I come right up to Vann’s side. I can’t believe I feel like I might have to hold him back. “Vann,” I mutter warningly. “Please.”
“I’m only gonna say this once,” Vann states. “Just the same as I warned you in the cafeteria on the first day of school, Hoyt. Stay away from Toby. This is your one and only warning.”
Hoyt’s eyes shift back and forth between me and Vann. I think he’s trying to figure out how much Vann knows, and the prospect of it terrifies him to the core.
“Vann,” I try again.
Julio, the strong and silent one of Hoyt’s friends, takes a step forward. “You better get to your side of the locker room,” he tells Vann in his deep voice. Benji only watches on, his face hanging in suspense with a wetness in his eyes that suggests a desperation to find something funny and laugh.
But nothing is funny on Vann’s stone-hard face. He pays as much attention to Julio as he would a gnat in the air. His eyes are locked solidly on Hoyt as he continues addressing him. “As long as you keep away from Toby, I won’t lay a finger on you.”
“Oh, you’d better try to lay a hand on him,” states Julio, lifting his chin, “and see what happens, city boy.”
I grip Vann’s hand at once. I feel like if I let go, it could end up through one of these guys’ faces, and that’ll be the end of it.
The bell rings, but no one moves. The locker room, I’ve also noticed, has become deathly quiet. I didn’t even realize how many guys have come around the corners of either end of our aisle to pay witness to what’s going down. It’s like we’re on a stage again, but with grimmer stakes for doing the wrong thing.
“And what’s goin’ on here, boys?”
At the sound of Coach Larry’s sudden voice, everyone quickly scatters back to their lockers—everyone except the five of us, who remain deadlocked, tension in our eyes. Only when Vann finally steps back and walks away do the others relax. Hoyt’s gaze lingers on me as I follow Vann, suspicious and dark. I don’t know what’s on his mind, but whatever it is makes me uneasy.
It isn’t until lunch that I finally speak my mind. “Vann, I really wish you hadn’t confronted him like that in the locker room.”
He’s barely touched anything on his tray. “Hoyt should have kept his hands—and lips—off of you.”
“I don’t want you getting into another fight.”
“And what happened to you standing up for yourself?”
“What do you call what I did to him in English class? Not that I meant for that to happen,” I add with a sigh. “We shouldn’t … fight fire with fire.”
“Sounds like the title to a self-help book.”
I eye him. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“What’s true is you’re settling back into just accepting things the way they are. I told you, if you don’t like something about your life, or your school, or some jock punk who props his feet up on you every day, do something about it.”
I sigh and stab my fork into a mound of mashed potatoes, the sight of which—at this particular time—reminds me far too much of that first day of school. “I just think he’s lost.”
Vann studies me. “You sure have a lot of sympathy for a guy who made your life hell.” He goes for a chicken strip, then ends up just staring at it without taking a bite, eyes dark and frustrated.
My gaze slips over his shoulder where I spot Kelsey and all of the theatre people at their usual table. None of them notice me, not even Kelsey, too caught up in some hilarious story someone’s telling that has Frankie nearly falling out of his seat busting a gut.
“Sorry.”
I lift my eyes to Vann. “What?”
“I said sorry.” He’s still contemplating that little chicken strip, pinched between his long fingers. “You’re right. Should’ve trusted your advice and shrugged it off. I won’t confront him again.”
I wasn’t expecting this concession so soon. “Thanks.”
“It’s not even a jealousy thing. Him kissing you. It’s more just who he is, what he’s done, what he thinks he can get away with … I guess I’m not as bighearted and forgiving as you.”
“I never said I forgave him.”
Vann meets my eyes. Slowly, understanding settles in them. Then he drops his chicken strip and reaches over the table for my hand, which he squeezes, his lips curling up into a soft smile. I squeeze his hand back. That little bit of reassurance is all I need.
For now.
16 | VANN
My mom stirs creamer into her coffee, and when she lifts her eyes to mine, they are cold. “I really wish you wouldn’t interpret my words so harshly. I am simply making a very valid point.”