What We Take Away

Chapter 31 | Zac

March 10th, 2006

"Move it."

I let hatred and disgust seep into my voice as I address Cass's boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend now, I hope.

I trail him to the Swan Hall parking lot, where he turns to face me. Beneath the moonlight, his face looks twisted and deranged.

He sneers.

"You must feel like a real hero right now, don't you?" he says viciously, pacing around the parking lot with his hands on his hips. "Rushing in to save the day. You must think so highly of yourself."

My blood is boiling and I want to hurt him. But like every other bully I've met, from Kevin Ugolini to Sampson Burke, this guy is not worth it.

"Stay the fuck away from Cass," I breathe. "And don't bother coming back."

My entire body sings with adrenaline, taut and ready for a fight. But I can't get distracted, not when I've left Cass alone by herself. I force myself to turn and march back towards the dorm building.

My foot hits the curb when I hear his voice.

"Does she know how you feel about her?"

I tense -- only for a brief moment, but it's enough that he notices. Aram laughs out loud, a dry and mirthless sound.

"She doesn't know, does she?" he crows gleefully.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Don't come back."

I walk deliberately up the concrete steps towards the side door of the building. Reaching out with my hand, I swipe my key card to unlock the door and pull it open.

"She'll never leave me!" Aram yells after me. "You'll see! She'll never--"

I let the door slam shut, instantly muting his voice.

My only thoughts are of Cass as I race up the stairs, two or three at a time, until I'm standing in front of her room. Some of our floor mates are gathered out in the hall, having heard the commotion from earlier.

"Is everything okay?"

"What happened?"

"Did you hear that yelling?"

"Oh my God, what's going on?"

I ignore them and push myself into her room. Relief floods my veins when I see Sabrina sitting with Cassie on her bed.

Thank God.

Sabrina turns and acknowledges me. Her face is etched with worry and tears, but she gives me a watery smile and and a thumbs up sign. I nod gratefully and slowly back out the room, shutting the door behind me.

Whispers and stares follow me down the hall as I trudge back to my room, each step I take heavier than the last. When I'm finally alone, I close the door wearily before sinking down on my bed.

All of my bravery from the night vanishes as I drop my face into my hands.

Was I too late?

It takes me a long time to stop shaking before I'm able to fall asleep.

---

The next morning, I reluctantly pick up a copy of The Crow Post from the Pelican newsstand.

Ralph Dillon's tired and weary expression is pictured on the front page with a sprawling headline ("Sports On The Line: The Dissolution of Dillon's Legacy And The Future of Football").