I flinch as he takes the hit, pressing my face into Ozzy?
?s arm.
“He’ll be okay,” he says, fingers linked with mine. The crowd cheers when Ezra runs over to Finn and helps him off the ground.
“This is nerve wracking,” I say.
Another play—this time a long, spiraled pass gracefully spins off Finn’s fingertips. I leap to my feet, dragging Ozzy to me.
“Run, Ezra, run!” I shout, watching as Ezra makes a break, number seventeen blazing down the sideline. As he crosses into the end zone, his arms lift in the air, and the ball lands in them, like a baby cradled against his side.
That puts us up by twelve. I kiss Ozzy on the cheek and say, “Now that we’ve got a solid lead, I’m going to risk going to the bathroom. Need anything from concessions?”
“No, thanks,” he squeezes my hand one last time. “I’ll save your seat.”
I squeeze through the crowd, passing the cluster of parents and teachers. My mom is in deep conversation with Regina Waller. Monica sits on the other side, glancing up when she sees me. I avert my eyes and spot Shannon and wave. I need to call her tomorrow and tell her my suspicions on Chandler. I’m trying my hardest to let tonight be about this game, about the boys, and not ruin it with my theories.
The bathroom is heated, and I take a moment to thaw out. Winter is rushing toward us and I run my hands under the warm water. I look down at my palm and see a weird imprint. Strange lines. I rub at it, then remember Ozzy’s ring. I’d been holding his hand so tight it left a mark, an indentation.
I stare at it for a long minute, pieces of a puzzle slowly clicking into place.
Holy shit.
A group of middle schoolers walk in, making noise as I’m reaching for my phone. I push through the door and wave my way through the crowd, looking for a quiet spot. It’s a fool’s endeavor because I’m in the middle of a huge football game. The crowd, the band, the cheerleaders, horns and bells. I see a break in the crowd and head toward it—walking out the gate and into the parking lot.
I press the button to call Janice’s number when I’m close to my car.
It goes straight to voicemail.
“Hey,” I say, putting the call on speaker so I can text at the same time. “It’s Kenley. I’m going to send you a picture. I think, no, I’m pretty damn sure I know what made that bruise on Jacqueline’s face. It’s an indention from a ring. A state championship ring. A triangle. The faint shapes are a number. Nineteen—”
In the car window I see a shadow move behind me. My heart jumps in my throat and I spin.
“Hey,” I say, quickly hanging up. “What are you—”
The punch comes so fast I don’t feel the impact on my face. I stumble back, head slamming on the side mirror of the car. Black spots swim in my vision and I try to stay upright by holding onto the side of the car. I face my attacker but it’s too late, the second punch knocks me out.
34
Ozzy
The scoreboard clock runs down, ticking off the final seconds of the game, and Kenley hasn’t returned. I’m standing, but so is the rest of the crowd, pumped up and excited about a Thistle Cove win. I pull out my phone.
Oz: Where are you?
The final buzzer goes off, igniting the entire student body and everyone on the field. I push down, hoping I can find Kenley down by the track. She probably couldn’t get back to the seats and waited down below so she could get to the guys after the game.
Except she’s not down by the track. I follow the surge of fans on to the field. Two players dump a cooler of Gatorade over Chandler’s head. He grins with victory—the light of a win flashing in his eyes. Finn and Ezra and are in the middle of celebrations. The football kind—butt slaps and high fives. I find them together.
“Congrats guys,” I say. “Well done.”
Finn’s eyes meet mine, eyebrows raised. Where is she?
I shake my head and shrug, then check my phone again.
No reply.
A heavy gloved hand comes down on my shoulder. Ezra. “Where’s Kenley?”