Before I could make it to where everyone had parted for our principal, he called out, “Grab your bag, Mr. Dixon.”
Damn it.
I turned, not even sure where it had ended up, and found Savannah holding it close to her chest.
“I’ll see you after school,” she said firmly as she handed it over.
I didn’t respond. I never did when these things happened. I was always waiting for her to realize what she should’ve years ago.
That I was bad news. Dangerous. That she should get far from me and never look back—everything her parents told her on a near-daily basis.
But that girl hadn’t left my side since the day she’d fallen into my life. Truthfully? I didn’t know what I would do if she did. But if it was better for Savannah, I would find a way to deal.
I would do anything for her.
“Mr. Dixon,” the principal said, sighing heavily when I followed him into the office. “Why was I not surprised to see you in the middle of that fight? Wait, no!” he said quickly like I’d been about to answer.
I hadn’t been.
“Not in the middle of it. You’d already taken out three students and were looking for someone else to fight. Anyone else. Isn’t that right?”
I wasn’t sure about that part. Didn’t mean he was wrong.
I couldn’t remember anything that happened between turning for the third guy and the moment I found Savannah directly in front of me.
“Got anything to say for yourself?” He leaned toward me from where he was sitting on the edge of his desk. “Be thankful those boys were getting up, or we’d be having a different conversation.”
Another heavy sigh left him when I didn’t respond.
“Mr. Dixon, I want to be able to help you. I do—we all do here. But you make it hard when you don’t talk to us and you terrorize the hallways and my students.”
My jaw ached when I met his stare.
His head slanted like he was expecting something from me. “If there’s anything you want to say before I call your parents, now’s the time.”
“You should be calling their parents,” I murmured.
“What’s that?”
“Call their parents,” I snapped. “I’m not the one terrorizing your precious hallways.”
“Check the way you’re speaking to me, Mr. Dixon.”
“I’m not the one terrorizing other kids,” I continued, voice getting low with my rising anger. “Those assholes are there every day, calling out shit to everyone.”
“Okay, language,” the principal said in a calming tone.
It had the opposite effect on me.
“Making fun of kids. Talking about girls in ways they shouldn’t. Touching them.”
“Let’s sit down.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I bit out and jerked away from his hand.
I hadn’t realized I’d stood. But I was there. Right in front of him. Hands clenched into tight fists and body trembling with the anger that was always waiting to be set free.
“Sit down,” he shouted.
The edges of my vision went red in response.
I turned and shoved the door to his office open, storming through it and down the hall with him right behind me.
“Get back here, Mr. Dixon.”
“I got it, I’m suspended,” I called out as I continued away from him.
By the time I made it out of the main office, I was running.
Running to get away before I could make it worse. Trying to outrun the anger and humiliation fighting for dominance in my veins.
By the time I made it home, Mom was waiting outside, and Dad was pulling up from the orchard.
Mom just looked at me, hands slapping against her thighs as a soft sob left her. “Beau—”
“Let’s take a second,” Dad said, trying to remain the calm one. “Let’s take a breath and get inside, then we’ll talk.”
“It’s the third time,” she cried out to him before looking back at me. “Third time this year, Beau. What if those boys are seriously injured? What if—”
“Wendy,” Dad said, disapproval filling his tone.
She let out another cry and wiped at her face. “Beau, I just . . .” A breath left her, heavy and weighed down, looking like it dragged her shoulders down with it. She didn’t need to finish the thought, I already knew what she was thinking.
She didn’t know what to do with me anymore.
She’d been saying that for a long, long time.
I nodded and started walking for the house, already knowing they were gonna send me to my room, but stopped when she asked, “What could possibly have happened this time to make you do this?”
A jagged breath left me as the echo of their taunts played in my mind.
“Damn, Riley, been hiding those girls under sweatshirts all winter?”
“It’s a crime to keep those from the rest of us.”
“Give us a little peek.”
Things those idiots said to girls all the time.
Shit that should’ve been stopped long ago. But that hadn’t been what set me off—Savannah had kept a firm hand on me as we’d passed them. Keeping me moving. Grounded. Making sure I wouldn’t react when I’d tried to.
It had been the high five Savannah received when she’d come into one of the classes we shared later. The gossip that followed.
Two of the guys had blocked her path to class while the third had grabbed her ass. She’d turned and slapped him.
Philip Rowe.
I hated that guy.
What’s worse? His family was close to Savannah’s. Their dads had been in the same fraternity in college, and Philip’s dad was the whole reason Mr. Riley took a job near Amber, prompting their move here.
And I got to listen to Mrs. Riley talk about how perfect it would be if Savannah and Philip got married when they grew up. How great of a kid Philip was—so polite and proper and that young boy’s going places . . . just you watch.
Bullshit.
If she only knew.
Savannah had tried to get my attention all throughout class. She’d tried to stop me when the bell rang. But I was already so far gone, racing out of class and down the halls.
No one touched Savannah. Ever.
Especially not perfect, fucking Philip.
“They did something,” I finally answered with a quick shrug before continuing to the house.
Mom let out a sound that shouted all her frustration and sadness.
Dad tried to calm her.
I went inside and climbed the stairs, then hid behind the hallway wall. Waiting for when they would enter the house.
“What do we do?” Mom said through her tears. “What are we gonna do with him, Mike?”
“Wendy, just breathe.”
“I am breathing,” she cried out. “You don’t understand what it’s like having to deal with the calls from parents. What it’s like having to listen to them describe what Beau did to them. Having to apologize and try to explain something I don’t know how to explain.”
“Then I’ll take the calls,” he said calmly.
“And what happens when he puts someone in the hospital?” The last words were said so softly, they almost didn’t make it up the stairs.
But I heard them.
And they cut right into my chest.