go to bed. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
His response is grating. I release a huff of breath and yank the door of my building open. Stepping inside, I pause, letting it fall shut behind me as I watch him walk away through the glass.
I don’t go to my room. Instead, I go straight to Loni’s. I have to tell her what I’ve figured out about Nick’s attack, and it won’t wait until morning.
Reaching her door, I raise my fist and bang on it, not caring if I’m disturbing the entire floor. It’s only a few moments before it opens and Loni is standing on the threshold in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her curls, staring at me with huge brown eyes as Dorito rubs against her bare leg.
“Mal? What’s wrong? Why are you pounding on my door like that?”
I push her back into her room and shut the door behind me.
“Loni, something just happened, and I think I’ve figured out something major.”
She blinks, and I may be overwhelming her with my manic energy.
“What did you figure out?” she demands. “What happened?”
I grab her hand and pull her to her bed, sitting down and urging her to join me. Once she’s settled, I take a deep breath and launch into my story.
“I was supposed to meet Liam at the library for our English project, but while I was searching for him, I stumbled on Jon Eric and Finnegan. They were … they were tormenting a freshman. I think he was a football player.”
“Okay,” she says slowly, using the edge of her towel to wipe a trickle of water from her temple.
“I interrupted them, and they turned on me…”
“Oh my God! Are you all right?”
I nod. “I wasn’t, not really, but then Saint saved me—”
“Saint!” Her eyes are saucers. Of course, this would be the most shocking thing to her so far.
I wave my hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, he’s not the focus right now.”
“If Saint Angelle saving you isn’t the focus of your story, what the fuck is?”
I grab her shoulders and look her straight in the eye. “Loni, listen to me. I don’t think Saint attacked Nick. I think Jon Eric and Finnegan did.”
She lets out a gasp and her face drains of color again. “What? What makes you think that?”
“It was the way they were going after this kid. The things they”—I haul in a deep breath before I continue—"planned to do to him. It was the same stuff you said had happened to Nick.”
She’s silent for a long beat, and I don’t know if she’s understood exactly what I’ve said or not.
“Loni? Are you okay?”
“So … Brandon wasn’t protecting Saint. He was protecting those assholes?”
“I think so,” I reply in a soft voice.
Her eyes suddenly flash with fury, and I’m a little startled. She looks murderous as she leaps to her feet, pacing her room. “Oh god. It all makes sense. I mean, I’ve always wondered why he’d protect Saint, of all the people, and—” Fisting her hands, she tugs in a shaky breath and starts for the door. “I’m going to kill that fucker.”
Instinct has me chasing after her. I throw myself against the door to keep her from storming out into the hall.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find Bran, cut his balls off, and shove them down his throat!”
I hold up my hands and shake my head frantically.
“No, no, bad idea.” I think of Jon Erin and Finnegan, and what they might do to the two of us if we start spreading word that they’re responsible for Nick’s attack. We need a plan before we can throw that information around. “Take a breath, Loni. You’re not thinking straight right now. Plus, you’re in a bathrobe.”
“Says the girl who punched Twatiana while wearing a towel,” she points out angrily. Closing her eyes, she takes a few seconds before she softly demands, “Do you know how terrible it’s been for Henry and his family?” There are tears in her eyes when she looks at me again, and it breaks my heart.
“I can’t possibly know,” I say softly. “But I can only imagine it’s been hell.”
“And Brandon knew! He knew, and he didn’t say anything. All this time I stupidly thought he was keeping his mouth shut because he was scared of Saint, not because he was worried about his precious football team.”
“I know, I know.” I take hold of her shoulders and usher her back to the bed. “It’ll be okay. We can figure this out. You just need to breathe.”
I coach her through some deep breaths until she’s calmed down enough that we can talk more rationally.
“What do we do, Mal?” she murmurs, laying her head on my shoulder.
I release a heavy sigh and shake my head. “I’m not sure yet. We need to really think about this, okay? Don’t do anything crazy until we have a plan.”
She looks hesitant to agree, but finally, she nods.
“All right. Until we have a plan.”
I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight, hoping to reassure her that everything’s going to be all right, even if I’m not sure I believe that myself.
The next day, things are very strange. When I’m working in the dining hall for my detention after breakfast, I’m petrified when Jon Eric suddenly walks in. He spots me and freezes, and I feel my stomach pitch, but not because I’m afraid of him.
No, it’s because his face is so messed up.
He looks like he was in a car crash or something. His skin is covered in ugly dark bruises, his bottom lip is split, and one of his eyes is swollen shut.
What the hell happened?
He gazes around frantically, as if he’s searching for something.
“Slut,” he snaps from across the room, but he looks scared out of his mind as he says it. Before I can get a word in edgewise, he takes off back into the hall again.
I’m stunned.
What the fuck was that?
Things only get weirder from there.
I arrive in English class to find Liam sitting in the seat next to my usual one. With hesitant steps, I make my way over to him and frown when he grins at me as though he’s amused.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
He cocks his head and drags his brown eyes over me. “Nothing. You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
I settle into my seat next to him and shoot him a dark look.
“What’re you talking about?”
He shrugs, that funny little smile never leaving his face.
“Sorry I didn’t make it last night,” he says, side-stepping my question.
I want to press him to reveal what he meant, but I decide against it. He’s talking to me, and not glaring. I need to take these wins as they come to me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, turning to dig out my textbook so he doesn’t see how really not okay I am. It’s not his fault, I know that. It was just an unfortunate coincidence that he didn’t show up last night, and Jon Eric and Finnegan were there. “Saint let me know.”