Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way.” There’s the sound of metal scraping over tile, like he pushed his chair back. “There’s more to being a leader than standing at the front of the group. It’s about being willing to do what it takes for the good of the team. Accepting responsibility. Personal sacrifice.”
“I know all about that.”
“I’m sure you do, but it’s one thing to know about it, and another thing to do what has to be done without complaint. That’s what you need to work on, Hayes. For yourself, and for the team. You understand?”
I creep a little closer to the office, but can’t see anything from where I’m standing. What do I expect to see? I don’t know. There’s something about the coach’s voice that’s rubbing me the wrong way. I feel prickly all over, uncomfortable. If that’s how I feel, how much worse must it be for Hayes?
“Yeah. I get it.” It’s clear Hayes is ready for this conversation to be over. I don’t blame him. No wonder he doesn’t like having to play nice with this guy. I wouldn’t want to, not if he talked to me that way.
I can’t help it. I need to know what’s going on in there. If I go to the bathroom, I’ll be able to see from the door, so I cut diagonally across the hall and push my hand against the swinging door like I’m about to go inside.
But before I do, I cast a casual glance over my shoulder—or what I hope looks like one.
Coach Greg doesn’t notice me, because he’s too busy kneeling in front of Hayes, who’s wearing nothing but a Speedo. “I’m glad you took my advice,” the coach murmurs, placing a hand on Hayes’s hip.
What the hell am I looking at? My heart stops beating, and I forget to breathe as the ugly scene plays in front of me. What are they doing? What’s this man doing to him?
Suddenly, Hayes’s head snaps around in time to find me standing there, gaping at him.
And there’s no misinterpreting the rage burning in his blue eyes.
21
“I guess I was worried about nothing. You were right.”
“Sure.”
“But it probably would have been different last week, like the day after. Right?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe I should suck dick in public next time and really see how long it takes for people to forget something.”
Salem’s words finally filter through my brain fog, and I turn away from the window I’ve been staring out of since we left the movie theater parking lot. “What?”
“There you are.” She laughs lightly as she turns onto my street. “You haven’t been paying attention to anything I’ve said.”
“Sorry. I’m distracted.” I don’t remember much about the movie. I was too busy worrying whether I should say something to Mr. Ambrose about what I saw.
“Obviously. What’s up? Did something happen back at school? You got really weird.”
She has no idea what happened, or how shaky I feel now. Having to sit through practice while the girls flirted with their guys and Coach Greg shouted instructions and encouragement to the team. It was obvious he didn’t like us being there. I understand why. How is he supposed to abuse his swimmers with witnesses hanging around?
That has to be what I saw. I’m not imagining things. He was flat out on his knees with Hayes’s junk practically in his face. There really aren’t too many ways to interpret that. What other reason would there be?
“What’s up with you?” Salem asks before pulling into the driveway. The house looks inviting and should be a haven, but I dread stepping foot inside.
“No, it’s okay. I’m just...” It’s so close to coming out of my mouth, all the ugliness, all my questions and fears. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube though. Once it’s out, I can’t take it back. What if I’m wrong?
“Hey. You know the whole friend thing goes both ways, right? I know I’ve been a lot lately, but if you need help...”
“It’s not me. I mean, I’m not sure anybody needs help. But I think they might.”
“What’s up?”
“If you thought something bad was happening, like somebody was getting hurt maybe, but you weren’t sure, would you say something? Like to your parents or whatever?”
“I don’t know.” Salem folds her arms. “It depends on what’s happening. What do you think is going on? Who’s being hurt?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not a hundred percent sure. If I’m wrong, or if I don’t have enough proof, I could end up ruining somebody’s life.”
“What if you don’t say anything?”
“Then I’d feel terrible if I’m right and I never spoke up. Like if I let this bad thing keep happening because I was too afraid to talk about it.”
She makes a thoughtful noise. “What if it’s not up to you? What if whoever this is happening to needs to be the one to speak up?”