Battered Hearts 3: Crossing the line (9 page)

“Hey, Tabitha.” Jules walked into the bathroom with Serena Dennis, sounding bouncy and upbeat as usual. “What’re you doing here?”

Tabitha turned to the two girls, who were both pressed and perfect-looking in their karate outfits. Jules was exceedingly tan, which caused her light blue eyes to stand out more than ever and made her hair seem even blonder.

“I was just looking for Wyatt.”

“Ain’t gonna find him in here.” Serena giggled.

Tabitha flushed, feeling stupid, but Jules didn’t notice. She just smiled and offered, “He’s boxing.”

“Ah.” Tabitha smiled back, because that’d save her from wandering around and peeking in all the classes. Wyatt took so many, he could be in any one of them. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Jules had a look on her face, as if she knew something Tabitha didn’t. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

Serena giggled again, and this time Jules laughed with her.

Tabitha walked out of the bathroom feeling as if she wasn’t just left out of the joke but was somehow part of it. She’d given up trying to understand other girls. Scared of boys, uncomfortable around girls. Tabitha had more issues than Clay.

She knew where the boxing was, because she’d come to the rec center sometimes. It was cool in there, and it got her out of the house over the long summer months. Even if she couldn’t afford to take any of the classes, there were activities that were free on Tuesdays, and sometimes she just liked to watch Wyatt take his classes.

He was one of those people who was good at everything. In that respect, he was very much like his sister. He might not excel at school, but he did well enough, and once school was out and they let him loose on the football field or put him in a boxing ring, he was amazing.

Tabitha’s fingers itched to grab one of her notebooks just thinking about it. Sometimes she wrote stories when she was on the outs with the library. Brett liked to rip up her books. He knew it took her forever to find the money to pay the library back for them and re-earn the privilege of borrowing more.

So she wrote her own stories, but she always changed Wyatt’s name so no one would know she was writing about him. Tabitha learned a long time ago that her imagination was one of the few things that couldn’t be taken away from her. She liked stories with real heroes and over-the-top adventures, ones that she could get completely lost in. Wyatt Conner made good hero material.

She walked into the room, seeing that Wyatt was actually in the ring with Manny Hardan, who was thirteen and bigger than him. That didn’t seem to deter him. Wyatt bounced around him, red boxing gloves held up as he dodged each of Manny’s blows. She winced every time Manny took a swing, but Wyatt ducked and moved in a way that was almost like dancing.

Tabitha sat on one of the benches in the corner, willing to wait patiently until he was done with practice. Fighting didn’t bother her like it did some girls. She saw it all the time in her backyard or around the corner at the trailer park. Her uncles would get into fights. Her brother would get into fights. Last month, before he’d run off, Clay had gotten into it with both Brett and Vaughn, and he’d held his own.

Growing up where they did, fighting was just a way of life, but Tabitha liked watching this version of it much better, without the dirt or asphalt breaking their falls. Here there were rules.

“Dang it, Conner, does this look like a martial arts class?” The coach leaned over the ropes, his face flushed red as he glared at Wyatt. “If I catch you kicking again, you’re sitting on the bench in the corner with the girls for the rest of practice!”

She glanced around her to see if she’d missed some other girl. Six boys were hanging out and talking on the other side of the room, but the only person in the corner was her.

Wyatt looked toward her, and Tabitha could see him frown. Then Manny capitalized on his distraction and punched him hard enough that Tabitha flinched. Rather than go down, Wyatt responded by punching him back, making Manny’s head snap roughly to the side. Then he bounced back and kicked Manny in the stomach as if to make his point.

“Foul, Conner!” the coach yelled and pointed to where Tabitha was sitting. “You’re out for the rest of practice! Disqualified.”

Wyatt ducked under the rope as the coach called one of the other boys in to finish the round. He was shirtless and covered in sweat, but he didn’t seem to mind as he walked over to where Tabitha was sitting.

He fell down on the bench next to her and held out his gloves. “Untie ’em.”

She didn’t question his manners. He was mumbling through his mouth guard, and she knew he couldn’t say much. She just made quick work of untying his first glove. When she got it off, he pulled out his mouth guard that was covered in spit and blood.

Gross.

Tabitha went to work on his other glove rather than say anything.

“What’re you doing here?” Wyatt asked because he was always good at filling in the silence. “Did they change community days?”

She shook her head as she pulled off his other glove and set it down on the bench next to the first one. Then she looked up and studied him in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain.” Wyatt tossed his mouth guard on the bench. “I think I was winning till the coach got technical.”

Tabitha tried to bite her tongue, but she couldn’t help but point out, “You put that in your mouth.”

“What?” Wyatt frowned at her. “The mouth guard? So?”

“And you just put it on the bench.” Tabitha gave him a look when he didn’t seem to be getting what she was saying. “People sweat on that bench.”

He laughed as he started picking at the white tape wrapped tightly around his knuckles. “You’re weird, Tab.”

Tabitha couldn’t argue with that. She knew she didn’t fit in, so she just pointed out, “I don’t think it’s sanitary.”

“My dad washes ’em in the dishwasher. It’ll be fine.”

Double gross.

“Poor Jules.”

If she had to eat on dishes washed in the same machine as her brother’s dirty mouth guard, she’d pull a Clay and live on the streets.

“Poor Jules? Poor Me. I’m stuck living with her.” Wyatt snorted as he looked up and frowned. “You sunburned?”

Tabitha cupped her hot cheeks, feeling embarrassed. “Yes, a little.”

“Is your brother picking on you? Is that why you’ve been outside so much?”

Tabitha shook her head as she silently debated with herself about Clay. She often sugarcoated things. Wyatt knew Brett was an annoyance, but he didn’t know how cruel he could get. He knew Tabitha and Clay were poor, but he didn’t understand there were still nights when she didn’t eat. Telling Wyatt about Clay running away felt like a huge betrayal of trust. If only she had more friends, but Wyatt was the only other person she talked to.

“You know you can come hang out at the rec center,” Wyatt went on like he always did when Tabitha was searching for the right words. “Or you could hang out at my house after my dad gets off work. I know you hate my dad, but—”

“I don’t hate your dad,” Tabitha said defensively. “My family does.”

“Figures.” Wyatt looked away and huffed. “Only criminals hate my dad.”

That was true, so Tabitha didn’t argue with him. She just sat there silently and thought about Wyatt’s world in comparison to hers. To him, Clay would be a criminal. That was likely why he hated him so much. Even if he didn’t know the details, he could probably sense it. Clay stole things all the time. Food, clothes, one time he even stole a headband for Tabitha. She wore it because she didn’t have many pretty things.

“I have to go now.” Tabitha stood up, determined to look for Clay on her own. Asking Wyatt for help was a horrible idea. Heroes didn’t help the bad guys. They only helped people who lived in nice houses and had food to eat without having to steal it. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Oh, hey!” Wyatt reached out and grabbed her arm. “You don’t have to leave. I was being a jerk.”

“No, you weren’t.” She shook her head quickly, because she wasn’t mad at him. He was always honest, and she liked that about him. She pulled her arm out of his. “I just have something to do. Bye, Wyatt.”

She ran out the door before she could change her mind, because she really wanted to believe she wasn’t one of the bad guys, but the truth was she wasn’t so sure. Just like Clay, she often thought it was a matter of time. She knew stealing was wrong, but she sort of agreed with Clay—being hungry was worse.

She ran down the hallway, having the thought that maybe today was a good day to start being what she was meant to be. She really needed a hat. Her face burned so badly from too much sun. Or maybe some sunscreen they kept at the front of the store during the summer months. She knew because she spied them all the time, and she wanted it desperately. She loved the sun. It just didn’t love her.

Sunscreen would solve everything. The Dowers wouldn’t miss one little bottle.

She was so caught up in thought, she almost ran smack into someone at the end of the hallway. She skidded to a halt and shouted triumphantly when she saw who it was. “Clay!”

Without thinking, she jumped at him and wrapped both her arms around his neck. Clay stood there awkwardly, letting her hug him.

“You’re sunburned.” Clay was clearly looking away to cover up how uncomfortable he felt with Tabitha hanging on him, but he didn’t push her away, which was a minor miracle. He had been meaner than a grizzly bear the last time she’d seen him. He even offered helpfully, “I could steal ya some sunscreen.”

Tabitha laughed and hugged him tighter, seeing the peace offering for what it was.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Tabitha hit his shoulder when she pulled away. “Why didn’t you—”

Clay cut her off by coughing loudly. “Piglet.”

Tabitha turned around, seeing Wyatt standing there. “Oh.”

Bold as ever, still dressed in his boxing shorts with the white tape wrapped around both knuckles, Wyatt walked up to them. He eyed Clay’s stained clothes and long hair with a look of distaste. Clay
was
dirty, but Tabitha still stiffened in his defense.

“Ain’t you got somewhere to be, Conner?” Clay growled, his voice low with danger. “I know you ain’t got a mama, pig, but the sheriff’s always got someone round to make sure his piglets follow the rules.”

Tabitha gasped and turned to Clay in horror. She couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He didn’t even notice her shock. His eyes were narrowed menacingly, but then so were Wyatt’s.

“Better a mama who’s dead, than one who has been behind bars more times than you can count, not that that’s saying a whole lot far as you’re concerned. We all know school’s not your thing,” Wyatt retaliated without even flinching as he met Clay’s furious glare fearlessly. He leaned in, giving Clay an evil smile. “I’ve seen them drag her in, Powers. Most of the time, she’s so out of it she can’t even walk.”

“Fuck you, Conner!” Clay took a threatening step forward. “Don’t you talk ’bout my mama.”

“Why not?” Wyatt laughed. “Everyone does. The whole dang town knows she’s trash.”

Tabitha had backed away from both of them, sensing impending violence, and she wasn’t even surprised when Clay lashed out first. His fist connected with Wyatt’s jaw, making a responding crack that had Tabitha wanting to close her eyes, but she didn’t.

“Clay, no!” she shouted before she could stop herself when she saw Clay was going to hit him a second time. “Please don’t—”

Her words were cut off when Wyatt lashed back with stunning speed, dodging Clay’s second punch and then catching him in the side with a hard jab that made Clay gasp out loud in pain. Maybe it was the tape on his fists, maybe it was because Wyatt was better cared for and well fed, maybe it was just the black belt he’d earned at the beginning of the summer. Whatever the reason, Wyatt Conner was able to drag Clay Powers, the biggest kid in their grade, to the ground with very little problem. The horror of it trapped her voice in the back of her throat.

Tabitha flattened herself against the wall, watching with wide eyes as the only two friends she had in the entire world went after each other with a wild fury she’d seen too many times before.

A crowd of kids gathered around the fight, but Tabitha barely noticed them cheering on the violence with rabid enthusiasm. It felt like all the color fell out of her world to the sickening sound of fists against skin.

She’d never believed in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. They never came to her house. She’d always known they weren’t real, but she had unwaveringly believed in real-life heroes with every fiber of her being until the moment she saw Wyatt Conner slam Clay’s head against the cement hard enough to make a sickening thud.

All boys turned mean eventually.

Tabitha turned around and left before she could see who won.

It wasn’t until she’d started burning all her notebooks in the bin in the backyard that she snapped out of her shock enough to feel guilty about leaving Clay. It wasn’t his fault Tabitha had been naive enough to still believe in fairy tales. He would think she was stupid for believing Wyatt was a hero to begin with. If he’d known about her stories, he would have probably stopped talking to her.

She threw some sticks into the fire that was dancing up past the metal rim as the smoke curled toward the sky. She had more notebooks than she realized, and all her hard work burned impressively well. She wanted to watch them for a few more minutes; then she’d go look for Clay and say sorry for being a bad friend. He was tough. She’d seen him fight many times before, and she knew he’d be okay, but she still needed to find him. Maybe she’d try her hand at stealing and grab him something to eat from Maple’s.

“If Mama catches you playing with fire, she’ll tan your ass.”

Tabitha jumped when Brett came down the steps in the backyard. Then she quickly looked around the yard, making sure she hadn’t forgotten to throw one of the notebooks in the fire. She’d been hiding them for years. It’d be terrible for him to get ahold of one now and make fun of her on the day she knew they weren’t true. All those stories about one unique boy saving lost orphans, feeding the homeless cookies, or rescuing puppies out of abandoned mines, and it’d been a lie. He’d grown up mean just like the rest of them.