Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
"What will you give me in exchange for my cooperation?" Andrew asked.
"Because revenge isn't good enough?" Neil asked. "What would it take?"
Andrew didn't have to think about it. "Show me your scars."
It was not what Neil was expecting, which was probably why Andrew asked for it. Neil opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. Wymack and Abby had already seen them, and the Foxes knew they were there. He'd put Andrew's hand to his ruined skin back in November to earn Andrew's trust. Neil had promised Andrew the missing parts of his truth if they survived the year. He hadn't thought Andrew would settle for a visual.
"When?" he said at last.
"We are going to Columbia tomorrow," Andrew said. "Now walk away and tell Coach to mind his pay grade. I will not let him get away with this a second time."
Neil didn't understand, but he nodded and left. The Foxes waited until the door was shut and locked before resuming play. The next time Kevin managed a shot on goal, Andrew cleared it all the way down the court. Neil had the feeling the Foxes would regret his intervention soon enough. This was definitely safer, but now Dan and Kevin had to chase the ball every time Andrew deflected it.
Neil went back to Wymack's side and relayed Andrew's message. He expected Wymack to brush off Andrew's threat without batting an eye. He wasn't expecting Wymack's amused huff and dry, "Just promise me this isn't going to be a problem."
"What?" Neil asked.
"I can't tell if you're being obtuse to fuck with me or if you're really that dumb," Wymack said. When Neil just stared blankly at him, Wymack rubbed his temples as if warding off a headache. "I would pity you, but Andrew's right. I don't get paid enough to get involved in this. Figure it out yourself—on your own time. You're supposed to be studying UT right now."
Wymack plucked up his clipboard and started scribbling notes. Neil looked from him to the court.
"Goodbye," Wymack said.
Neil swallowed his questions and headed back to the locker room.
-
The upperclassmen went out to dinner Friday after practice, but they swung by the dorms first to change into fresh clothes. Andrew showed up at Neil's room almost as soon as Matt had left, and he brought a bag of clothes with him. Neil still didn't understand why the cousins insisted he wear something new every time they went to Columbia, but he was past the point where he'd question it. He carried the bag into his bedroom to change. When he turned to close the door Andrew was right behind him. Andrew said nothing but gestured to Neil's shirt.
Neil hesitated, then set the bag on Matt's bed and struggled out of his shirt. It was getting a little easier every day, but it hurt when he raised his arms too high and when he twisted he felt the pull at his stitches. He got his shirt over his head and to his elbows before Andrew got tired of watching him struggle and tugged the shirt loose. Andrew tossed it off to one side and didn't look to see where it landed. He was more interested in the scars and bruises covering Neil's front.
Andrew reached for the bandages on Neil's wrists, and Neil let him rip tape and gauze off. The scabs looked worse today than they had when he first landed in South Carolina. Abby was right; he needed to let his wounds air. Neil dragged his stare up from the ugly lines striped across his wrists to Andrew's face. Neil wasn't sure what he was looking for: a hint of Wednesday's violence or last semester's callous, cheerful dismissals. He got neither. Andrew looked a thousand years from all of this, detached and unconcerned.
On Neil's right shoulder was a burn scar, courtesy of getting smacked by a hot iron. Andrew put his left hand to it, fingertips lining up perfectly with the raised bumps the iron's holes had left behind. His right thumb found the puckered flesh from a bullet. Neil had slept in his bulletproof vest for almost a month after that close call, too scared to take it off. His mother had to bully him into shedding it long enough to wash up.
"Someone shot you," Andrew said.
"I told you someone was after me," Neil said.
"This," Andrew dug his fingers harder into the iron mark, "is not from a life on the run."
"My father gave me that. People came by asking questions about his work. I didn't say anything, but I didn't sit still enough, either. He hit me as soon as the door closed behind them. That's why I gave you 'Abram'," Neil said. "I don't want to give you my father's name because I don't want anyone to call me it ever again. I hated him."
Andrew was quiet a long time, then dropped his hand to the slashes across Neil's gut. "Renee said you refused our knives. A murder magnet like you shouldn't walk around unarmed."
"I'm not," Neil said. "I thought you were going to watch my back this year?" Andrew glanced up at him again, expression unreadable. He said nothing, so Neil pressed on with, "You're not actually a sociopath, are you?"
"I never said I was."
"You let them say it about you," Neil said. "You could have corrected them."
Andrew waved that off. "What people want to think of me is not my problem."
"Does Coach know?"
"Of course he does."
"Then your medicine...?" Neil asked. "Were those pills really anti-psychotics?"
"You ask a lot of questions," Andrew said, and left Neil alone to get dressed.
Neil found Andrew's lot in the hallway when he was done. Nicky gave a toothy grin of approval at how the new clothes fit. Aaron didn't so much as look at Neil. Kevin checked Neil's face for smudges in the make-up but said nothing. Andrew only waited long enough to hear the lock slide into place and started for the stairs. He had two cigarettes lit before he reached the second floor landing, and one he passed over his shoulder to Neil. Neil held onto it until they reached the car.