Breakable

Amber screamed again, thankfully not sounding any further than she had seconds ago, and I turned and ran towards her voice – away from the bonfire, away from my sure thing for the night, cursing Rick Thompson and my conscience.

Out of the firelight, my compromised eyes adjusted slowly to discern two figures, kissing. Great, I thought. Fucking great. I’d abandoned the hottest girl I’d met in weeks to run down the beach and find out Thompson’s little sister was a screamer while making out. Then the smaller figure jerked away, the larger one lunged and pinned her, and they both went down in the sand. That wasn’t a do me scream – that was a get off me scream.

I took off towards them, cursing the weed buzz that made me zigzag across the goddamned sand. The last thing I was fully conscious of doing was ripping the guy up from the ground with my left hand and swinging my right fist straight into the side of his face. The initial impact of my fist to his cheekbone hurt and felt awesome. When he didn’t go down right away, I hit him again. And again. And again. Until the euphoria and rage came together and spiked, and I sort of blacked out.

I broke most of the blood vessels in the top of my hand and fractured a couple of knuckles. I didn’t even know you could do that. My right hand looked and felt like hell and was in a splint. Other than that, there wasn’t a bruise on me.

The other guy suffered a concussion that bordered on a coma for a few hours. I could have killed him. I could have killed him, and I couldn’t remember doing it.

What I did remember: handcuffs. The backseat of a police cruiser. Getting booked at the station. A jail cell that smelled of BO and piss, but thankfully housed only me. Because I wasn’t in juvie. Seventeen-year-olds are tried as adults, so they go to regular jail. As I crashed from the weed and the fight, I started shaking and couldn’t stop.

‘Maxfield!’ an officer barked sometime later, and my head shot up. ‘Bail. C’mon, move your ass outta there – unless you’re wantin’ to stay.’

I scrambled up from the bench.

I expected to see Dad. He was there, but Charles Heller was next to him. I’d forgotten they were visiting for spring break. I hadn’t seen much of them while they were here. Hadn’t made the time.

In the back seat on the way home, I didn’t make a sound. All three of us were dead quiet. Instead of dropping us off and going back to his hotel, Heller followed Dad inside.

‘I need a shower,’ I mumbled, and no one objected.

When I turned the water off, I heard their voices through the cardboard-thin door.

‘You’re losing him, Ray.’ There was a pause, and I held my breath. ‘You’re my friend, and I love you – and because I love you, I’m going to tell you the truth. You’ve f**ked this up from the beginning.

‘Cindy begged you to get him into therapy, and you chose not to. We begged you not to take him away from his friends – away from us – and move him halfway across the country, but you didn’t listen. He was in a private prep school and now he’s … he’s letting everything go. The fight tonight wasn’t his first, was it? And the drugs – there must be drinking involved, too. He’s using every method of escape he can. Because you did.’

Dad murmured something.

‘I know. But it’s not enough. He needs a goal. He needs to see worth in himself.’ Another pause. I swallowed, my eyes stinging. Heller’s voice lowered, and I couldn’t hear what he said. I left the bathroom, towel round my waist, and didn’t look at them – seated at the kitchen table – before closing myself into my pantry room.

I pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, which took three times as long with the use of one hand. It meant something to know Charles Heller cared about me. Didn’t change anything, but it meant something.

A goal. He said I needed a goal. Maybe it was time I gave up on school – my jaw clenched at the thought of giving Ingram that satisfaction – to work on the boat. If I didn’t end up in prison for the assault. I knew enough about bail to know I was only out until I got a trial date.

Funny, that out of all the fights I’d been in, the one I had good reason for would be the one that caught me. If Amber refused to testify, I was screwed. The guy I’d nearly killed was a rich college kid. He’d flashed enough cash last night to make Thompson’s dick hard – buying stashes of whatever we had and handing it out to his friends like Halloween candy. Guys his age who dressed like he did and drove Range Rovers didn’t come by money like that alone.

You got your wish, Grandpa, I thought. The boat would be my saviour. My future. My way out. It was better than prison. I closed my eyes. Better than prison. Wow, that’s f**ked up.

The second my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.

LUCAS

I couldn’t resist catching Jacqueline’s eyes for just a moment when she entered the classroom.

Her smile was tentative, unsure, and after last night, I couldn’t blame her. When I woke to find her leaving, I walked her to her truck and kissed her goodbye. Watching those tail-lights recede, I knew I could give her what she wanted, once I was free of the restrictions of being her tutor. I would be what she needed, and then I would let her go.

Because I was in love with her.

At the end of class, the blonde who’d been interested in Kennedy Moore earlier in the semester was asking me about my review session. I couldn’t remember her name. ‘It’s Thursday, regular time,’ I answered, watching Jacqueline pack up. Talking to that Benjamin guy, who flicked a glance my way, she rolled her eyes and looked at me, too.