For the Rush (Playing for Keeps #3) (12 page)

Holden

When the shot rang out, my first thought was about my mom. For much of my life it had been just the two of us, and I felt like she needed me. But now she had James, so at least I knew she’d be taken care of if anything happened to me. Still, she’d be devastated, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to survive. No matter what happened, I sure as hell was getting out of this school alive, and I was making sure Chloe did as well.

Students were going bat-shit crazy, everyone heading in opposite directions, running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Some kids hid under the tables and some seemed frozen in place as if they’d been zapped into blocks of ice. I always wondered how I’d react in a situation like this. Would I cower like a loser or would I take action? Now I knew. I literally felt numb to fear. All I felt was determination. I would treat this like a football game. And victory would be mine.

But when I realized it was Ryan who’d been shot, some of my courage wavered. How would I win this without my wingman? When I saw all that blood, I panicked. I couldn’t lose Ryan now. Not now. Not after everything we’d been through. I knew I shouldn’t have left Chloe, but in that moment I knew I had to get to Ryan. If there was any chance he could live, I had to take it. So I hurried over to him. However, the minute I dropped next to him I knew he was gone. He was too still. There was too much blood. That didn’t stop me from trying though. I shook him, I cried out his name. And I willed him to open his damn eyes.

“Say something!” I goaded him. But no sound came out of his mouth. And when I touched his neck, I didn’t feel a pulse. Stunned, the walls closed in around me and I had to fight to keep my fear in check. It didn’t seem real. How could this truly be happening? Who did this?

God, I’d been so focused on Ryan I hadn’t even looked for whoever shot him. Sawyer stood beside me, shaking, blood peppering his skin and clothes. He was white as a sheet.

“Sawyer, what the hell happened?”

“I-i-it was Preston, man. He just came in here, put the gun to Ryan’s head and…” Sawyer swallowed hard, his neck swelling with the effort. His whole body trembled. “He pulled the trigger. It all happened so fast. I called 911, but…” His gaze flickered to Ryan, unmoving. “I-I think it’s too late, man.”

My stomach tightened. It was Preston? I thought about the way he looked at Chloe, like she belonged to him. It had always bothered me, but I thought it was jealousy rearing its ugly head. However, deep down I knew that wasn’t it. Chloe wasn’t interested in him, that much was clear. But he wasn’t right in the head. And if he thought he had a shot with her, then my relationship with her would most likely set him off.

A hush fell over the room, fear thick in the air. Glancing around, I spotted Chloe and heaved a sigh of relief. She was all right. But before I could relax I noticed what I missed at first. She was talking to Preston. He stood facing her, pointing a gun in her direction. I prayed that a SWAT team member would walk in the door any minute and tackle the son of a bitch. Where was the police anyway?

Sometimes our principal made the rounds during lunch, but I hadn’t seen him today. And the lunch ladies looked like they’d already crapped their pants. No way would they be any help. We were alone in here. Alone and vulnerable.

That’s when it hit me.

I wasn’t alone. There were hundreds of students in here, and only one shooter. Not only that, but Preston wasn’t a big kid. He was small, scrawny even. So then why was Chloe the only person trying to do something? Everyone else was cowering or hiding under a table. And why the hell was Chloe talking to him? Cleary the guy was a nutjob. There was no way he’d listen to reason at this point. Then again, that was how Chloe was. She saw the good in people, and she always wanted to help. I just worried that this time it would get her killed.

I stood, blood covering my palms. Before I could reach Chloe another guy rushed Preston, clearly having the same idea as me. Preston swung his arm in the guy’s direction. It all happened so fast, it was shocking. A bang went off and the guy slumped to the floor, blood spraying the area around him. My body went rigid. Shrieks of horror filled the room.

I couldn’t stop staring at the boy lying on the ground, unmoving. Hot and cold flashes ripped up and down my spine. It felt unreal, like a nightmare. No way was this really happening. It was too awful. The only person in the room who seemed unfazed was Preston. When he swept his arm through the room, students gasped.

“Everyone stay away!” He yelled. “Don’t think I won’t shoot every last one of you. Nobody here is my friend. Look at all of you cowering and scared. Whimpering and praying I won’t take your life. You want to know how many times I was scared? How many times you made my life a living hell? Well, now it’s your turn!”

I swallowed hard when his aim returned to Chloe. Why was he intent on her? She was speaking softly and I couldn’t hear what she said, but I knew she was still trying to talk him down. And I knew she wouldn’t be successful. Dude was out of his freaking mind.

My body buzzed, heating up. After seeing him shoot that boy without any hesitation, I was certain he’d shoot Chloe. And I couldn’t let that happen. I had to get that gun away from him. Sure I may have been stronger than him, but that wouldn’t stop a bullet from tearing through me. I wasn’t made of steel. But I sure as hell wished I was when I went running toward Chloe

“You chose your side, Chloe.” Preston’s tone was chilling, and a shudder ran through me.

When I saw Preston’s finger pressing down on the trigger, I knew I couldn’t waste another minute. Treating him like a football player, I lunged forward and tackled him to the ground.  Pain shot through my arm, sharp and instant when I landed. Shit. I was sure I’d broken my arm. But at least Chloe was still alive.

With the pain being so severe in my arm I couldn’t hold Preston down, and he untangled himself from my grasp. Reaching up, I cradled my arm to my side, hoping to alleviate some of the sting. A shadow cast over me as Preston stood, aiming the gun in my direction.

“No!” Chloe yelled, and I cursed under my breath. She needed to stay back. Hell, she needed to run away, get to safety.

“Run, Chloe!” I demanded. “Get the hell out of here.”

I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t leave. That chick was so damn stubborn.

In the distance I heard sirens, and Preston’s body stiffened. His eyes widened. Lowering the gun, he whirled around and took off running toward the cafeteria doors. When he was out of sight, I heaved a sigh of relief.

Chloe dropped to her knees beside me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, wincing through the pain. I flinched upon hearing another gunshot coming from outside of the cafeteria. Fear snaking around my heart, I reached for Chloe with my good arm and pulled her close.

Chloe

Numb. That’s what I was.

In shock. That’s what they said.

But it was more than that. I couldn’t feel anything. It’s like I had turned into a block of ice, an intangible object. The girl that had chatted with her friends at lunch and had held hands with Holden while we walked the halls seemed like a completely different person. It was like I was having an out- of-body experience. Like I was a shell of my former self.

The only thing I could think about was blood and death.

When I closed my eyes, all I saw was Ryan slumped over the table, covered in thick, red, sticky blood. And then I saw Preston lifting the gun toward me. Shaking my head, I willed away all the memories. Even though I knew it was a losing battle. There was no way I’d ever be able to erase the images.

When my parents first saw me after the shooting, they gushed about how grateful they were that I was alive. But it was weird because I didn’t feel alive. I felt dead inside. Even as I sat in a chair next to Holden’s hospital bed, our fingers knotted, I still felt that way.

Numb.

Broken.

Dead.

“Hey.” Holden squeezed my hand. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

This made me feel even worse. I should be comforting him. Not the other way around. He’d lost his best friend today. Not to mention the fact that he’d been injured. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe this happened.”

“I know.” Holden’s eyes darkened. It was the first time I’d seen him look sad since I got here. When I first arrived, his mom was hovering. Super weird way to meet her for the first time. If only it had been under different circumstances. But I could tell that he was putting on a brave face for her. He kept smiling and assuring her that all was well. He seemed to be good at that. At comforting others.

And I wanted to do that for him. “How are you feeling? Do you need me to get you anything?” I glanced at the doorway that his mom had exited a few minutes ago to talk to his doctor. I prayed it would be good news. His arm was clearly broken, but he’d had x-rays to be sure it wasn’t more serious than just a simple break. I hoped with everything inside of me that he’d be able to play football again.

“Having you here is all I need.” He drew a circle in my palm with his thumb. Lifting his head, his gaze slid over my shoulder, landing on the window. A wistful expression passed over his face. “I’ve never been here as a patient, but I’ve visited Ryan here multiple times. He was always the one getting injured, not me.”

Nausea rolled over me. “Oh, Holden. I wish I could say something to make this better, but I don’t know what.”

“I don’t expect you to say anything. I was just talking, I guess.”

I knew then how I could make him feel better. “He was the risk taker out of the two of you, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Holden grinned, his eyes glassy as if lost in his thoughts. “He was always doing crazy shit. Making bike ramps and jumping off them, leaping from tire swings into the lake, trying to do flips on his skateboard.  I wasn’t like that. Football is as risky as it gets for me.” His face grew serious, and he chomped down on his lower lip. “And that was partly because I knew Ryan would always have my back, the way he did at the last game.”

I nodded, remembering. It was the closest I’d come to actually liking Ryan, and it made shame rise in me again. Funny how when someone died it was easy to forget the bad about them. I had sort of hated Ryan for most of the time I’d known him. Yet now that he was gone, I felt oddly sympathetic toward him. But I knew that it wasn’t just because he died. It was because he meant something to Holden. I think my sadness had more to do with my feelings for Holden than my feelings for Ryan.

“He was larger than life, you know?” There was a catch in Holden’s voice. “It doesn’t seem real that he’s gone.” His eyes shone, and it broke my heart.

I swallowed hard, keeping my emotions in check. It wasn’t time to lose my cool. It was time to stay strong for Holden’s sake. Scooting forward, I put my hand on Holden’s good shoulder. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

His head lowered to my hand, and a tear slid down his cheek. I slipped my hand behind his neck and drew him closer. His shoulders shook slightly as I held him. My fingers lightly touched his hair, and I dropped my head to his. We stayed like that for several minutes. The only sound in the room was Holden’s sniffles and deep breaths. I knew he wasn’t the type of guy to show emotion like this, and I was grateful that he felt comfortable enough with me to release it. When he pulled back from me, he frantically wiped at his face with his hands. He forced a smile, but his red, swollen eyes were a reminder of the pain he felt.

“I know Ryan brought this on himself, but it doesn’t make it any easier,” Holden said, and his words were like a punch to my gut.

It all seemed like a senseless tragedy up until now. He was right. Ryan tormented Preston. This wasn’t a random shooting. It was targeted. And most likely premeditated.

I thought of Preston’s words when we spoke at the game on Friday. He said that I’d chosen my side. And he said it again today as he pointed the gun at me. Was his plan to shoot me all along? A chill skittered up my spine.
Oh, god, this really was all my fault.
My gaze landed on Holden’s arm, and my heart pinched. Breathing deeply, I stared out into the hallway.

“I wonder why it’s taking your mom so long.” If it was good news wouldn’t she be racing back here to tell us? “Did the doctor give you any indication about how bad it is?”

He shook his head.

“I wish you hadn’t tackled him. I’ll never forgive myself if you can’t play football again.”

“Don’t say that. Your life is worth more than my arm, Chloe.”

He was so sweet, and that should make me happy but for some reason it made me feel worse. “But it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not. I chose to save you. This was my doing. Not yours.”

I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “No. You don’t get it.” My voice shook, guilt choking me. “This entire thing is my fault. If it wasn’t for me none of this would’ve happened at all. Ryan and that other kid would be alive, and you wouldn’t be injured.” I still didn’t know anything about the kid who had jumped in to save us, but I felt sick every time I thought about him and the way Preston shot him without giving it any thought. Agitated, I stood and started pacing. I felt restless, pent-up energy threatening to explode. By the time the police found Preston, he was dead. The shot we’d heard outside of the cafeteria was him shooting himself in the head. Closing my eyes, I felt sick at the sheer senselessness of it all. And I wished once again that I’d been able to help him.

“What are you talking about?” Holden sat up a little, readjusting his position.

“I promised Preston that I would help him.”

“You did help him. I saw how kind you were to him. You were his friend. No one else at the school can say that.”

“Exactly. I was his friend.” The heaviness of the day fell on me, and I almost buckled under the weight of it. “But I let him down. I didn’t stop the bullying. In fact, when I started seeing you, I practically ignored him.”

“Chloe, trust me. None of this is your fault.”

I peered at Holden. At his rich, dark eyes and brown tousled hair. My eyes rested on the hospital bed he lie in, on his broken arm. I dropped my head in my hands, wishing I could scream. Wishing this was all a nightmare that I would wake from any minute, but knowing that it wasn’t. This was reality. As awful as it was, I knew that was true.

“I have to go,” I mumbled, feeling lightheaded.

“Chloe, wait,” Holden called after me as I started for the doorway.

“I’m really sorry about everything, Holden.” With blurred vision, I hurried down the hallway. I weaved in and out of visitors, nurses, and doctors until finally I made my way outside. Not until I was in my car did I allow the rest of the tears to fall. Then I sank into my seat and sobbed until my throat was raw, until tears painted my cheeks and rolled down my chest.

I cried for Ryan and Holden.

I cried for the end of innocence. For the end of life as I knew it.

And then I cried for Preston, begging him to forgive me for letting him down.

Later that evening, I received a text from Holden. The doctor had told him that he’d been lucky. The break would heal in time. He’d be out this season, but most likely would be able to play next year. I breathed out a sigh of relief upon reading that, and texted him back a smiley face. After sending it, I stared down at the emoticon, wishing I could take it back. It seemed to taunt me with its large grin, and it made me feel like a liar. I wasn’t smiling like that. Nothing about me felt happy. But I didn’t know what else to say to Holden. I was glad for his good news. But did I feel smiley? Not even a little bit.

When he followed that text with another one, I shut off my phone and crawled into bed. It wasn’t cold inside my house, but for some reason I couldn’t get warm. Pulling the covers up over my head, I cocooned myself inside. Jasmine and Gianna had been calling and texting earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond to anyone. I knew I’d never be able to fall asleep, but I longed for it. Longed to lose myself in sweet dreams. To drift into nothingness.

I wondered if that was what Preston wanted. If he desired the same thing. Was that what drove him to do what he did? And more importantly, did he find the peace he desperately wanted? I hoped he had.

“Chloe?” Mom’s muffled voice came from outside my bedroom door.

“Yeah?” I called from under the covers.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I responded, because I knew she wouldn’t go away even if I asked her to.

I heard the click of the door as it opened, the shuffling of her feet on the carpet. My bed sloped when she sat on it. “Honey, you okay?”

“What do you think?”

When her hand rested on my legs from outside the comforter, I was sorry for my rude remark. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head even though I wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell what I was doing. The covers lifted from my face, my mom’s face coming into view. The genuineness of her expression and the love in her eyes broke me. It was like when I was a kid and I scrambled into her bed after having a nightmare. Back then I thought there was nothing my mom couldn’t fix. And when I got older and kids were mean to me at school, all seemed right with the world when I came home to have an afternoon snack with Mom. She was the only one who could console me the first time I’d had my heart broken by a boy.

And, in this moment, I needed her.

“Mom.” I sat up, shoving off my covers. Then I reached out my arms.

“Oh, sweetie.” Without hesitation she scooted forward and wrapped her arms around me. I slumped against her, pressing my face into her chest. As I cried, she stroked my hair and spoke soothing words. Tears streamed down my face, soaking her shirt and the ends of her hair. But I couldn’t stop.

When I was around ten years old my cat Otis died. I was devastated when Mom told me. Yet, I attempted to stay strong and not cry. But Mom encouraged me to cry. To release my emotions. She told me it was healthy, my body’s natural way of dealing with pain and loss.

So that’s what I did today too. I allowed myself to grieve. To feel loss. To feel sadness. To feel pain.