Freaks of Greenfield High

Freaks of Greenfield High (Chapter 11)

Tyler snorted. "Yeah. And while he was at it, he should have thanked Shawn's daddy, the mayor, for withdrawing his hefty yearly donation. Like that was ever gonna happen."

Matt sighed. "I want to set the record straight. That okay?"

"Maybe. Depends on your motives."

"You don't trust me?" Matt faked being stabbed through the heart. "Wow. That's harsh, dude."

Tyler just stared at him.

"Okay, okay. You got me. I have a motive. I want to take Shawn down. That's why I took the vid of you two beating each other up—was hoping to use it but it kinda backfired."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah. Sorry. But the dude needs one big-ass wake-up call, and I'm hoping to be the one to give it to him. You with me?"

Tyler chewed over Matt's words. Watching Shawn lose his top-jock spot held major appeal. Not even Shawn's influential father would be able to haul Shawn's ass out of that particular fire if Tyler went public with what he knew. But the same reason he'd remained silent and taken the rap in the first place still applied. It wasn't just about Shawn. There was Vanessa to consider, too. Shawn knew that. He'd relied on Tyler's instinct to protect Vanessa—leveraged it and used it to take down a rival.

Bottom line? Tyler still didn't want to get Vanessa into trouble. Even if she had morphed into a total bitch lately.

Matt stared intently at him, gauging his reactions. "It's Nessa, isn't it? You're protecting her. You've always been protecting her. Man, I didn't think you were that gone on her. Would never have taken up with her after she dumped you if I'd known."

Tyler believed him. They'd once been teammates, and if not close friends, then at least friends. He figured Matt was on the level and there was no hidden agenda.

"I'm not gone on Vanessa," he said. "Not anymore. I mean, I think she's pretty hot and everything. Or I used to. But not now. Not since—" He'd been about to say "Not since Jay" but Matt beat him to it.

"Yeah. That Jay chick's really something. Not my type, but I can sure appreciate what she's got to offer." He noticed the less-than-impressed expression on Tyler's face and warded himself with his hands. "Chill, dude. Sooo not interested, okay? Now, your sister— Don't take this the wrong way, but she's my type. The keeper-type. You know what I'm saying? Makes all the other girls seem like practice runs."

Tyler rolled the tension from his shoulders. "Yeah. I know what you're saying."

Matt sagged—slowly and with a great deal of caution—back into the chair. "Back to Nessa. I get you're protecting her. And I figure it's gotta be something real big, right? 'Cause, dude, lately she's owning her inner bitch and you still won't roll over on her. So why don't you spill and we'll figure a way to keep us both happy, huh? Besides, I figure I deserve to know what the frick her deal is."

"Yeah. Guess you're right." And God knew it'd be a huge relief to tell someone the truth after months of keeping it under wraps and having it eat away at him. "But before I spill my guts, you gotta promise you won't go off half-cocked."

Matt's brows knitted into a troubled frown. "That bad, huh?"

Tyler's stomach twisted into a knot. Bile scorched his throat and he swallowed convulsively. He'd thought all this was behind him—convinced himself he'd shucked it off, moved on and all that crap. But now the prospect of telling someone loomed, all the disgust and horror and panic he'd felt that night crashed in on him again.

"Yeah," he finally said. "That bad. So no going all vigilante on me. We'll both figure out what happens from here. Deal?"

"Deal."