Without Chance

Chapter Eight: Suspended

"I told you, I can't help," he protested, sounding hurt and defeated.

"You could have gone for help," I said, as I finally turned around. The halls were empty, the lights flickering absently. "Don't you ever go to class?"

"Only when I have to," he said with a small, half-hearted smile. I shook my head.

"Go to class, Chance. At least you still can."

"What do you mean?" His confused expression was almost as painful as his wounded one.

"I got suspended. I can't come back until Monday."

"Ryan, you have to come back!" he protested, a panicked look coming into his eyes.

"I can't. That's what suspension means," I told him bitterly. "Go to class, Chance. You'll be fine. I'm the one Noah's trying to kill, not you. You'll be fine." I realized I was trying to reassure myself as much as him. I shoved the feeling back down and turned away, heading for the doors.

"Ryan," Chance said behind me. I stopped again, but resolutely refused to face him. "Be careful, okay?"

I didn't respond, I just walked away.

My father had the car out front and waiting. I climbed in and buckled my seat belt, not saying anything. He was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke.

"What happened to you, Ryan?" he asked. I didn't respond. "You were always so bright, so happy, so quick to laugh and make jokes. You were always so friendly. Ever since your mom got sick, all of that has disappeared. It was bad enough back in Phoenix, but since we got here you've..." he looked over at me. "I'm worried, Ryan. There's something really not right with you lately."

"Not right with me?" I snapped. "There's something completely jacked up about this entire town! Haven't you seen it?"

"This town isn't the problem, Ryan," he argued. "Everyone can see it but you. You've gone from being a great, happy student with lots of friends to being this brooding, sullen kid who's not doing well in class, is damaging school property, attacking other students, and has only one friend who is..."

"You leave Chance out of this!" I said as threateningly as I could. "And that library incident was not my fault!"

"Oh, so just the attacking students part is?" he asked sharply.

"That psycho and his four brain-dead partners were about to beat up on a girl!" I yelled. "You're damned right I attacked him! All because she likes other girls? What the Hell is wrong with everyone?" My father looked at me, a little surprised, then his face went steely again.

"I can't trust you, Ryan. You said you didn't vandalize the library, but there were witnesses! Five different students came in to report it!"

"Let me guess, the same five who claimed I attacked them?" I retorted. He didn't respond. I knew I was right. "Awfully convenient Noah's backpack and Bible were on the table right behind the shelves that just about crushed us."

"Ryan, this is getting out of hand. You need to get yourself under control. I've made an appointment with a counselor at the hospital for you this weekend."

"Awesome, now you think I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy Ryan," he argued. "You're just upset. Maybe about your mother, maybe about something else," he glanced sidelong at me, "but whatever it is, you need to talk to someone about it. Someone trained to handle this kind of thing."

"Yeah, kid's having a hard time. Instead of listening to him, let's send him to the nuthouse. It's easier for everyone that way," I said bitterly. My sarcasm was not appreciated.