“I have nothing but problems with you,” David said, matching Tamani with two steps of his own, bringing him within arm’s reach.
Tamani took one more step forward, halving the gap, and felt, rather than saw, eyes turn toward them. “Tell me how you really feel,” Tamani said, so quietly he doubted anyone else even heard.
“Even my vocabulary couldn’t quite describe it,” David said, crossing his arms over his chest.
It wasn’t exactly trash talk—maybe nerd trash talk—but Tamani had to admit it was clever. “Luckily,” Tamani said, a malicious grin playing at the corners of his mouth, “I know a lot more words than you, òinseach.” He threw the Gaelic word at David with more scorn than the literal translation probably warranted. The lunch bell rang, but Tamani scarcely heard it.
“You’re just baiting me,” David said, but he sounded unsure. Hesitant. “You want me to make Laurel mad. You want her to feel sorry for you.” More students were gathering around them, hopeful for some entertainment.
“Not at all,” Tamani said, placing the fingertips of one hand against David’s chest. “I want to put you in your place, burraidh.” He pushed just hard enough that David had to take one small step backward to keep his balance.
The combination of confusion and anger had just the right effect. David stepped forward and pushed Tamani back. He could have kept himself upright, or taken David to the ground with his own momentum, but instead Tamani staggered back, then came forward with both hands outstretched. He put a lot of show into the push, but little effort; still David had to take two steps back this time. Before he could recover, Tamani moved in close and shoved him one more time, so David’s back hit the lockers with a rickety metal clang.
“Fight!” an anonymous student shouted from the crowd. Others took up the chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Oh yes, Tamani thought. A cornered animal will always fight.
As David’s fist slammed into Tamani’s jaw, he was forced to admit that the boy had a good arm. But Tamani’s pain was swallowed up in satisfaction; David had thrown the first punch. He was fair game.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LAUREL WAITED OUTSIDE CHELSEA’S CLASSROOM AND grabbed her arm as she walked out. “Are you and Ryan eating lunch with us today?” Laurel asked.
“I think so,” Chelsea said. “Why?”
“You just sneak off together sometimes,” Laurel said—though they seemed to be sneaking off a good deal less than usual these days. Chelsea steadfastly refused to confront Ryan about Harvard, and keeping her mouth shut about it seemed to be taking its toll. “I wanted to check.” The truth was, she didn’t want to face David alone. Not yet. She was still mad that he’d “bumped” into Tamani that morning. She didn’t think she had the patience to head off both guys’ bad behavior today.
Laurel heard the commotion before she saw it. She and Chelsea rounded the corner just in time to see David slam his fist into Tamani’s face. In the time it took her to blink, Tamani had David by the shirt. David took one lightning-quick blow to the stomach and doubled over, gasping for breath. Tamani held on and raised his free hand to strike again.
“Tamani!” She ran forward, shoving people out of her way to get to them.
Tamani held on to David’s shirt a moment longer, but when Laurel emerged from the crowd, he shoved David back, releasing his T-shirt and leaving a wrinkled circle where his hand had clenched it.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Laurel yelled, looking back and forth between them.
“He started it!” David shouted, looking like he was about to attack Tamani again.
“He hit me,” Tamani said calmly, addressing his complaint to Laurel with his hands resting easily on his hips. “What was I supposed to do? Let him?”
“You wanted me to hit you and you know it,” David said, lunging forward. Ryan grabbed David by the shoulder and pulled him back. David shoved Ryan’s arm away, but he didn’t try to go for Tamani again.
“Oh, please,” Tamani argued, looking at David. “You’ve been wanting to take a shot at me since day one, admit it.”
“With pleasure,” David growled.
“That’s enough!” Laurel yelled. “I can’t believe . . . what the . . . forget it!” she said, raising her hands sharply to cut off all protests. “You want me to choose? Fine, I’ll choose. I choose to walk away from you both! I don’t want either of you if you’re going to act like this. I’m through.” She spun on her heel and started shoving her way toward the front doors.
“Laurel!” The desperation in David’s voice made Laurel stop and turn.
“No,” she said levelly. “I’m not going to do this again. We’re done.” She didn’t look back as she broke into a run. She heard footsteps behind her, but she couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop.
“Mr. Lawson! What is the meaning of this!” She’d recognize his voice anywhere; it was Mr. Roster, the vice principal. “Mr. Collins! Tam Collins, come back here this instant!”
Laurel kept going and no one called after her. She shot through the front doors, grateful she’d driven that morning instead of riding with David—or Tamani. She jammed the keys in the ignition and for the first time she could remember, peeled out of her parking spot. The asphalt lot was not yet thick with milling students and Laurel didn’t touch her brakes until she pulled up to the first stop sign.
Tamani took one more step forward, halving the gap, and felt, rather than saw, eyes turn toward them. “Tell me how you really feel,” Tamani said, so quietly he doubted anyone else even heard.
“Even my vocabulary couldn’t quite describe it,” David said, crossing his arms over his chest.
It wasn’t exactly trash talk—maybe nerd trash talk—but Tamani had to admit it was clever. “Luckily,” Tamani said, a malicious grin playing at the corners of his mouth, “I know a lot more words than you, òinseach.” He threw the Gaelic word at David with more scorn than the literal translation probably warranted. The lunch bell rang, but Tamani scarcely heard it.
“You’re just baiting me,” David said, but he sounded unsure. Hesitant. “You want me to make Laurel mad. You want her to feel sorry for you.” More students were gathering around them, hopeful for some entertainment.
“Not at all,” Tamani said, placing the fingertips of one hand against David’s chest. “I want to put you in your place, burraidh.” He pushed just hard enough that David had to take one small step backward to keep his balance.
The combination of confusion and anger had just the right effect. David stepped forward and pushed Tamani back. He could have kept himself upright, or taken David to the ground with his own momentum, but instead Tamani staggered back, then came forward with both hands outstretched. He put a lot of show into the push, but little effort; still David had to take two steps back this time. Before he could recover, Tamani moved in close and shoved him one more time, so David’s back hit the lockers with a rickety metal clang.
“Fight!” an anonymous student shouted from the crowd. Others took up the chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Oh yes, Tamani thought. A cornered animal will always fight.
As David’s fist slammed into Tamani’s jaw, he was forced to admit that the boy had a good arm. But Tamani’s pain was swallowed up in satisfaction; David had thrown the first punch. He was fair game.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LAUREL WAITED OUTSIDE CHELSEA’S CLASSROOM AND grabbed her arm as she walked out. “Are you and Ryan eating lunch with us today?” Laurel asked.
“I think so,” Chelsea said. “Why?”
“You just sneak off together sometimes,” Laurel said—though they seemed to be sneaking off a good deal less than usual these days. Chelsea steadfastly refused to confront Ryan about Harvard, and keeping her mouth shut about it seemed to be taking its toll. “I wanted to check.” The truth was, she didn’t want to face David alone. Not yet. She was still mad that he’d “bumped” into Tamani that morning. She didn’t think she had the patience to head off both guys’ bad behavior today.
Laurel heard the commotion before she saw it. She and Chelsea rounded the corner just in time to see David slam his fist into Tamani’s face. In the time it took her to blink, Tamani had David by the shirt. David took one lightning-quick blow to the stomach and doubled over, gasping for breath. Tamani held on and raised his free hand to strike again.
“Tamani!” She ran forward, shoving people out of her way to get to them.
Tamani held on to David’s shirt a moment longer, but when Laurel emerged from the crowd, he shoved David back, releasing his T-shirt and leaving a wrinkled circle where his hand had clenched it.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Laurel yelled, looking back and forth between them.
“He started it!” David shouted, looking like he was about to attack Tamani again.
“He hit me,” Tamani said calmly, addressing his complaint to Laurel with his hands resting easily on his hips. “What was I supposed to do? Let him?”
“You wanted me to hit you and you know it,” David said, lunging forward. Ryan grabbed David by the shoulder and pulled him back. David shoved Ryan’s arm away, but he didn’t try to go for Tamani again.
“Oh, please,” Tamani argued, looking at David. “You’ve been wanting to take a shot at me since day one, admit it.”
“With pleasure,” David growled.
“That’s enough!” Laurel yelled. “I can’t believe . . . what the . . . forget it!” she said, raising her hands sharply to cut off all protests. “You want me to choose? Fine, I’ll choose. I choose to walk away from you both! I don’t want either of you if you’re going to act like this. I’m through.” She spun on her heel and started shoving her way toward the front doors.
“Laurel!” The desperation in David’s voice made Laurel stop and turn.
“No,” she said levelly. “I’m not going to do this again. We’re done.” She didn’t look back as she broke into a run. She heard footsteps behind her, but she couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop.
“Mr. Lawson! What is the meaning of this!” She’d recognize his voice anywhere; it was Mr. Roster, the vice principal. “Mr. Collins! Tam Collins, come back here this instant!”
Laurel kept going and no one called after her. She shot through the front doors, grateful she’d driven that morning instead of riding with David—or Tamani. She jammed the keys in the ignition and for the first time she could remember, peeled out of her parking spot. The asphalt lot was not yet thick with milling students and Laurel didn’t touch her brakes until she pulled up to the first stop sign.
