Watercolor (11 page)

“Did you see the other guy?” He joked and then groaned in pain.

I shushed him, holding my hand over his mouth. “Is it your ribs? Is it something worse?” He held me back as I reached for him.

“Hang on,” he whispered. “That guy’s fists were like… cinder blocks.”

Brad limped over and sat beside Julian against the car. His face was a bloody mess. Rachel was crying and had gone with one of the teachers for ice and towels. I was still trembling holding Julian’s hand.

“At least I look better than you,” Julian joked, then immediately clutched his side again.

“That gut wound was meant for me,” Brad said.

“I’m starting to rethink this friendship.” Julian leaned his head back against the car. “My ribs can’t take it anymore.”

“You boys sit tight,” Coach Wilson was frowning. “I called EMS. They should be here any second. We’ll be pressing charges, and we need you guys to give descriptions.”

Wade and Montage swaggered up clapping each other’s backs.

“I beat the shit out of that dude,” Wade said. “Did you recognize any of ‘em?”

“Nah, but they were from Crystal Shores,” Montage said. “I’d been waiting for something like this.”

Brad looked serious. “They just asked if I was Brad Brennan. I said yes, and they started wailing on me.”

Montage frowned, thinking. “It doesn’t make sense. Why go after you?”

“I don’t know, but you got some… ah—guts, Julian,” Blake said, glancing at Mrs. Womack, who had just come out to check on the group. I nodded at my former civics teacher.

“Three against one’s not a fair fight,” Julian replied.

“One of those guys against either of you’s not a fair fight.” Montage said. He glanced around making sure we were alone again, then his voice dropped. “I’m going to find out who they were and finish it.”

“Let me know if I can help,” Wade said in an equally low voice.

The guys clasped hands, but Julian exhaled, leaning his head back on the car. “I’ve got to sit that one out.”

Brad gripped his shoulder. “Thanks. Again.”

Julian waved him away. Flashing lights appeared around the corner, and in minutes the guys were being inspected by emergency medical technicians. Julian was diagnosed with three cracked ribs and wrapped in gauze and tape. The tech cleaned up his face and put a small bandage and an ice pack on his cheek. Brad’s wounds were primarily facial, but they didn’t think his nose was broken. Wade’s hands had to be wrapped, but he and Montage were otherwise uninjured. Brad’s attackers had fled once the big guys showed up and started throwing punches.

The tech dosed Julian with a heavy pain killer and instructed me to drive him home. He was conscious as we climbed into his car, but they warned us the medicine would kick in fast.

“You can just sleep at my house,” I said, gripping the wheel hard. “I’ll text your mom, but I’m not going to scare her. You can tell her what happened tomorrow.”

Julian’s eyes were closed, and I wasn’t sure he heard me until he spoke. “Huh? Oh, yeah.”

He was starting to doze, but we managed to get into my house, where Mom was still up watching TV. Julian staggered over and leaned against the bar.

“You’re early,” Mom said, getting up. “What’s going—oh! What happened?”

I held Julian’s arm as I explained. “These thugs jumped Brad in the parking lot, and Julian ran in to help…”

“What?” Mom’s face was horrified. “Were they arrested?”

My jaw clenched. “No. But the guys think it was a football player after Montage, Tamara’s little brother—”

“I don’t understand.” Mom shook her head. “Why is someone after Tamara’s little brother?”

Julian looked like he was about to fall over. I slipped under his arm and tried to help him walk, but he was too heavy. “A vendetta? Montage hurt him in a game? Only he says he didn’t. I don’t really understand what happened or if it was even connected, but they gave Julian painkillers. I thought he could sleep on the couch.”

“Why didn’t you take him home?” Mom exclaimed, taking Julian’s other arm. “The couch is so uncomfortable!”

“Because… then I’d have to leave him…” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I tried to stop, but I was sobbing. My shoulders shook, and Julian came around.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, pulling me into his uninjured side. “I’m good. I just need to… take a break.”

I fought to regain control. We were losing him fast. “Maybe Julian could sleep in my room, and I could take the couch?”

Mom nodded. “Sure. I’ll help. But hurry.”

The three of us made it up the stairs, and I ran ahead to turn back my bed. Julian was almost out before we managed to get his shoes off and secure him under the blankets.

“He’ll be fine,” Mom hugged me. “Just let him sleep.”

I inhaled a shaky breath, my eyes growing warm again. “It was so awful,” I whispered. “Those guys were twice the size of him, and they were just beating him…”

I shuddered at the memory, and she squeezed me again. “He’s pretty resilient. Remember last year?”

“I try not to,” I said recalling the car wreck that had left Julian unconscious and hospitalized. “I’m going to hang out in here and read or something. Just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay.” She let me go and went to the door. “Don’t stay up too late.”

I grabbed my sleep shirt and walked across the hall to change and wash my face. When I returned, Julian was sleeping deeply, and I closed the door. My parents’ light was out, so I slipped in behind him and put my arms around his waist. He stirred slightly before falling asleep again. The next time I opened my eyes it was daylight. Julian was still asleep, and for a moment, I simply held him. It felt good knowing he was here and he was safe. I listened to him breathe and let my body relax.

Then I remembered my parents. Quickly sliding out of the bed, I tiptoed down the stairs. Mom was in the kitchen making coffee, so I stopped creeping.

“I guess I fell asleep,” I said.

“You looked pretty cozy.” She gave me a look, but immediately softened. “I’d fuss, but I saw how gone he was when we put him to bed.”

“Whatever they gave him was really strong.” I picked up a mug and got some coffee. “He’s still sleeping.”

“Probably for the best,” Mom said with a nod. “Cracked ribs are painful.”

I nodded, sitting at the bar.

She leaned forward across from me. “That was a terrible thing. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” I said, sipping my warm drink. “And we were having such a good time. I only thought about Jack once when the photographer—”

“You thought about Jack?” Her face pulled into a frown.

I shook my head. “I don’t know why I said that. It was because we just talked about it…”

But it was too late. Mom’s eagle eye was on me. “Have you been thinking about Jack other times?”

“That’s not what I meant. I never think about Jack when I’m with Julian.” I let out a short laugh, wondering what was wrong with me. Clearly, I’d been around Summer too much. She was rubbing off on me.

Mom walked over and put her arm around my shoulders. “Break-ups are hard, and you’re so young. I’m really sorry, honey.”

Just then I heard a noise on the stairs and saw Julian making his way down gingerly. “I can’t tell which is worse. The ribs or the hangover,” he said.

“How did you sleep?” I went to him and held his arm, which he carefully lifted around my shoulders.

“I don’t remember much,” he said with a wince. “Were you with me?”

“Yeah. I fell asleep.”

He held out his free hand. “Mrs. Sanders, I swear…”

Mom laughed, shaking her head. “You were almost incoherent when we put you to bed last night. But don’t get any ideas.”

“The next time you take narcotics, we’re sleeping at your house,” I teased.

My mom gasped, “Anna!”

But I just laughed, going to the kitchen to get him a coffee.

“She’s completely out of control, Mrs. Sanders.” Julian shook his head as he sat at the bar.

“So, changing the subject,” Mom narrowed her eyes at me, “I mentioned this to Anna, would you be interested in being a featured artist at the association in Fairview?”

He reached across the bar, taking her hand. “I promised Anna I wouldn’t ask you out, but this might be love…”

Mom laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Just tell me what I need to do and when. It’ll probably be at least a month before I can start anything new now,” he breathed, getting off the stool again. “And thanks for putting me up. I’d better get home. I didn’t check in with Mom.”

“I texted her,” I said, hurrying over to help him. “Can you drive?”

“I think so,” he flinched again. “It only hurts when I move. But I’ll take it slow.”

We walked outside and stopped at the car. Julian leaned back against it and carefully pulled me to his chest. “Last night did
not
go the way I planned it.”

I softly hugged him back and lifted my face for a kiss, but his eyes were looking up and behind me.

“What?” I asked, looking over my shoulder. All I saw was the tall tree outside my window.

“Just thinking about what I can’t do now,” he said.

My heart sank as I looked back at his face. “How long?”

“Last year it seemed like forever,” he said, wrapping his arms over my shoulders. “A month?”

Then he laughed at my expression. “Don’t look so depressed. We’ll still see each other every day.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Different at night?” He shook his head, leaning up and opening the car door. “You’ve got it easy. I’m the one home alone.”

“Maybe I can come to you?”

His lips pressed together, and he shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Call me?”

He nodded and kissed me, and I was completely miserable. I hated thug football players with everything in me, and I hoped Montage and the guys found them and pounded them into the turf.

Chapter 11

The incident at the dance had gained notoriety by Monday, and Brad’s father was at school first thing demanding answers and increased security. The front office was bombarded with parent calls and members of the community were meeting in droves to discuss safety issues. Blake joined our group at lunch, and he, Wade, and Montage talked about an upcoming visit to our new friend’s old campus dance.

“You just stay back and let us handle it,” Wade said to Brad at lunch.

Brad had several bandages on his nose and face, and he kept flexing his hand. “I couldn’t help if I wanted to.”

“This is a bad idea,” Rachel said, holding Brad’s arm. Their public displays of affection had gone through the roof since Friday. “You should let the police handle it.”

The guys ignored her. “Think you’d recognize any of them if you saw ‘em again?” Montage asked.

Brad shook his head. “I don’t know. I was kind-of distracted at the time.”

Rachel took Brad’s hurt hand and started rubbing it. “I’d recognize them.”

“Too bad you won’t be with us,” Wade laughed, straddling the concrete bench. “How’s it hangin Picasso?”

“Painful,” Julian said not looking up. He was working on another sketch, although he couldn’t do any lifting until he healed. “Sucky, painful déjà vu.”

“I miss you sneaking in,” I said softly, bumping his leg with mine. He glanced at me with a smile. “Were you lonely? You could’ve called.”

He shook his head. “Mom was home all weekend. I think she was worried about me.”

I nodded, wondering if Will had spent the weekend on Hammond Island. I wondered if Julian’s dad knew what had happened to his youngest son.

“You in?” Montage asked Julian.

“Nah,” he said. “It hurts to move around too much.”

“We’ll get in some hits for you,” he said holding out his fist. “Honorary member.”

Julian tapped his fist back. The bell rang and we started for class. Julian walked slowly with me a few steps before we had to part. He was unusually quiet.

“Are you going to the doctor?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I can deal with this. Done it before.”

I nodded. “You okay?”

“Sure,” he said. “Just thinking about losing time. Maybe I’ll try painting again.”

“I think that would be amazing!” I caught his arm. “I’d love to watch, but I’ve got to get that story to the paper this afternoon. Talk later?”

“I’ll call you.”

I stepped forward to hug him. “I know it’s not smart, but I hope they get those guys,” I whispered in his ear.

He smiled and moved a curl from my face. “Take it easy.”

“You, too.”

By Tuesday, I was more than ready to visit Julian’s dad after school. I’d forgotten the letter in my small drawer with all the excitement, but I was going anyway. I had a few other pieces of information to share with him, and we could set up another time for me to deliver the last bit of evidence.