Snatched

This isn’t really how tutoring sessions are supposed to go.

Adams and Finn pull away from one another for a moment; both have busted lips, and Adams’ shirt is torn at the collar. The freshman Finn didn’t hit joins forces with Adams; they advanced on Finn, who is SMILING. Like this is hilarious, like it’s all a big joke.

I realize why when Adams lunges at him again. Finn steps to the side, grabs Adams’ shirt, then shoves him backward and into the freshman. They both fall into a heap; Adams is back up instantly, tackling Finn at the waist. Finn, however, twists around, gets another punch into Adams’ ribs, then knees him in the instep.

It’s clear that Finn has been in a fight— in a number of fights— before, it’s clear. It’s also clear that Adams is the type who will fight until the bitter end, despite the fact that by this point, both freshmen have abandoned him, nursing their wounds in the background. This is going to get bloody and dark and way too serious before it ends—

“The cops are here!” someone shouts, and heads dart up. The Atlanta police are indeed pulling up, lights on. I see the waitress who’d served us earlier waving them in, her phone pressed tightly to her ear.

Adams changes— I mean, changes, instantly. He goes from arrogant asshole jock to polite schoolboy like a movie werewolf becoming human when clouds pass in front of the moon.

When the cops speed walk into the diner, he’s several paces away from Finn, whose face hasn’t changed at all— it’s still cocky and fight-hungry and locked on Adams in a way that makes me nervous he might keep throwing punches right here in front of the cops.

Finn glances back at me briefly as the officers approach him. They divide all four of the football players, but it doesn’t take long before it’s revealed that Finn was the one who initiated the physical part of the altercation.

“Look, boys,” one of the officers says, shaking his head. “I’m a Harton grad. I’m not interested in anyone getting into trouble this season. I’m also not interested in anyone getting hurt and being unable to play. But this sort of shit just isn’t going to fly, got it?”

Of course, of course the cop knows they’re football players. And of course that’s going to mean they get special, “I don’t want to arrest” you treatment. I’m simultaneously annoyed and relieved for Finn.

Adams holds up his hands. “I said something that must have offended my teammate here, officer. I’m uninterested in presses charges, though. I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize the team’s success.”

“That the way it happened?” the officer asks, turning to Finn.

Finn stays silent, though not stonily so— he looks, as per usual, mildly entertained by the entire situation. While Adams is doing everything he can to appear like the perfect citizen to the cops, Finn still looks like someone who’s delighted he had the opportunity to hit someone.

“That the way it happened?” the officer presses.

“I’d rather not say, sir,” Finn says, politely but shortly.

“What’d he say that made you so angry?” the officer asks patiently.

“I’d rather not say, sir,” Finn says, then looks to Adams and his friends. “Just some flaring tempers, sir. We’re fine now.”

Meanwhile, I’m not being asked a thing, of course, because I’m nobody and nothing around here.

The officer is clearly annoyed at Finn’s unwillingness to give him information, but looks to Adams and his friends all the same. “Everyone good now?”

“Yes, sir. We apologize for the disruption,” Adams says, speaking a bit louder so the other patrons can hear. Most of the restaurant is desperately pretending like they aren’t listening, picking at their meals or sipping drinks, but it’s so quiet in here that it’s almost a hilariously bad attempt.

The officer’s eyes slide to me.

“You involved in this, ma’am? Anything you want to tell me?” he asks cautiously. I’m surprised he’s actually asking me a question and suddenly I feel like a white-hot spotlight has been trained on me. I suspect it’s because I’ve never in my entire life been questioned by the police, but it’s making my jaw tremble.

“One of them made some comments,” I say, trying to coax my voice steady, “about me. Finn was just…uh…defending my…uh…honor. Or something.”

I see Adams make a disgusted sort of expression.

The officer nods. “Well, no matter what was said, a brawl isn’t the way to settle it. Save that energy for the football field. Boys, I think you’d all better leave.”

“Yes, sir,” Adams says, and immediately starts for the door. His lackeys follow behind him. Finn, however, steps back toward me.

“It looks like you two have shaken that young lady up enough for the afternoon,” the officer says, stopping him. “You have your own way home, miss?”

I nod silently.